Out of this nettle - danger - we pluck this flower - safety.

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.

Let him smell his way to Dover!

It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, "Thus diddest thou;"

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.

Better conquest never canst thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against giddy, loose suggestions.