And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.

Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.

Be advised; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, In seeming to augment it wastes it?

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves.

Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.