Dancing Young Men From High Windows

You Are Invited to a Lifestyle of Friendship

Twelfth Night


I left no ring with her. What means this lady?

Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her.

She made good view of me; indeed, so much

That, as methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,

For she did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me sure; the cunning of her passion

Invites me in this churlish messenger.

None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.

I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,

Poor lady, she were better love a dream.

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness

Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

How easy is it for the proper false

In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!





This was your husband. Look you now what follows.

Here is your husband, like a mildewed ear

Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?

Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,

And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?

You cannot call it love, for at your age

The heydey in the blood is tame, it’s humble,

And waits upon the judgment, and what judgment

Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have,

Else could you not have motion, but sure that sense

Is apoplexed, for madness would not err,

Nor sense to ecstasy was ne’er so thralled

But it reserved some quantity of choice

To serve in such a difference. What devil was’t

That thus hath cozened you at hoodman-blind?

Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,

Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,

Or but a sickly part of one true sense

Could not so mope.


As You Like It


‘Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her,

And out of you she sees herself more proper

Than any of her lineaments can see her.


Julius Caesar


No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself

But by reflection, by some other things.


‘Tis just;

And it is very much lamented Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard

Where many of the best respect in Rome–

Except immortal Caesar–speaking of Brutus,

And groaning underneath this age’s yoke,

Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.


Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?


Therefor good Brutus, be prepared to hear.

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I , your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

I.ii. 54-72

King Henry V


If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook.