My Age Is As A Lusty Winter,

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

Benvolio: What Sadness Lengthens Romeo's Hours? Romeo: Not Having That, Which, Having, Makes Them Short.

He's Truly Valiant That Can Wisely Suffer The Worst That Man Can Breathe, And Make His Wrongs His Outsides, To Wear Them Like His Raiment, Carelessly, And Ne'er Prefer His Injuries To His Heart, To Bring It Into Danger.

I Have Ventured, Like Little Wanton Boys That Swim On Bladders, This Many Summers In A Sea Of Glory, But Far Beyond My Depth. My High-blown Pride At Length Broke Under Me, And Now Has Left Me, Weary And Old With Service, To The Mercy Of A Rude Stream That Must For Ever Hide Me.

Come, Gentlemen, I Hope We Shall Drink Down All Unkindness.