If It Be True That Good Wine

Woe, Destruction, Ruin, And Decay; The Worst Is Death And Death Will Have His Day.

Romeo There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murders In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell. I Sell Thee Poison; Thou Hast Sold Me None. Farewell: Buy Food, And Get Thyself In Flesh. Come, Cordial And Not Poison, Go With Me To Juliet's Grave; For There Must I Use Thee.

Some There Be That Shadows Kiss; Such Have But A Shadow's Bliss.

So Doth The Greater Glory Dim The Less: A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By.

Gratiano Speaks An Infinite Deal Of Nothing, More Than Any Man In All Venice. His Reasons Are As Two Grains Of Wheat Hid In Two Bushels Of Chaff: You Shall Seek All Day Ere You Find Them, And When You Have Them, They Are Not Worth The Search.