This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, to love that well which thou must leave ere long
Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
But most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men.
Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
Is this government of Britain's Isle, and this the royalty of Albion's King?