Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls Are level now with men; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.

No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.

At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.

Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

It is not night when I do see your face.