He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.

The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.

Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls Are level now with men; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.

Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.

Death lies on her like an untimely frost.