But most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men.

The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.

Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.

Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight. Mercutio: And so did I. Romeo: Well, what was yours? Mercutio: That dreamers often lie. Romeo: In bed asleep while they do dream things true.

And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.

Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!