Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.

To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is montegue? tis nor hand nor foot nor any other part belonging to a man What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, So Romeo would were he not Romeo called retain such dear perfection to which he owes without that title, Romeo, Doth thy name! And for that name which is no part of thee, take all thyself.