I am hurt a plague o' both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, hath nothing?
This shall determine that
What are thou hurt?
Mercutio
Romeo
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, shalt with him hence.
Tybalt
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
Come, come with me, and we will make short work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone Till holy church incorporate two in one.
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.
saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake
ave not saints lips, and holy palmers too?...let our lips do what our hands do
he is a villan!
no tybalt
Fie, fie! what, are you mad?
Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, Or never after look me in the face: Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest That God had lent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her: Out on her, hilding!
God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife I'll help it presently
Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,...A thing like death to chide away the shame
Over 30 Million Storyboards Created
No Downloads, No Credit Card, and No Login Needed to Try!