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Romeo and Juliet Act 1
I do bite my thumb, sir.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
She’s the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart. My will to her consent is but a part.
Speak briefly. Can you like of Paris, love?
I’ll look to like if looking liking move. But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
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
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk’st of nothing.
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