Men should be what they seem; or those that be not, would they might seem none!
‘Tis too much proved, that with devotion’s visage and pious action we do sugar o’er the devil himself.
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
All that glisters is not gold.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
What are these so withered, and so wild in their attire, that look not like th’ inhabitants o’ th’ earth, and yet are on’t?
Though she be but little, she is fierce.
There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.
There’s many a man hath more hair than wit.
The painting is almost the natural man: For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature, he is but outside; these pencill’d figures are even such as they give out.
The apparel oft proclaims the man.
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
