I will bite my thumb at them which is a disgrace if they bear it.
do you bite your thumb at us sir?
put up your swords, you know not what you do.
I hate the word as I hate hell, all Montagues and thee
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace... Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word By the old Capulet and Montague... If you ever disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the price
Underneath the sycamore That westward rooteth from the city's side.