Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down?
But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise
The one I love is the son of the one I hate! -Juliet p. 75
The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.
You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave.
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.