The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.
for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.
Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends.