A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.

There's villainous news abroad.

To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.

A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.

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