"Surely you jest, Father?" Juliet said, on her knees in front of Lord Capulet with her hands clasped together and held in front of her chin. "Why doth thou forbid me from seeing my love? Why doth thou keep me from my Romeo?"

"I jest not, daughter," Capulet replied, pulling himself to his feet and looking down on his child. "That Montague be trouble, Juliet; he is a rat, and shan't be fit for any child of mine."

Tears welled in Juliet's eyes as she stood and glared at her father, arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowed. "Father," she started, a tear sliding down her face, "thou venomed plume-plucked death-token! Thou art the grossest embodiment of suck! And you shan't ever be forgiven!"

As Juliet stormed out of the room, Capulet sank back into his chair and dropped his face into his hands. "Where," he moaned to himself, "oh, where hath my beloved and saintly daughter been banished to?"