| Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! | -Benvolio then romeomeaning: What’s sad is that love is supposed to be blind, but it can still make you do whatever it wants. |
| Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. / Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love. / Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! / O anything, of nothing first create! / O heavy lightness! Serious vanity! / Misshapen chaos of well-seeming froms! / Feather of lead, bight smoke, cold fire, sick health! / Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! / This love feel I, that feel no love in this. / Dost thou not laugh? / “No. Coz, I rather weep.” | romeo then benvolio |
| Why, such is love’s transgression. / Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, / Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pressed / With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown / Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. / Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; / Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; / Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers’ tears. / What is it else? A madness most discreet, / A choking gall and a preserving sweet / Farewell, my coz. | romeo |
| For men so old as we to keep the peace.Of honourable reckoning are you both;And pity ’tis you lived at odds so long.But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? | capulet and paris |
| At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s / Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, / With all the admired beauties of Verona. / Go thither, and with unattainted eye / Compare her face with some that I shall show, / And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. “When the devout religion of mine eye / Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires, / And the, who, often drowned, could never die, / Trasparent heretics, be burned for liars! / One fairer than my love! The all-seeing sun / Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun. | benvolio then romeomeaning: The beautiful Rosaline whom you love so much will be at Capulet’s traditional feast, along with every beautiful woman in Verona. Go there and compare her objectively to some other girls I’ll show you. The woman who you think is as beautiful as a swan is going to look as ugly as a crow to you. |
| Metaphors for Paris- Why, he’s a man of wax. He’s so amazing, can you like him? “I’ll look to like, if looking liking move. / But no more deep will I endart mine eye / Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. | nurse and lady capulet |
| Talks about nimble soles, cupit, a sould of lead, Romeo being a lover, and then says “Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, / Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. | romeo and mercutio |
| Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! / “True, I talk of dreams, / Which are the children of an idle brain, / Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, | romeo and mercutio |
| I fear, too early. For my mind misgives / Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, / Shall bitterly begin his fearful date / With this night’s revels, and expire the term / Of a despised life closed in my breast / By some vile forfeit of untimely death. / But He that hat the steerage of my course / Dircet my sail! On, lusty gentlemen | romeomeaning: I’m worried we’ll get there too early. I have a feeling this party tonight will be the start of something bad, something that will end with my own death. But whoever’s in charge of where my life’s going can steer me wherever they want. Onward, lover boys! |
| Oh, 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 to dear! / So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows / As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. They measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it sight! / For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night. | romeo meaning:Oh, she shows the torches how to burn bright! She stands out against the darkness like a jeweled earring hanging against the cheek of an African. Her beauty is too good for this world; she’s too beautiful to die and be buried. She outshines the other women like a white dove in the middle of a flock of crows. When this dance is over, I’ll see where she stands, and then I’ll touch her hand with my rough and ugly one. Did my heart ever love anyone before this moment? My eyes were liars, then, because I never saw true beauty before tonight. |
| Form a sonnet at the dance, about sins getting purged with a kiss! | romeo and juliet |
| Oh, dear account! My life is my foe’s debt | romeo |
| Go ask his name. If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. / “His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy.” 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. “What’s this. What’s this?” | nurse then julietmeaning: The only man I love is the son of the only man I hate! I saw him too early without knowing who he was, and I found out who he was too late! Love is a monster for making me fall in love with my worst enemy. |
| Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, and young affection gapes to be his heir———–But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, tempering extremities with extreme sweet | chorusmeaning:Now Romeo’s old feelings of desire are dying, and a new desire is eager to take their place. Romeo groaned for the beautiful Rosaline and said he would die for her, but compared with tender Juliet, Rosaline doesn’t seem beautiful now. Now someone loves Romeo, and he’s in love again—both of them falling for each others’ good looks. But he has to make his speeches of love to a woman who’s supposed to be his enemy. And she’s been hooked by someone she should fear. Because he’s an enemy, Romeo has no chance to see Juliet and say the things a lover normally says. And Juliet’s just as much in love as he, but she has even less opportunity to meet her lover. But love gives them power, and time gives them the chance to meet, sweetening the extreme danger with intense pleasure. |
| 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. | romeomeaning: But wait, what’s that light in the window over there? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Rise up, beautiful sun, and kill the jealous moon. The moon is already sick and pale with grief because you, Juliet, her maid, are more beautiful than she. |
| Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,Having some business, do entreat her eyesTo twinkle in their spheres till they return.What if her eyes were there, they in her head?The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heavenWould through the airy region stream so brightThat birds would sing and think it were not night.See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!O, that I were a glove upon that hand,That I might touch that cheek! | romeomeaning:Don’t be her maid, because she is jealous. Virginity makes her look sick and green. Only fools hold on to their virginity. Let it go. Oh, there’s my lady! Oh, it is my love. Oh, I wish she knew how much I love her. She’s talking, but she’s not saying anything. So what? Her eyes are saying something. I will answer them. I am too bold. She’s not talking to me. Two of the brightest stars in the whole sky had to go away on business, and they’re asking her eyes to twinkle in their places until they return. What if her eyes were in the sky and the stars were in her head?—The brightness of her cheeks would outshine the stars the way the sun outshines a lamp. If her eyes were in the night sky, they would shine so brightly through space that birds would start singing, thinking her light was the light of day. Look how she leans her hand on her cheek. Oh, I wish I was the glove on that hand so that I could touch that cheek. |
| 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. | julietmeaning: Oh, Romeo, Romeo, why do you have to be Romeo? Forget about your father and change your name. Or else, if you won’t change your name, just swear you love me and I’ll stop being a Capulet. |
| What’s in a name? that which we call a roseBy any other name would smell as sweet;So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,Retain that dear perfection which he owesWithout that title. Romeo, doff thy name,And for that name which is no part of theeTake all myself. | julietmeaning: It’s only your name that is my enemy;You are yourself, not even a Montague.What’s “Montague?” It is not a hand, or a foot,Or an arm, or a face, or any other partBelonging to a man. O, be some other name!What’s in a name? that which we call a roseWould smell as sweet if it had any other name.So Romeo, if he wasn’t called “Romeo,” wouldRetain that dear perfection which he hasWithout that title. Romeo, throw your name away;And for that name, which isn’t part of you,Take all of me. |
| If my heart’s dear love——-Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,I have no joy of this contract to-night:It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;Too like the lightning, which doth cease to beEre one can say ‘It lightens.’ Sweet, good night!This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath,May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.Good night, good night! as sweet repose and restCome to thy heart as that within my breast! | romeo then julietmeaning:Well, don’t swear. Although you bring me joy, I can’t take joy in this exchange of promises tonight. It’s too crazy. We haven’t done enough thinking. It’s too sudden. It’s too much like lightning, which flashes and then disappears before you can say, “it’s lightning.” My sweet, good night. Our love, which right now is like a flower bud in the summer air, may turn out to be a beautiful flower by the next time we meet. I hope you enjoy the same sweet peace and rest I feel in my heart. |
| Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,So soon forsaken? young men’s love then liesNot truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. | friar |
| Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. | friar |
| Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with awhite wench’s black eye; shot through the ear with alove-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with theblind bow-boy’s butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter tybalt? | mercutiomeaning: Oh, poor Romeo! He’s already dead. He’s been stabbed by a white girl’s black eye. He’s been cut through the ear with a love song. The center of his heart has been split by blind Cupid’s arrow. Is he man enough at this point to face off with Tybalt? |
| Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now artthou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:for this drivelling love is like a great natural,that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. | mercutiomeaning:Why, isn’t all this joking better than groaning about love? Now you’re sociable. Now you’re Romeo. Now you are what you’ve learned to be and what you are naturally. This love of yours was like a blithering idiot who runs up and down looking for a hole to hide his toy in. |
| The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;In half an hour she promised to return.Perchance she cannot meet him: that’s not so.O, she is lame! love’s heralds should be thoughts,Which ten times faster glide than the sun’s beams,Driving back shadows over louring hills:Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw love,And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.Now is the sun upon the highmost hillOf this day’s journey, and from nine till twelveIs three long hours, yet she is not come.Had she affections and warm youthful blood,She would be as swift in motion as a ball;My words would bandy her to my sweet love,And his to me:But old folks, many feign as they were dead;Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead | juliet |
| These violent delights have violent endsAnd in their triumph die, like fire and powder,Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honeyIs loathsome in his own deliciousnessAnd in the taste confounds the appetite:Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. | friarmeaning:These sudden joys have sudden endings. They burn up in victory like fire and gunpowder. When they meet, as in a kiss, they explode. Too much honey is delicious, but it makes you sick to your stomach. Therefore, love each other in moderation. That is the key to long-lasting love. Too fast is as bad as too slow. |
| No better term than this,–thou art a villain.—-Tybalt, the reason that I have to love theeDoth much excuse the appertaining rageTo such a greeting: villain am I none;Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not.—Boy, this shall not excuse the injuriesThat thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.—–I do protest, I never injured thee,But love thee better than thou canst devise,Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:And so, good Capulet,–which name I tenderAs dearly as my own,–be satisfied. | tybalt and romeo |
| Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;For thou wilt lie upon the wings of nightWhiter than new snow on a raven’s back.Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow’d night,Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fineThat all the world will be in love with nightAnd pay no worship to the garish sun.O, I have bought the mansion of a love,But not possess’d it, and, though I am sold,Not yet enjoy’d: so tedious is this dayAs is the night before some festivalTo an impatient child that hath new robesAnd may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,And she brings news; and every tongue that speaksBut Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence. | julietmeaning: Come, night. Come, Romeo. come, you day in night;For you will lie upon the wings of night,Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night,Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fineThat all the world will be in love with night,And pay no worship to the glaring sun.O, I have bought the mansion of a love,But I have not moved in, and, though I am sold,I have not yet been enjoyed. So boring this day is,As the night before some festival isTo an impatient child that has new clothes,And can’t wear them. O, here comes my nurse,And she brings news, and every tongue that speaksOnly Romeo’s name, speaks with heavenly eloquence |
| 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 fiendIn moral paradise of such sweet flesh?Was ever book containing such vile matterSo fairly bound? O that deceit should dwellIn such a gorgeous palace! | julietmeaning:Oh, he’s like a snake disguised as a flower. Did a dragon ever hide in such a beautiful cave? He’s a beautiful tyrant and a fiendish angel! He’s a raven with the feathers of the dove. He’s a lamb who hunts like a wolf! I hate him, yet he seemed the most wonderful man. He’s turned out to be the exact opposite of what he seemed. He’s a saint who should be damned. He’s a villain who seemed honorable. Oh nature, what were you doing in hell? Why did you put the soul of a criminal in the perfect body of a man? Was there ever such an evil book with such a beautiful cover? Oh, I can’t believe the deepest evil lurked inside something so beautiful! |
| Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment.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.Come, cords, come, nurse; I’ll to my wedding-bed;And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! | juliet |
| As if that name,Shot from the deadly level of a gun,Did murder her; as that name’s cursed handMurder’d her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,In what vile part of this anatomyDoth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sackThe hateful mansion.—–Hold thy desperate hand:Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote | romeo and friarmeaning:Oh, he’s acting just like Juliet, just like her. Oh painful sympathy! What a pitiful problem! She’s lying on the ground just like him, blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up. Stand up. Stand up if you’re really a man. For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand up. Why should you fall into so deep a moan? |
| 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?We’ll keep no great ado,–a friend or two;For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,It may be thought we held him carelessly,Being our kinsman, if we revel much:Therefore we’ll have some half a dozen friends,And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? | capulet |
| 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. | julietmeaning:Oh God, I have a soul that predicts evil things! Now that you are down there, you look like someone dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight is failing me, or you look pale. |
| And yet ‘not proud,’ mistress minion, you,Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,But fettle your fine joints ‘gainst Thursday next,To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!You tallow-face!LADY CAPULET Fie, fie! what, are you mad?JULIET Good father, I beseech you on my knees,Hear me with patience but to speak a word.CAPULET Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!I tell thee what: get thee to church o’ Thursday,Or never after look me in the face:Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blestThat God had lent us but this only child;But now I see this one is one too much,And that we have a curse in having her: | capulet |
| I’ll to the friar, to know his remedy:If all else fail, myself have power to die. | juliet |
| Tell me not, friar, that thou hear’st of this,Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,Do thou but call my resolution wise,And with this knife I’ll help it presently.God join’d my heart and Romeo’s, thou our hands;And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal’d,Shall be the label to another deed,Or my true heart with treacherous revoltTurn to another, this shall slay them both:Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,Give me some present counsel, or, behold,’Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knifeShall play the umpire, arbitrating thatWhich the commission of thy years and artCould to no issue of true honour bring.Be not so long to speak; I long to die,If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy. | juliet |
| Where I have learn’d me to repent the sinOf disobedient oppositionTo you and your behests, and am enjoin’dBy holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. | juliet |
| Death lies on her like an untimely frostUpon the sweetest flower of all the field. | capuletmeaning:She’s dead, like a beautiful flower, killed by an unseasonable frost. |
| Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!Thou know’st my lodging: get me ink and paper,And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.—-I do beseech you, sir, have patience:Your looks are pale and wild, and do import some misadventure | romeo and balthasar |
| Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,And fear’st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;The world is not thy friend nor the world’s law;The world affords no law to make thee rich;Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.—–My poverty, but not my will, consents. | romeo and apothecary |
| A lightning before death: O, how may ICall this a lightning? O my love! my wife!Death, that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath,Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:Thou art not conquer’d; beauty’s ensign yetIs crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, | romeo |
| A greater power than we can contradictHath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. | friarmeaning:. A greater power than we can fight has ruined our plan. Come, come away |
| Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. | prince |
Romeo and Juliet123
August 26, 2019