O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear—

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows

As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand

And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand.

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight,

For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir,

but I bite my thumb, sir.

My only love sprung from my only hate!

Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Prodigious birth of love it is to me

That I must love a loathèd enemy.

Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford

No better term than this: thou art a villain.

O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes

In shape no bigger than an agate stone

On the fore-finger of an alderman,

What storm is this that blows so contrary?

Is Romeo slaughtered and is Tybalt dead?

My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord?

Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom,

For who is living if those two are gone?

Two households, both alike in dignity

(In fair Verona, where we lay our scene),

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name,

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

What was the name of Shakespeare's theatre?