| Part, fools! Put up your swords. You know not what you do | Benvolio |
| What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, benvolio; look upon thy death | tybalt |
| I do but keep my peace. Put up thy sword or manage to part these men with me. | benvolio |
| What, drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word. As I hate hell, all montagues, and thee. Have at thee coward! | tybalt |
| What noise is this? Give me my longsword ho! | capulet |
| A crutch, a crutch, why call you for a sword? | lady capulet |
| My sword I say. Old montague is come. And flourishes his blade in spite of me. | capulet |
| Thou villain Capulet!- Hold me not; let me go. | montague |
| Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. | Lady Montague |
| Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,Profaners of this neighbor-stainèd steel!—Will they not hear?—What, ho! You men, you beasts,That quench the fire of your pernicious rageWith purple fountains issuing from your veins,On pain of torture, from those bloody handsThrow your mistempered weapons to the ground,And hear the sentence of your movèd prince.Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streetsAnd made Verona’s ancient citizensCast by their grave-beseeming ornaments,To wield old partisans in hands as old,Cankered with peace, to part your cankered hate.If ever you disturb our streets again,Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.For this time, all the rest depart away.You, Capulet, shall go along with me,And, Montague, come you this afternoonTo know our farther pleasure in this case,To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. | Prince escalus |
| Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? speak nephew, were you here when it began? | montague to benvolio |
| Who tells Montague of how the fight began | benvolio |
| O, where is Romeo? Saw you him today? Right glad I am that he was not at this fray. | Lady Montague |
| A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad,Where, underneath the grove of sycamoreThat westward rooteth from this city side | benvolio |
| So early walking did I see your son.Towards him I made, but he was ‘ware of meAnd stole into the covert of the wood. | benvolio |
| Being one too many by my weary self,Pursued my humor not pursuing his,And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me. | benvolio |
| Many a morning hath he there been seen,With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s dew,Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs. | montague |
| The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,Away from light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself,Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,And makes himself an artificial night. | Montague |
| But he, his own affections’ counselor,Is to himself—I will not say how true,But to himself so secret and so close, | montague |
| It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours? | benvolio |
| Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! | benvolio |
| Here’s much to do with hate but more with love.Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,O anything of nothing first created! | Romeo |
| Why, such is love’s transgression.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pressed | romeo |
| With Cupid’s arrow. She hath Dian’s wit.And, in strong proof of chastity well armedFrom love’s weak childish bow, she lives uncharmed. | Romeo |
| She will not stay the siege of loving terms,Nor bide th’ encounter of assailing eyes,Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.Oh, she is rich in beauty, only poorThat when she dies, with beauty dies her store. | romeo |
| She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,For beauty, starved with her severity,Cuts beauty off from all posterity. | Romeo |
| O, teach me how I should forget to think! | Romeo |
| By giving liberty unto thine eyes.Examine other beauties. | benvolio |
| He that is strucken blind cannot forgetThe precious treasure of his eyesight lost.Show me a mistress that is passing fair;What doth her beauty serve but as a note | romeo |
| But Montague is bound as well as I,In penalty alike. And ’tis not hard, I think,For men so old as we to keep the peace. | capulet |
| Of honorable reckoning are you both.And pity ’tis you lived at odds so long.But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? | paris |
| My child is yet a stranger in the world.She hath not seen the change of fourteen years.Let two more summers wither in their prideEre we may think her ripe to be a bride. | capulet |
| Younger than she are happy mothers made. | paris |
| And too soon marred are those so early made.Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she.She’s the hopeful lady of my earth.But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart.My will to her consent is but a part. | capulet |
| Whereto I have invited many a guestSuch as I love. And you among the store,One more, most welcome, makes my number more.At my poor house look to behold this night | capulet |
| And like her most whose merit most shall be—Which on more view of many, mine, being one,May stand in number, though in reckoning none,Come, go with me. | capulet |
| Go, sirrah, trudge aboutThrough fair Verona. Find those persons outWhose names are written there, and to them sayMy house and welcome on their pleasure stay. | capulet |
| Find them out whose names are written here? It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned in good time! | servingman |
| Tut man, one fire burns out another’s burning.One pain is lessened by another’s anguish.Turn giddy, and be helped by backward turning. | benvolio |
| Not mad, but bound more than a madman is,Shut up in prison, kept without my food,Whipped and tormented and—Good e’en, good fellow. | romeo |
| God ‘i’ good e’en. I pray, sir, can you read? | servingman |
| Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. | romeo |
| Ay, if I know the letters and the language. | romeo |
| “Seigneur Martino and his wife and daughters;County Anselme and his beauteous sisters;The lady widow of Vitruvio; | romeo (reading the letter) |
| and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! | servingman |
| Compare her face with some that I shall show,And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. | benvolio |
| When the devout religion of mine eyeMaintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires,And these, who, often drowned, could never die, | romeo |
| I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown,But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. | romeo |
| Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me. | lady capulet |
| Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year oldI bade her come. What, lamb! What, ladybird!God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet! | nurse |
| This is the matter.—Nurse, give leave awhile,We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again.I have remembered me. Thou’s hear our counsel.Thou know’st my daughter’s of a pretty age. | lady capulet |
| For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall. | nurse |
| Enough of this. I pray thee, hold thy peace. | lady capulet |
| Tell me, daughter Juliet,How stands your disposition to be married? | lady capulet |
| It is an honor that I dream not of. | juliet responding on her thoughts on marriage |
| An honor! Were not I thine only nurse,I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat. | nurse |
| Younger than youHere in Verona, ladies of esteemAre made already mothers. By my count,I was your mother much upon these yearsThat you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. | lady capulet |
| A man, young lady! Lady, such a manAs all the world. Why, he’s a man of wax. | nurse |
| This night you shall behold him at our feast.Read o’er the volume of young Paris’ faceAnd find delight writ there with beauty’s pen. | lady capulet |
| No less? Nay, bigger. Women grow by men. | nurse |
| Speak briefly. Can you like of Paris, love? | lady capulet |
| I’ll look to like if looking liking move.But no more deep will I endart mine eyeThan your consent gives strength to make it fly. | juliet |
| Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait. I beseech you, follow straight. | servingman |
| Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. | nurse |
| We’ll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath,Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper, | benvolio |
| Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling.Being but heavy, I will bear the light. | romeo |
| Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. | mercutio |
| Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoesWith nimble soles. I have a soul of leadSo stakes me to the ground I cannot move. | romeo |
| You are a lover. Borrow Cupid’s wingsAnd soar with them above a common bound. | mercutio |
| I am too sore enpiercèd with his shaftTo soar with his light feathers, and so bound,I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe.Under love’s heavy burden do I sink. | romeo |
| And to sink in it, should you burthen love—Too great oppression for a tender thing. | mercutio |
| Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. | romeo |
| If love be rough with you, be rough with love.Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.—Give me a case to put my visage in!A visor for a visor.—What care IWhat curious eye doth cote deformities?Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. | mercutio |
| Come, knock and enter. And no sooner inBut every man betake him to his legs. | benvolio |
| For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase,I’ll be a candle holder, and look on.The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done. | romeo |
| I mean, sir, in delay.We waste our lights in vain, like lights by day.Take our good meaning, for our judgment sitsFive times in that ere once in our fine wits. | mercutio |
| And we mean well in going to this mask,But ’tis no wit to go. | romeo (its not smart to go to the party) |
| I dreamt a dream tonight. | romeo |
| That dreamers often lie. | mercutio |
| In bed asleep while they do dream things true. | romeo |
| Oh, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. | mercutio |
| queen mab, whats she? | romeo |
| She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comesIn shape no bigger than an agate stoneOn the forefinger of an alderman,Drawn with a team of little atomiOver men’s noses as they lie asleep.Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs,The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,Her traces of the smallest spider’s web,Her collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,Her wagoner a small gray-coated gnat,Not half so big as a round little wormPricked from the lazy finger of a maid. | mercutio |
| Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!Thou talk’st of nothing. | romeo |
| True, I talk of dreams,Which are the children of an idle brain,Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, | mercutio |
| Shall bitterly begin his fearful dateWith this night’s revels, and expire the termOf a despisèd life closed in my breastBy some vile forfeit of untimely death.But he that hath the steerage of my course,Direct my sail. On, lusty gentlemen. | romeo |
| Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you.—Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty,She, I’ll swear, hath corns. Am I come near ye now?— | capulet |
| What, man, ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much.’Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,Some five and twenty years, and then we masked. | capulet |
| Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear,Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.So shows a snowy dove trooping with crowsAs yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. | romeo |
| This, by his voice, should be a Montague.—(to his PAGE) Fetch me my rapier, boy.—What, dares the slaveCome hither, covered with an antic face,To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?Now, by the stock and honor of my kin,To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. | tybalt |
| Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,A villain that is hither come in spiteTo scorn at our solemnity this night. | tybalt |
| And, to say truth, Verona brags of himTo be a virtuous and well-governed youth.I would not for the wealth of all the townHere in my house do him disparagement. | capulet |
| It fits when such a villain is a guest.I’ll not endure him. | tybalt |
| He shall be endured.What, goodman boy! I say, he shall. Go to.Am I the master here, or you? Go to. | capulet |
| You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul,You’ll make a mutiny among my guests.You will set cock-a-hoop. You’ll be the man! | capulet |
| Go to, go to.You are a saucy boy. Is ‘t so, indeed?This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. | capulet |
| Patience perforce with willful choler meetingMakes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.I will withdraw, but this intrusion shallNow seeming sweet, convert to bitterest gall. | tybalt |
| If I profane with my unworthiest handThis holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready standTo smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. | romeo |
| Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,Which mannerly devotion shows in this,For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. | juliet |
| Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? | romeo |
| Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. | juliet |
| O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. | romeo |
| Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake. | juliet |
| Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged. | romeo |
| Then have my lips the sin that they have took. | juliet |
| Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!Give me my sin again. | romeo |
| You kiss by th’ book. | juliet |
| Madam, your mother craves a word with you. | nurse |
| Her mother is the lady of the house,And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous.I nursed her daughter that you talked withal.I tell you, he that can lay hold of herShall have the chinks. | nurse |
| Is she a Capulet?O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt. | romeo |
| Ay, so I fear. The more is my unrest. | romeo |
| Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman? | juliet |
| The son and heir of old Tiberio. | nurse |
| Go ask his name.—If he be married.My grave is like to be my wedding bed. | juliet |
| His name is Romeo, and a Montague,The only son of your great enemy. | nurse |
| 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 loathèd enemy. | juliet |
| nay hes in faith a flower. A very flower | nurse |
Romeo and Juliet Act 1 Quotes
September 9, 2019