I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)
Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.