the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long.
Fight valiantly to-day; and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer.
O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.