He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.
Act ii. Sc. 2.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Act ii. Sc. 2.
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Act ii. Sc. 2.
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
Act ii. Sc. 2.
Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords.