Two households, both alike in dignity In fair Verona, where we lay our scene From ancient grudge break to new mutiny Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.

Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.

The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.

She is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.