O' What May Man Within

Rightly To Be Great Is Not To Stir Without Great Argument, But Greatly To Find Quarrel In A Straw When Honour's At The Stake.

O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? Deny Thy Father And Refuse Thy Name; Or, If Thou Wilt Not, Be But Sworn My Love... 'tis But Thy Name That Is My Enemy; What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

There Is A Willow Grows Aslant A Brook, That Shows His Hoar Leaves In The Glassy Stream; There With Fantastic Garlands Did She Come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, And Long Purples That Liberal Shepherds Give A Grosser Name, But Our Cold Maids Do Dead Men's Fingers Call Them: There, On The Pendent Boughs Her Coronet Weeds Clambering To Hang, An Envious Sliver Broke; When Down Her Weedy Trophies And Herself Fell In The Weeping Brook.

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

Every Subject's Duty Is The Kings, But Every Subject's Soul Is His Own.