Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grieved heart.
Hath from the number of his banished years
Plucked four away. (1.3.9)
O, how that name befits my composition!
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old. (2.1.4)
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so. (2.2.2)