Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain.

The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief.

Good Night, Good Night! Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow, That I Shall Say Good Night Till It Be Morrow.

The Seeming Truth Which Cunning Times Put On To Entrap The Wisest.

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

Gloucester: I Do Not Know That Englishman Alive With Whom My Soul Is Any Jot At Odds, More Than The Infant That Is Born To-night: I Thank My God For My Humility.