Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow
yes, better, sir.
Say "better." here comes one of my master's kinsmen
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.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand to much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.
I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo
What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my council
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more to blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath this neighbor air, and let rich music’s tongue unfold the imagined happiness that both receive in either by this dear encounter.
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
As much to him, else is his thanks too much
Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain
Come but I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery. Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower. Your worship in that sense may call him “man.”
Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is to soon. A Thursday let it be- a thursday, tell her, she shall be married to this noble earl....