Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.
Be great in act, as you have been in thought.
No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.
Refrain to-night; And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence, the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either master the devil or throw him out With wondrous potency.
For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.