We Must Be Brief When Traitors Brave

Sound Trumpets! Let Our Bloody Colours Wave! And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

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

What Time Hath Scanted Men In Hair, He Hath Given Them In Wit.

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Grinding; But You Must Tarry The Bolting. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Bolting; But You Must Tarry The Leavening. Still Have I Tarried. Ay, To The Leavening; But Here's Yet In The Word 'hereafter' The Kneading, The Making Of The Cake, The Heating Of The Oven, And The Baking; Nay, You Must Stay The Cooling Too, Or You May Chance To Burn Your Lips.

Guiltiness Will Speak, Though Tongues Were Out Of Use