What? You take out your sword and then talk about peace? I hate the word peace like I hate hell, all Montagues, and you. Let’s go at it, coward!
I’m only trying to keep the peace. Either put away your sword or use it to help me stop this fight.
Who’s Queen Mab?
She’s the fairies' midwife. She rides around in a wagon drawn by tiny little atoms, and she rides over men’s noses as they lie sleeping. The cover of her wagon is made of grasshoppers' wings...
Good pilgrim, you don’t give your hand enough credit. By holding my hand you show polite devotion. After all, pilgrims touch the hands of statues of saints. Holding one palm against another is like a kiss.
Your hand is like a holy place that my hand is unworthy to visit. If you’re offended by the touch of my hand, my two lips are standing here like blushing pilgrims, ready to make things better with a kiss.
She speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel. You are as glorious as an angel tonight.
I love rich Capulet’s daughter. I love her, and she loves me.
Holy Saint Francis, this is a drastic change! Have you given up so quickly on Rosaline, whom you loved so much?
Ah, Juliet if you’re as happy as I am, and you’re better with words, tell me about the happiness you imagine we’ll have in our marriage.
I can imagine more than I can say—I have more on my mind than words.