I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.

Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.

I am not bound to please thee with my answer.

You kiss by th' book.

Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.