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Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
Sep 17, 2025
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
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.
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
Mercutio: "If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
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 -
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
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.
I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo
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. . . .
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. 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; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were!
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties
My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.
What light through yonder window breaks?
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
All's well that ends well.
All is well that ends well
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