Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

On pain of torture...
It is not hand...
I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes.
Is full of pain
...so early walking did I see your son.
“It is too rash, too unadvised Too sudden, too like the lightning
Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
...shuts up his windows...
... both alike in dignity...
Juliet! Ugh!
- But 'tis no wit to go! - Why, may one ask?
...or shall I speak at this?
What, art thou drawn among these... heartless hinds?
Young hearts
So please you, step aside.
... the lady widow of Utruvio, mmm, and her lovely nieces Rosaline...
Where are you now?
This... precious book of love, this unbound lover...
...compare her face with some that I shall show...
Here comes our kinsman. Say better!
Come, let's away!
What o'clock tomorrow shall I send to thee?
...nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes...
Go!
Amore...
...that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Verona's summer hath not such a flower...
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Sweet, good night!
Give me my sin again.
Put up your Swords!
Humours! Madman!
I'll look to like, if looking liking move.
Black and portentous must this humour prove...
I am a pretty piece of flesh!