William Shakespeare Quotes About Romeo And Juliet Key
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.
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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. . . .
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Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.
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These violent delights have violent ends.
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Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
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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 -
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
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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.
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I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
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These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
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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.
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she shall scant show well that now shows best.
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What light through yonder window breaks?
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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My only love sprung from my only hate.
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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 his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
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Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
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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.
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I'll look to like; if looking, liking move.
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He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
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Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
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Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
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Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
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Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
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