Romeo and Juliet Act 1 Storyboard
Storyboard Text
- On pain of torture, from those bloody hands. Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground.
- Let two more summers wither in their pride... Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride’.
- Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
- I have a soul of lead so stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
- 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.
- My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! That I must love a loathed enemy...
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