Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day.

I cannot do it without comp[u]ters.

Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes; then little strength rings out the doleful knell.

Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.

By-and-by is easily said.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.

Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.