CAPULET.

I have seen the day, that I have worn a visor, and could tell a whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, such as would please.

ROMEO.

Act 1, Sc. 5, l. 21.

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!

You kiss by the book.

Act 1, Sc. 5, l. 44.

JULIET.

Act 1, Sc. 5, l. 106.

ROMEO.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

ROMEO.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 1.

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

JULIET.

Act 2, Sc. 2, 1. 24.

What's in a name? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet.

ROMEO.

Act 2, Sc. 2, 1. 43.

Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords.

ROMEO.

I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 71.

As that vast shore washed by the farthest sea,

I would adventure for such merchandise.

Act 2, Sc. 2, 1. 82.

JULIET.

At lovers' perjuries, they say, Jove laughs.

JULIET.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 92.

O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

JULIET.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 109.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

ROMEO.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 133.

All this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Love

ROMEO.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 140.

goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books;

But love from love, toward school with heavy

looks.

Sleep dwell

breast!

ROMEO.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 156.

upon thine eyes, peace in thy

'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!

FRIAR.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 187.

For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give.

Act 2, Sc. 3, l. 17.

FRIAR.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometime's by action dignified.

MERCUTIO.

Act 2, Sc. 3, 1. 22.

Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

MERCUTIO.

Act 2, Sc. 4, l. 53.

A plague o' both the houses! I am sped.

MERCUTIO.

Act 3, Sc. 1, l. 84.

No, 't is not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 't is enough, 't will serve.

JULIET.

Act 3, Sc. 1, l. 90.

O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!

JULIET.

Act 3, Sc. 2, l. 73.

O nature! what hadst thou to do in hell
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?

FRIAR.

Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.

ROMEO.

Act 3, Sc. 2, l. 80.

Act 3, Sc. 3, 1. 2.

Banished? O friar! the damned use that word

in hell;

Howling attends it.

Act 3, Sc. 3, 1. 46.

FRIAR.

Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.

ROMEO.

Act 3, Sc. 3, l. 55.

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.

CAPULET.

Act 3, Sc. 5, 1. 7.

Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

ROMEO.

Act 4, Sc. 5, 1. 27.

My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

ROMEO.

Act 5, Sc. 1, l. 3.

Famine is in thy cheeks,

Need and oppression stareth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.

Act 5, Sc. 1, l. 69.

Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

Act 5, Sc. 3, l. 91.

ROMEO.

Here, here will I remain

With worms that are thy chambermaids; O!

here

Will I set up my everlasting rest,

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.-

last!

Eyes, look your

Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you,
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love! O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick.

Thus with a kiss I die.

Act 5, Sc. 3, l. 108.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

POET.

When we for recompense have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.

Act 1, Sc. 1, l. 15.