Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Every true man's apparel fits your thief.
Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.
Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.