You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame
And to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more.
Words to deeds cold breath gives.
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.