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Shakespeare Quotes from Romeo and Juliet
So smile the Heavens upon this holy act That after hours with sorrow chide us not!— filed under Action
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.— filed under Affliction
So tedious is this day, As is the night before some festival To an impatient child, that hath new robes, And may not wear them.— filed under Apparel
The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite.— filed under Appetite
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls.— filed under Babyhood
God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.— filed under Babyhood
Banished? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howlings attend it: How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word-banished?— filed under Banishment
Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.— filed under Beauty
Her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light.— filed under Beauty
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear: Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!— filed under Beauty
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.— filed under Birds-Nightingale
He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.— filed under Blindness
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;— filed under Books
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.— filed under Care
Constancy. All things that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral; Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary.— filed under Change
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.— filed under Chastity
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth.— filed under Confession
'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.— filed under Content
I am the very pink of courtesy.— filed under Covetousness
O, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou, Romeo?— filed under Curiosity
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.— filed under Death
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty; Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.— filed under Death
Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death.— filed under Death
How oft, when men are at the point of death, Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death.— filed under Death
O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!— filed under Deceit
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.— filed under Delight
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but-"Ay me!" pronounce but "love" and "dove."— filed under Desire
I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit and so let me. Act IV. Sc. 1. Drops earliest to the ground; and SO let me. L. Merchant of Venice. 114. Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear all the veins As will disperse itself through all the veins may fall dead That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath As violently as hasty powder fir'd Act V. Sc. 1. Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.— filed under Despair
Oh, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break Y at once! To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! end Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; motion here; one heavy bier! Act III. Sc. 2. And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!— filed under Despair
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.— filed under Dreams
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was. น. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 211. I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind.— filed under Dreams
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say "It lightens."— filed under Electricity
Every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.— filed under Eloquence
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious.— filed under Envy
Her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing and think it were not night.— filed under Eyes
Compare her face with some that I shall show; And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.— filed under Face
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman.— filed under Fairies
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.— filed under Fear
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more.— filed under Festivities
Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part: Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.— filed under Flowers-Azalea
O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.— filed under Foot
O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.— filed under Fortune
There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor 'compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.— filed under Gold
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine.— filed under Grief
Some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit.— filed under Grief
They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand.— filed under Happiness
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say "It lightens."— filed under Haste
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 101. Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast.— filed under Haste
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.— filed under Holidays
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.— filed under Honesty
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave?— filed under Hypocrisy
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.— filed under Inconstancy
And steal immortal blessing from her lips; Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.— filed under Kisses
At lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.— filed under Love
For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt.— filed under Love
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him, and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.— filed under Love
It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears.— filed under Love
Love goes toward love as school-boys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.— filed under Love
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in a lover's eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.— filed under Love
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. u. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 234. Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over louring hills; Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.— filed under Love
Song. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee The more I have, for both are infinite.— filed under Love
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!— filed under Love
Though last, not least in love! Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 189. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.— filed under Love
Why, he's a man of wax.— filed under Man
She is not well married that lives married long; But she's best married that dies married young.— filed under Matrimony
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.— filed under Mercy
Now let it work: Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt. C. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 265. O mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!— filed under Mischief
Meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones.— filed under Misery
O, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune's book.— filed under Misfortune
Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there? Measure for Measure. Act 2. Sc. 2. L. 167. Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.— filed under Modesty
When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads.— filed under Months-May
An hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east.— filed under Morning
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.— filed under Morning
The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.— filed under Morning
What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet. S.— filed under Nature
Come, gentle night, come, loving, blackbrow'd night.— filed under Night
Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee.— filed under Oaths
A beggarly account of empty boxes.— filed under Occupations-Acting
Hire me twenty cunning cooks.— filed under Occupations-Culinary
What's there? Things for the cook, sir: but I know not what.— filed under Occupations-Culinary
I do remember an apothecary, - And hereabouts he dwells, -whom late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.— filed under Occupations-Medicine
See CAYLEY'S Life of Raleigh. Vol. I. Ch. III. Good-night, good-night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good-night till it be morrow.— filed under Parting
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.— filed under Philosophy
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?— filed under Pity
The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. My poverty, but not my will, consents. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.— filed under Poverty
He jests at scars that never felt a wound. hh.— filed under Proverbs
My man's as true as steel.— filed under Libanius
1685. See MACAULAY'S History of England. Vol. I. Ch. V. For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.— filed under Providence
Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes.— filed under Quarreling
Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat.— filed under Quarreling
Two may keep counsel, putting one away.— filed under Secrecy
He was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame was asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth.— filed under Ships
Thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 363. Thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, depriv'd of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death.— filed under Sleep
And her immortal part with angels lives.— filed under Sorrow
Scaligerana. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.— filed under Talk
Villain and he be many miles asunder. S.— filed under Villainy
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action dignified.— filed under Virtue
O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo: but else, not for the world.— filed under Wooing
No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.— filed under Youth