Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance: they are but beggars who can count their worth.
No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, my substance is not here;
Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues;Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows
Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. A man I am, crossed with adversity; My riches are these poor habiliments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have.