Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
Seek happy nights to happy days.W
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.
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
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.
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.
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
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.
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. . . .
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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.
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!
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.
These violent delights have violent ends.
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
He that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail.
she shall scant show well that now shows best.
One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
Benvolio- "By my head, here come the Capulets." Mercutio- "By my heel, I care not.
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo
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