Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.
Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you.
Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!
Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.
Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?