Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.

And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.

When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.

Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.

And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

. . . it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself it is needful that you frame the season of your own harvest.

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.