Romeo And Juliet Juliet Quotes by William Shakespeare, Emily Rodda and many others.
I’ll look to like; if looking, liking move.
I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.
One fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.
What light through yonder window breaks?
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?
I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
This day’s black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.
I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
There is thy gold, worse poison to men’s souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
All is well that ends well
I’ll look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. – Romeo –
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)
for Mercutio’s soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o’er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. 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!
you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself pois’d with herself in either eye;
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh’d
Your lady’s love against some other maid
That I will show you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well that now seems best.
Herself pois’d with herself in either eye;
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh’d
Your lady’s love against some other maid
That I will show you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well that now seems best.
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
she shall scant show well that now shows best.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.
My only love sprung from my only hate.
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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.
Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
These violent delights have violent ends.
Death lies on her like an untimely frost.
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Benvolio- “By my head, here come the Capulets.” Mercutio- “By my heel, I care not.
He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
