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.

I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table." Macbeth

Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.

As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.

I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.

Our jovial star reigned at his birth.

God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!