What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

We must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.

This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?

When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

Things may serve long, but not serve ever.