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Shakespeare Quotes from Romeo and Juliet
These new tuners of accents.— filed under Affected Speakers
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.— filed under Affliction
Away to heaven, respective lenity,— filed under Anger
What, shall this speech he spoke for our excuse ? Or shall we on without apology.— filed under Apology
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 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shap'd 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. Noting this penury, to myself I said,- An' if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua. Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.— filed under Apothecary
Banish'd, is banish'd from the world, And world's exile is death: then banish'd Is death misterm'd: calling death, -banishment, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,— filed under Banishment
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me. R. J. iii. 3 Then England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,- Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman. R. II. i. 3 Banished? O friar, the damned use that word in hell;— filed under Banishment
She speaks :- O speak again, bright angel! for thou art being o'er my As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, head, of heaven As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes gaze on him , Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, clouds, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing— filed under Beauty
And sails upon the bosom of the air. O she doth teach the torches to burn bright! of night Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night ear; Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's— filed under Beauty
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint , an honourable villain!- O, nature !-what had'st thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book, containing such vile matter, So fairly bound ? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!— filed under Beauty
That book, in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps, locks in the golden story.— filed under Books, Consolation Of
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
Of chastity, the ornaments are chaste. Poems. She'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.— filed under Dissolving
She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor 'bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.— filed under Dissolving
O, what a beast was I to chide him!— filed under Dissolving
O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new made grave, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.— filed under Constancy, Conjugal
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night of Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path-way made by Titan's wheels.— filed under Dawn
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day— filed under Dawn
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
O, my love! my wife ! 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
Her blood is settled and these joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.— filed under Death
Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, The world is not thy friend nor the world's law.— filed under Death
All delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain. L. L1 L. These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume; the sweetest honey Is loathsome in its own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.— filed under Delights
O, I am fortune's fool!— filed under Despair
The time and my intents are savage wild; More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers, on the roaring sea.— filed under Desperation
Happiness courts thee in her best array; But like a misbehav'd and sullen wench, Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.— filed under Discontent
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, which wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.— filed under Dreams
Thou art one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the ope ration of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when,— filed under Duellist
So tedious is this day, As is the night before some festival To an impatient child, that hath new robes,— filed under Expectation
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.— filed under Eye
She speaks, yet she says nothing; -what of that? Her eye discourses, I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.— filed under Eye
With this night's revels; and expire the term Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, By some vile forfeit of untimely death.— filed under Foreboding
Though fond nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.— filed under Funeral Rites
Saint-seducing gold.— filed under Gold
To the April day again. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayest not sell.— filed under Gold
The heart hath treble wrong, When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue. Poems Some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit.— filed under Grief
Your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by its worth, for then It hath no end. M.v.7. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?— filed under Grief
Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doating like me, and like me banished, Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.— filed under Grief
Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.— filed under Rief
O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end, motion, here. And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier.— filed under Rief
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.— filed under Jest
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest. H. IV. PT. II. V. To see now, how a jest shall come about!— filed under Jest
His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep more than did laugh at it. H. V. i.— filed under Jest
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 Imagination
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name.— filed under Impatience Suppressed
What! dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?— filed under Intruder
Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in— filed under Joy
What a pestilent knave is this same !— filed under Knaves
The lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.— filed under Lark
Like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say, -It lightens !— filed under Lightning
A plague of both your houses!— filed under Lineage
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,— filed under Love
They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.— filed under Love
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint. A lover may bestride the gossamere That idle in the wanton summer air, And yet not fall.— filed under Love
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, r Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!— filed under Love
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou may'st think of my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentlemen, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.— filed under Love
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?— filed under Love
Holy St. Francis, what a change is here ! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it doth not taste! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans ring yet in my antient ears; Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline ;-— filed under Love
Dies in its own too-much. 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,— filed under Love
So thou wilt woo: but, else, not for the world See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand,— filed under Love
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out.— filed under Love
Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish : Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.— filed under Love
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears !— filed under Love
'S MESSENGERS. Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over low'ring hills.— filed under Love
Speak but one rhyme and I am satisfied; Cry but,-Ah me! couple but love and dove.— filed under Love
Yet, if thou swear'st, Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' vows, They say, Jove laughs.— filed under Lover's Vows
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops.— filed under Lover's Vows
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 Lover's Vows
Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a lovesong; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bowboy's butt-shaft.— filed under Love-Wound
O the difference of man and man! God made him, therefore let him pass for a man. M. V. i. 2 There is no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.— filed under Man
He was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where honor may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth.— filed under Man
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. She's not well married, that lives married long; But she's best married, that dies married young.— filed under Manuscript
Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.— filed under Meaning
Thou find'st, to be too busy, is some danger. Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.— filed under Meddler
O mischief! thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!— filed under Mischief
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.— filed under Murder
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit. H. IV. PT. II. iv. 4. Then music, with her silver sound,— filed under Music
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,— filed under Mutability
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy, - Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet.— filed under Name
Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.— filed under Name
Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give; Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied: And vice sometime's by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and med'cine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, stays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed foes encamp them still In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will; And, where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.— filed under Nature
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that: Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance; Let me be satisfied, -Is't good or bad?— filed under News
To sweep the dust behind the door. Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo ; and, when he shall die, Take him, and cut him out in little stars, And he shall make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night,— filed under Night
Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black.— filed under Vight
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 Oaths
Look you, I will go pray. '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 Parting
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness. Wilt thou begone? 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 Parting
Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life.— filed under Farting
What, drawn, and talk of peace?— filed under Peace
PHILOSOPHY. PHILOSOPHERS. Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.— filed under Phantasy
Hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom; It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.— filed under Phantasy
Let me have A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer As will disperse itself through all the veins, 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 Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.— filed under Poison
To look that way thou wert. I pray thee leave me to myself to-night; For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.— filed under Praise
The date is out of such prolixity.— filed under Prolixity
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 no other reason, but because thou hast hazel eyes.— filed under Quarrel
And in this state she gallops, night by night, Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as he lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice: Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then ancn Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.— filed under Queen Mab
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn.— filed under Rage
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?— filed under Report
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!— filed under Resignation
He was not born to shame; Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth.— filed under Shame
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep. M. N. iii. 2. Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.— filed under Sleep
Therefore hence, begone :- But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee, joint by joint, And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs. The time and my intents are savage wild; More fierce, and more inexorable far, Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.— filed under Threat
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phœbus' mansion; such a waggoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately.— filed under Time
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both— filed under Welcome
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.— filed under White