The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.

O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.

That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say - I love you

Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but ay, And that bare vowel ay shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. I am not I,if there be such an ay, Or those eyes shut,that make thee answer ay: If he be slain say ay,or if not,no: Brief sounds,determine of my weal or woe.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess