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. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. The fearful passage of their death-marked love And the continuance of their parents’ rage, Which, but their children’s end, naught could remove, Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir. That fair for which love groaned for and would die, With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair.

Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new belovèd anywhere.