O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
But whate'er I am, nor I nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased 'til he be eased With being nothing.
A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority.
'Tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.