And often did beguile her of her tears,

When I did speak of some distressful stroke

That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;

She swore, in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange.

'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful;

She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd

That Heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:

She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,

And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act i. Sc. 3.

Light seeking light doth light of light beguile.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Love's Labour's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

I am not merry; but I do beguile

The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men

May read strange matters. To beguile the time,

Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,

Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,

But be the serpent under 't.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 5.