Tis Mad Idolatry To Make The Service

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

No, Cassius; For The Eye Sees Not Itself, But By Reflection, By Some Other Things.

So Many Horrid Ghosts.

Extreme Fear Can Neither Fight Nor Fly.