It is the mind that makes the body rich; and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit.
That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
Passion makes the will lord of the reason.
Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.