Is not the truth the truth?
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.
A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.
Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!