The king hath note of all that they intend, by interception which they dream not of.
William ShakespeareHow much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
William ShakespeareTrue, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
William Shakespeare