Tybalt: Peace? Peace? I hate the word. As I hate Hell, all Montagues and... thee.

Tybalt: What would you have with me?

Mercutio: Why, price of cats, only one of your nine lives!

Juliet: Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Juliet: My only love sprung from my only hate.

Abra: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sampson: Is the law on our side if I say 'ay?'

Gregory: No!

Sampson: I do not bite my thumb at you sir, but I bite my thumb, sir!

Caroline Montague: Away from light steals home my heavy son and private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out and makes himself an artificial night.

Romeo: Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

Juliet: I'll look to like, if looking liking move, But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.