Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
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-cross'd lovers take their life Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
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.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
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.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
Mercutio: "If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
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.
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
He that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail.
This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
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!
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