Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo?

Tis Beauty Truly Blent, Whose Red And White Nature's Own Sweet And Cunning Hand Laid On.

Romeo There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murders In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell. I Sell Thee Poison; Thou Hast Sold Me None. Farewell: Buy Food, And Get Thyself In Flesh. Come, Cordial And Not Poison, Go With Me To Juliet's Grave; For There Must I Use Thee.

O That A Lady, Of One Man Refused, Should Of Another Therefore Be Abused!

And Nothing Is, But What Is Not.

Fight To The Last Gasp.