Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
More fools know Jack Fool than Jack Fool knows.
A good heart 'is worth gold.
Romeo: Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.