Speak Low, If You Speak Love.

Is There No Pity Sitting In The Clouds That Sees Into The Bottom Of My Grief? O Sweet My Mother, Cast Me Not Away! Delay This Marriage For A Month, A Week, Or If You Do Not, Make The Bridal Bed In That Dim Monument Where Tybalt Lies.

Life Is As Tedious As Twice-told Tale, Vexing The Dull Ear Of A Drowsy Man.

Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear.

Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones.

I Can Get No Remedy Against This Consumption Of The Purse: Borrowing Only Lingers And Lingers It Out, But The Disease Is Incurable.