"Consort? What, doust thou make us min- / stels? an thou make minstels of us, look to hear / nothing but discords. here's my fiddlestick; here's / that shall make you dance. Zounds escort!"
"Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. / I will not budge for no mans pleasure, I."
"We talk here in the public haunt of men / we either withdraw unto some private place, / or reason coldly of your grievances, / or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us."
"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 knowest me not."
"Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries / That thou hast done me. therefore turn and draw"
" Good king of cats, nothing but one of your/ nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal, and, as/ you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight / will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher/ by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your / ears ere it be out. "