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Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
Welcome, gentlemen. Ladies that have their toes Unplagued with corns will walk with you.-
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
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite To scorn at our solemnity this night.
It is my will, thew which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown,and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me That I must love a loathed enemy
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