Then Happy I That Love And Am

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

Be Advised; Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself: We May Outrun, By Violent Swiftness, That Which We Run At, And Lose By Over-running. Know You Not, The Fire That Mounts The Liquor Til Run O'er, In Seeming To Augment It Wastes It?

For Brutus, As You Know, Was Caesar's Angel: Judge, O You Gods, How Dearly Caesar Loved Him! This Was The Most Unkindest Cut Of All

Few Things Loves Better Than To Abhor Himself.

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