There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not.
by William Shakespeare
TELL me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy's knell:
I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.