"You are welcome, gentlemen.—Come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall, give room!—And foot it, girls"
Chill Tybalt, let him be.
Welcome to the party! Everyone start dancing!
(I, V, 62-67)
(I, V, 126)
"This, by his voice, should be a Montague.— Fetch me my rapier, boy.—What, dares the slave Come hither, covered with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin."
He's a Montague! I want to fight him!
(I, V, 152-155)
(I, V, 74)
"Content thee, gentle coz. Let him alone."
"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do."
Ur cute... let's kiss
"Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous."
Oh no she's a Capulet!
"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathèd enemy."