JULIET: I sent the nurse at nine. she said she'd be back in a half-hour. Maybe she can't find him.
No, that can't be. Oh, she's slow!
Love's messengers should be thoughts, which fly ten times faster than a sunbeam.
They should be strong enough to push shadows over the dark hills.
That's why Venus’ chariot is drawn by nimble doves, and the wind-swift Cupid has wings!
Now it's noon. That's three hours since nine, and she hasn't come back.
If she were passionate and full of warm, youthful blood, she'd be as swift as a ball, bouncing my words to my sweet love and returning immediately with his answer.
But old folks, many pretend like they're already dead–slow, heavy, and pale as lead.