They Are Hare-brain'd Slaves.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

And What’s He Then That Says I Play The Villain?

Methought I Was Enamour'd Of An Ass.

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!

The World Is Not Thy Friend, Nor The World's Law. - Romeo