Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.

I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him.

To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.

Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?

And simple truth miscalled simplicity

Man and wife, being two, are one in love.

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.