Ay Me! For Aught That Ever I

Therefore The Moon, The Governess Of Floods, Pale In Her Anger Washes All The Air, That Rheumatic Diseases Do Abound; And Through This Distemperature We See The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

Be Still Prepared For Death: And Death Or Life Shall Thereby Be The Sweeter.

Benvolio- "by My Head, Here Come The Capulets." Mercutio- "by My Heel, I Care Not.

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.