1 Hence from Verona art thou banished.
2 But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
3 I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
4 The Prince will doom thee death If thou art taken.
5 Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John.
6 Affliction is enanmour'd of thy parts And thou art wedded to calamity.
7 Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy.
8 Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
9 Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this: Thou art a villain.
10 To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
11 And I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
12 I'll give thee armour to keep off that word, Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
13 Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
14 O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short, for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.
15 Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest Up to the ears.
16 Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art uprous'd with some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right, Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.
17 O speak again bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
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