Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground! On pain of torture, from those bloody hands.
Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. Peace? I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, and look upon thy death. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.īut if you do, sir, I am for you. I will bite my thumb at them which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. And I am a pretty piece of flesh, I am a pretty piece of Flesh! Here comes of the house of Capulet!īoo! Ah, ha ha. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, A pair of star crossed lovers take their life.īubble, bubble, toil and trouble. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. Two households both alike in dignity in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. Which but their children's end not could remove, Is now the two hours traffic of our stage.
The fearful passage of their death marked love, And the continuance of their parents rage. Whose misadventured piteous overthrows doth with their death. A pair of star crossed lovers take their life. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
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