Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling.Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me.
Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year oldI bade her come. What, lamb! What, ladybird!God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!
But saying o'er what I have said before. My child is yet a stranger in the world.She hath not seen the change of fourteen years.Let two more summers wither in their pridere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Of honorable reckoning are you both.And pity ’tis you lived at odds so long.But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?