The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.
O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.