There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
Glendower: I can call the spirits from the vasty deep. Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man; But will they come, when you do call for them?
The old folk, time's doting chronicles.
I'll privily away; I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes; Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.