"O, I am fortune's fool!"

"For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back."

"Romeo: Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door;…"

"This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd…"

"Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?"

"Lady Capulet: I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. Prince: Romeo…"

"Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit."

"Benvolio: What, art thou hurt? Mercutio: Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough."

"Mercutio: Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Romeo: I thought all for the best. Mercutio: …"

"Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him …"