A Fool's Bolt Is Soon Shot.

All Is Well Ended If This Suit Be Won. That You Express Content; Which We Will Pay, With Strife To Please You, Day Exceeding Day.

And Thence From Athens Turn Away Our Eyes To Seek New Friends And Stranger Companies.

I Do The Wrong, And First Begin To Brawl. The Secret Mischiefs That I Set Abroach I Lay Unto The Grievous Charge Of Others.

O, But They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony: Where Words Are Scarce, They Are Seldom Spent In Vain: For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain. He, That No More Must Say, Is Listened More Than They Whom Youth And Ease Have Taught To Gloze; More Are Men's Ends Marked, Than Their Lives Before: The Setting Sun, And Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last; Writ In Rememberance More Than Things Long Past

Romeo: Courage, Man; The Hurt Cannot Be Much. Mercutio: No, 'tis Not So Deep As A Well, Nor So Wide As A Church-door; But 'tis Enough, 'twill Serve. Ask For Me Tomorrow, And You Shall Find Me A Grave Man.