Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

There's Little Of The Melancholy Element In Her, My Lord: She Is Never Sad But When She Sleeps; And Not Ever Sad Then; For I Have Heard My Daughter Say, She Hath Often Dreamt Of Unhappiness, And Waked Herself With Laughing.

This Cold Night Will Turn Us All To Fools And Madmen.

Ay, Is It Not A Language I Speak?

So Foul And Fair A Day I Have Not Seen.

Benvolio- "by My Head, Here Come The Capulets." Mercutio- "by My Heel, I Care Not.