Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.

No one hit me. My foot planted, and my knee just turned to the side.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet

They shall not pass till the stars be darkened: Two swords crossed in front of the Hun; Never a groan but God has harkened, Counting their cruelties one by one.

It is the hour to rend thy chains, the blossom time of souls.

Shakespeare's frequent horseback journeys from London to Stratford, and from Stratford to London, must have made him familiar with the county of Oxfordshire.