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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!

 To mine own room again: making so bold, And dare me to the desert with thy sword; Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; I dare do all that may become a man; Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is Courage to make's love known? And in my temper soften'd valour's steel. We must be brief when traitors brave the field. Yet who so bold but says he sees it not! I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further: Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch: