For what I will, I will, and there an end.

ROMEO to BALTHASAR But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form

The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.

They have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.

The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.