Be Checked For Silence, But

Thou Hast No Figures Nor No Fantasies Which Busy Care Draws In The Brains Of Men; Therefore Thou Sleep'st So Sound.

Winter, Which, Being Full Of Care, Makes Summer's Welcome Thrice More Wish'd, More Rare.

It Is Silliness To Live When To Live Is Torment, And Then Have We A Prescription To Die When Death Is Our Physician.

Though Fortune's Malice Overthrow My State, My Mind Exceeds The Compass Of Her Wheel.

O! She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiop's Ear; Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. - Romeo -