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.
Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.