A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
These violent delights have violent ends.
You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Mercutio: "If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.
Hannakins: I know you guys are living out your own private Romeo and Juliet love story, but remember: Both of them die in Act V. -A
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
