You Are Yoked With A Lamb, That

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.

Let The Sap Of Reason Quench The Fire Of Passion.

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.

I Swear Again, I Would Not Be A Queen For All The World.

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More; Or Close The Wall With Our English Dead.