"Romeo: If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Juliet: Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Romeo: Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo: O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Juliet: Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged. [Kissing her] Juliet: Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. Juliet. You kiss by the book."

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

"So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows."

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!"

"Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; For you and I are past our dancing days."

"But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail!"

"Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing. Mercutio: True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes, Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south."

"O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep: Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider's web; Her collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid: Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers: And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then he dreams of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage."

"Romeo: I dreat a dream to-night. Mercutio: And so did I. Romeo: Well, what was yours? Mercutio: That dreamers often lie."

"Romeo: Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down."

"Why, he's a man of wax."

"God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish."

"That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story."

"One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun."

"Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow."

"One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish."

"This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more."

"My child is yet a stranger in the world; She hath not seen the change of fourteen years: Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride."

"He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost."

"From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd."

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet."

"Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine."

"Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!"

"Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that which, having, makes them short. Benvolio: In love? Romeo: Out— Benvolio: Of love? Romeo: Out of her favour, where I am in love."

"But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun."

"An hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east."

"Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate."

"What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee."

"Gregory, remember thy swashing blow."

"Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson: I do bite my thumb, sir. Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson: [Aside to to Gregory] Is the law of our side, if I say ay? Gregory: No. Sampson: No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir."

"Sampson: When I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. Gregory: The heads of the maids? Sampson: Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt."

"Sampson: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gregory: That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sampson: 'Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall."