“Tis but thy name that is my enemy / Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. / What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, / Nor arm, nor face. O, be some other name / Belonging to a man.” (2.2.41-45).
“Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set / On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. / As mine on hers is set on mine, / And all is combined, save what thou must combine, / By holy marriage.” (2.3.61-65).
“Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, / Brags of his substance, not of ornament. / They are but beggars that can count their worth, / But my true love is growth to such an excess / I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.” (2.6.30-34).