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There is no spine and no spirit in this generation. My living son, the head of House Montague, is a weakling, but he at least can take sensible direction. The children of this house -- Romeo and Benvolio, namely -- are poor shadows, pallid copies of a red-blooded legacy. Foolish Romeo bleats of love and is easily led to trouble; Benvolio is quiet, but I mislike the insolence in his eyes. He has too much cold foreign blood in him from his mother.

At least the girl Veronica has some backbone in her. I see some glimmers of pride and iron. With training and care, I may be able to mold her into a true Montague yet -- one who will scheme, betray and kill to preserve, protect and advance this house.

She has enough ambition. Whether or not she has the grit to destroy our enemies … time will tell.

I will not release my grip on the throat of this family until they submit.
Men ruin women, and that is all they do, never mind all the amatory nonsense.
Grandmother Montague