From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life.
(Chorus: Prologue)
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
(Juliet: Act I, Sc. V, L. 142)
See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand:
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
(Romeo: Act II, Sc. II, L. 23)
What's in a name That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
(Juliet: Act II, Sc. II, L. 43)
Juliet: 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone;
And yet no further than a wanton's bird,
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
....