Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love

O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. - Romeo -

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

So quick bright things come to confusion.​​​​​​

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?