| 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. | Benvolio |
| Thou art like one of those fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says “God send me no need of thee!” and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer when indeed there is no need. | Mercutio |
| Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. | Mercutio |
| Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou, why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard that thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes…didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter?… | Mercutio |
| An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. | Benvolio |
| Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good e’en. A word with one of you. | Tybalt |
| And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something. Make it a word and a blow. | Mercutio |
| You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion. | Tybalt |
| Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here’s my fiddlestick. Here’s that shall make you dance. | Mercutio |
| 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. | Benvolio |
| Men’s eyes were made to look and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I. | Mercutio |
| Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man. | Tybalt |
| But I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery. Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower. Your worship in that sense may call him “man”. | Mercutio |
| Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain. | Tybalt |
| Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore, farewell. I see thou know’st me not. | Romeo |
| Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw. | Tybalt |
| I do protest I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise, till tho shalt know the reason of my love. And so, good Capulet- which name I tender as dearly as my own- be satisfied. | Romeo |
| O calm dishonourable, vile submission! Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk? | Mercutio |
| Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. | Mercutio |
| Draw, Benvolio. Beat down their weapons. Gentleman, for shame! Forbear this outrage. | Romeo |
| I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone and hath nothing? | Mercutio |
| Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis enough. Where is my page?–Go villain, fetch a surgeon. | Mercutio |
| Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much. | Romeo |
| No, ’tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as a church-door, but ’tis enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o’ both your houses! | Mercutio |
| Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat to scratch a man to death! A braggart, a rogue, a villain that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. | Mercutio |
| Help me into some house, Benvolio. Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses! They have made worms’ meat of me. I have it, and soundly too. Your houses! | Mercutio |
| This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally, my very friend, hath got his mortal hurt in my behalf. My reputation stained with Tybalt’s slander.–Tybalt, that an hour hath been my kinsman! | Romeo |
| O sweet Juliet, thy beauty hath made me effeminate and in my temper softened valor’s steel! | Romeo |
| O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, which too untimely here did scorn the earth. | Benvolio |
| This day’s black fate on more days doth depend. This but begins the woe others must end. | Romeo |
| Alive in triumph—and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, and fire-eyed fury be my conduct now. | Romeo |
| 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. | Romeo |
| Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here shalt with him hence. | Tybalt |
| Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazed. The Prince will doom thee death if thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away! | Benvolio |
| Oh, I am a fortune’s fool! | Romeo |
| Where are the vile beginners of this fray? | Prince Escalus |
| O noble prince, I can discover all the unlucky manage of the fatal brawl. There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, that slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. | Benvolio |
| Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother’s child!…Prince, as thou art true, for blood of our shed blood of Montague. | Lady Capulet |
| Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? | Prince Escalus |
| Tybalt here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay. Romeo, that spoke him fair, bade me bethink how nice the quarrel was and urged withal your high displeasure. All this uttered with gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed… | Benvolio |
| …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, who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, and, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats cold death aside and with the other send it back to Tybalt… | Benvolio |
| …Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain. And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. | Benvolio |
| He is a kinsman to the Montague. Affection makes him false…I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give. Romeo slew Tybalt. Romeo must not live. | Lady Capulet |
| Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio. Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? | Prince Escalus |
| And for that offence immediately we do exile him hence….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. | Prince Escalus |
| Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. | Prince Escalus |
| Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds…and Romeo leap to these arms, untalked of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their amorous rites by their own beauties, or, if love be blind, it best agrees with night. | Juliet |
| Come, civil night, thou sober-suited matron, all in black, and learn me how to lose a winning match played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods…With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold, think true love acted simple modesty. | Juliet |
| And when I 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. | Juliet |
| Oh, I have bought the mansion of a love, but not possessed it, and though I am sold, not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day as is the night before some festival to an impatient child that hat new robes and may not wear them. | Juliet |
| Now, Nurse, what news? What hast thou there? The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch? | Juliet |
| Ah, welladay! He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone! Alack the day! He’s gone, he’s killed, he’s dead! | Nurse |
| What devil art thou that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roared in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but “ay”, and that bare vowel I shall poison more than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. | Juliet |
| I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes—God save the mark!–Here on his manly breast. A piteous corse… | Nurse |
| O break, my hear, poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes, ne’er look on liberty. Vile earth, to earth resign. End motion here, and thou and Romeo press one heavy bier. | Juliet |
| O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! | Nurse |
| What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughtered, and is Tybalt dead? | Juliet |
| Tybalt is gone, and Romeo is banished. Romeo that killed him—he is banished. | Nurse |
| O God, did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood? | Juliet |
| O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical! Dove-feathered raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! A damned saint, and honorable villain! When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend in moral paradise of such sweet flesh? | Juliet |
| Was ever book containing such vile matter so fairly bound? Oh, that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace! | Juliet |
| There’s no trust, no faith, no honesty in men. All perjured, all forsworn, all naught, all dissembles. Shame come to Romeo! | Nurse |
| Blistered by thy tongue for such a wish! He was not born to shame. Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit, for ’tis a throne were honor may be crowned. | Juliet |
| Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, when I, thy three hours’ wife, have mangled it? | Juliet |
| Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring…my husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain, and Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort. But oh, it presses to my memory, like damned guilt deeds to sinners’ minds. | Juliet |
| “Romeo is banished.” There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, in that word’s death. No words can that woe sound. Where is my father and my mother, Nurse? | Juliet |
| Take up those cords.—Poor ropes, you are beguiled, both you and I, for Romeo is exiled. He made you for a highway to my bed, but I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. | Juliet |
| Hie to your chamber. I’ll find Romeo to comfort you. I wot well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night. I’ll to him. He is hid at Lawrence’ cell. | Nurse |
| O, find him! Give this ring to my true night, and bid him come to take his last farewell. | Juliet |
| Affliction is enamoured of thy parts, and thou art wedded to calamity. | Friar Lawerence |
| Father, what news? What is the Prince’s doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand that I yet know not? | Romeo |
| A gentler judgment vanished from his lips: Not body’s death, but body’s banishment. | Friar Lawrence |
| Ha, banishment! Be merciful, say “death,” for exile hath more terror in his look, much more than death. Do not say “banishment”. | Romeo |
| Calling death “banishment”, thou cutt’st my head off with a golden ax and smilest upon the stroke that murders me. | Romeo |
| O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death..this is dear mercy, and thou seest it now. | Friar Lawrence |
| ‘Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here, where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog and little mouse, every unworthy thing, live here in heaven and may look on her, but Romeo may not. | Romeo |
| Who even in purse and vestal modesty, still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin…”Banished”! O Friar, the damned use that word in hell. | Romeo |
| I’ll give thee armor to keep off that word- Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy-to comfort thee though thou art banished. | Friar Lawrence |
| Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, displant a town, reverse a prince’s doom, it helps not… | Romeo |
| Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. | Romeo |
| Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. I come from Lady Juliet. | Nurse |
| O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar, where is my lady’s lord? Where’s Romeo? | Nurse |
| Even so lies she, blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up, stand up. Stand, an you be a man. For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand. | Nurse |
| Doth she not think me an old murderer, now I have stained the childhood of our joy with blood removed but little from her own? | Romeo |
| Oh, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps, and now falls on her bed, and then starts up, and “Tybalt” calls, and then on Romeo cries, and then down falls again. | Nurse |
| As if that name, shot from the deadly level of a gun, did murder her, as that name’s cursed hand murdered her kinsman. | Romeo |
| Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better tempered. | Friar Lawrence |
| Hold thy desperate hand. Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. Thy tears are womanish. | Friar Lawrence |
| Thy Juliet is alive, for whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead–there art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, but thou slew’st Tybalt–there art thou happy. A pack of blessings light upon thy back, happiness courts thee in her best array. | Friar Lawrence |
| But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, thou pout’st upon thy fortune and thy love…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. | Friar Lawrence |
| O Lord, I could have stayed here all the night to hear good counsel. Oh, what learning is! My lord, I’ll tell my lady you will come. | Nurse |
| I’ll find out your man, and he shall signify from time to time every good hap to you that chances here. Give me thy hand. | Friar Lawerence |
| But that a joy past joy calls out on me, it were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell. | Romeo |
| Things have fall’n out, sir, so unluckily, that we have had no time to move our daughter. Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, and so did I. Well, we were born to die. | Lord Capulet |
| These times of woe afford no time to woo. Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. | Paris |
| I will, and know her mind early tomorrow. Tonight she is mewed up to her heaviness. | Lady Capulet |
| Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender of my child’s love. I think she will be ruled in all respects by me. Nay, more, I doubt it not.–Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed. Acquaint her her of my son Paris’ love, and bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next— | Lord Capulet |
| -O’ Thursday, tell her, she shall be married to this noble earl–Will you be ready? Do you like this hate? | Lord Capulet |
| Well you get gone. O’ Thursday be it, then.–Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed. Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day- | Lord Capulet |
| Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, not the lark, that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear. | Juliet |
| It was the lark, the herald of the morn, no nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. | Romeo |
| Yon light is not daylight, I know it. It is some meteor that the sun exhales to be to thee this night a torchbearer, and light thee on thy way to Mantua. | Juliet |
| Let me be put to death. I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye…I have more care to stay than will to go… | Romeo |
| It is the lark that sings so out of tune, straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division. | Juliet |
| Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. The day is broke. Be wary, look about. | Nurse |
| Art thou gone so, love, lord? Ay, husband, friend, I must hear from thee every day in the hour, for in a minute there are many days. Oh, by this count I shall be much in years. | Juliet |
| 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. Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale. | Juliet |
| O fortune, fortune! All men call thee fickle. If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him that is renowned for faith? Be fickle, fortune, for then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, but send him back. | Juliet |
| Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. Therefore, have done. Some grief shows much of love, but much of grief shows still some want of wit. | Lady Capulet |
| Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death, as that the villain lives which slaughtered him. | Lady Capulet |
| I’ll send to one in Mantua, where that same banished runagate doth live, shall give him such an unaccustomed dram… | Lady Capulet |
| Indeed, I never shall be satisfied with Romeo till I behold him-dead-is my poor heart for a kinsman vexed. Madam, if you could find out but a man to bear a poison, I would temper it, that Romeo should…to wreak the love I bore my cousin upon his body that slaughtered him! | Juliet |
| Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, the gallant, young, and noble gentleman, the County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church, shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. | Lady Capulet |
| ..I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet. And when I do, I swear it shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, rather than Paris. These are news indeed! | Juliet |
| Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself, and see how he will take it at your hands. | Lady Capulet |
| When the sun sets the air doth drizzle dew, but for the sunset of my brother’s son it rains downright. How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears?…How now, wife? Have you delivered to her our decree? | Lord Capulet |
| Ay sir, but she will none, she gives you thanks. I would the fool were married to her grave! | Lady Capulet |
| Doth she not give us thanks? Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought so worthy a gentleman to be her bride. | Lord Capulet |
| Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love. | Juliet |
| How, how, how, how? Chopped logic! What is this?…To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church, or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you baggage! | Lord Capulet |
| Good Father, I beseech you on my knees, hear me with patience but to speak a word. | Juliet |
| Disobedient wretch!…Speak not. Reply not. Do not answer me. My fingers itch… | Lord Capulet |
| God’s bread! It makes me mad. Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, alone, in company…and having now provided a gentleman of noble parentage…and then to have a wretched puling fool, a whining mammet… | Lord Capulet |
| An 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. | Lord Capulet |
| Delay this marriage for a month, a week. Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed in that dim monument where Tybalt lies. | Juliet |
| Faith, here it is. Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing that he dares ne’er comes back to challenge you. Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Romeo’s a dishclout to him. | Nurse |
| Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue… | Juliet |
Romeo and Juliet Quotes: Act 3
December 1, 2019