Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.

Having nothing, nothing can he lose.

The prince of darkness is a gentleman!

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, When not to be, receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

When he is best, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.

The fear's as bad as falling.