Ромео и Джульетта

День жаркий, всюду бродят Капулетти...

Diseases desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all

I am in this earthly world, where to do harm is often laudable, to do good sometime accounted dangerous folly.

We are arrant knaves all, believe none of us.

But virtue, as it never will be moved,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
So lust, though to a radiant angel linked,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed
And prey on garbage.

“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God
has given you one face, and you make yourselves
another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and
nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness
your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath
made me mad.

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world. Now I could drink hot blood and do such bitter business as the day would quake to look upon.