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O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)
Sep 17, 2025
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.
Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out
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.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.
Benvolio- "By my head, here come the Capulets." Mercutio- "By my heel, I care not.
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
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.
Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.
Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.
My only love sprung from my only hate.
it is my lady! *sighs* o, it is my love! o, that she knew she were! she speaks, yet she sais 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.
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
Death lies on her like an untimely frost.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
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 -
Look, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east! Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops.
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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.
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.
He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo
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.
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!
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!
One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will!
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.
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
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.