"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she."
"No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man...A plague o' both your houses!"
"Tell me not, Friar, that thou hearest of this, unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. 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."
"Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide, thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark! Here's to my love. O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die."