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  • But my true love is grown to such excess
  • Come, come with me, and we will make short work;For, by your leaves, you shall not stay aloneTill holy church incorporate two in one.
  • Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joyBe heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
  • Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone
  • *blushes*
  • This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
  • I know not, sir.
  • What lady is that, which dothenrich the handOf yonder knight?
  • But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your liveryMarry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.
  • Tybalt, the reason that I have to love theeDoth much excuse the appertaining rageTo such a greeting: villain am I none;Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.
  • Romeo, the hate I bear thee can affordNo better term than this,—thou art a villain.
  • Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
  • A torch for me. Let wantons light of heart. Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels.
  •  What lady is that which doth enrich the handOf yonder knight?
  • I know not, sir.
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