Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?
Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.