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- romoe;ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 25Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbor air, and let rich music’s tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.
- juleit: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.
- romeo:Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore, farewell. I see thou know’st me not.
- tybalt;Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries65That thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw.
- mercutio;O calm dishonourable, vile submission!Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws his sword] Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?
- Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distillèd liquor drink thou off, When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humor, for no pulse 100Shall keep his native progress, but surcease. No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest.
- Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!
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