| A | B |
|---|
| Beauty’s ensign yet / Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, / And death’s pale flag is not advanced there. | Romeo |
| Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. | The Nurse |
| What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word/As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. | Tybalt |
| How stands your disposition to be married? | Lady Capulet |
| For never was a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. | The Prince |
| That which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet. | Juliet |
| O happy dagger! / This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die. | Juliet |
| From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,/A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life | The Chorus |
| We talk here in the public haunt of men: / Either withdraw unto some private place | Benvolio |
| Younger than she are happy mothers made. | Paris |
