Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,/Herself poised with herself in either eye:/But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd/Your lady's love against some other maid/That I will show you shining at this feast,/And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,/But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. (1.3.93-100)

And we mean well in going to this mask;/But 'tis no wit to go.

Why, may one ask?

I dream'd a dream to-night.

And so did I.

Well, what was yours?

That dreamers often lie.

In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. (1.4.49-56)

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,/And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand./Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!/For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. (1.5.48-51)

This, by his voice, should be a Montague./Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave/Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,/To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?/Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,/To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. (1.5.52-57)

Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme/I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,/How stands your disposition to be married? (1.3.67-69)

But saying o'er what I have said before:/My child is yet a stranger in the world;/She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,/Let two more summers wither in their pride,/Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. (1.2.7-11)

True, I talk of dreams,/Which are the children of an idle brain,/Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,/Which is as thin of substance as the air/And more inconstant than the wind, who woos/Even now the frozen bosom of the north,/And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,/Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. (1.4.101-109)

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.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

(Page 21)

But come, young waverer
come, go with me. 
In one respect I'll thy assistant
be,
For this alliance may so happy 
prove
To turn you households'
rancor to pure love.
(2.3 96-99