Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses.

How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

But yet I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live.

Good reasons must of force give place to better.

Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.