Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.

Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.

My stars shine darkly over me

I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.

There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old.

Two households, both alike in dignity In fair Verona, where we lay our scene From ancient grudge break to new mutiny Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife.