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If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking and you beat love down.
And when I shall die, take him and cut him up in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will fall in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? Is the news good or bad, answer to that.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence and have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life.
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word by thee, old Capulet, and Montague, have thrice distrubed the quiet of our streets. If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
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.
Goodnight, goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.
"Scurvy Knave! Pray you sir, a word and, as I told you, my young lady bid me inquire you out."
"Is three long hours; yet she is not come, Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would e as swift in motion as a ball."
"Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man's, ... He is not the flower of courtesy."
"That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth."
"Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon Forsaken?"
"Alone, in company; still my care hath been to have her matched; and having now provided...And then to have a wretched puling fool!"
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses!
This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd.
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; 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.
Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of mine: I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body and attend our will: Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
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 hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In moral 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!
'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.
Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Doth she not think me an old murderer, Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy With blood removed but little from her own? Where is she? and how doth she? and what says My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast: Unseemly woman in a seeming man! Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, And he shall signify from time to time Every good hap to you that chances here:
Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl. Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. / More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!
Romeo and Juliet
O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. / And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!
Juliet and Romeo
[Aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart; And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
Indeed, I never shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold him--dead-- Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.
Evermore showering? In one little body Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, Without a sudden calm, will overset Thy tempest-tossed body
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:
Faith, here it is. Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the county. O, he's a lovely gentleman!
I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were, As living here and you no use of him.
There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, doing more murder in this loathsome world than these poor compunds that thou mayst not sell me
For I will ray her statue in pure gold... There shall no figure be set as that of true and faithful Juliet
My husband lives, That Tybalt would have slain, and Tybalts dead, that would have slain my Romeo
Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, how stands your dispositions to be married?
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, profaners of this neighbourhood-stained steel - will they not hear? What ho, you men, you beasts.
These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume.
O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee now, thou art so low, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
Hang thee, young baggage, disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to a church a'Thursday, or never after look me in the face.
If love be rough with you, be rough with love: prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
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