My Heart Is Turned To Stone; I

A Man Should Be What He Seems.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

But Most It Is Presumption In Us When The Help Of Heaven We Count The Act Of Men.

A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

I Do Not Seek To Quench Your Love's Hot Fire, But Qualify The Fire's Extreme Rage, Lest It Should Burn Above The Bounds Of Reason.