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I do bite my thumb, sir.
Clubs, bills, and partisians! Strike! Beat them down! Down with the Capulets and Montagues!
Do you quarrel, sir?
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Out, out of her favor, where I am in love.
And too soon marred are those early made. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart. My will to her consent is but a part.
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Where? To supper? Whose house?
My master Capulet's house, if you do not belong to the Montagues, come crush a cup of wine.
An honor! Were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat.
Tell me, daughter Juliet, how stands your disposition to be married?
It is an honor that I dream not of.
Content thee, gentle coz. Let him alone. He bears him like a portly gentleman.
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.