My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.

Every fair from fair sometime declines

If the masses can love without knowing why, they also hate without much foundation.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Life is as tedious as twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.

Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse.

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.