Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers.

Truth is truth to the end of reckoning.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were!

Hang those that talk of fear.

And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.

wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.