The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

Front Cover
 

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 107 - 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 yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Page 62 - Romeo ; and, when he 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.
Page 38 - For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give ; Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime 's by action dignified.
Page 31 - tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head...
Page 34 - Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight: It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens'.
Page 34 - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Page 57 - tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
Page 30 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! 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...
Page 33 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false: at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Page 21 - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind...

Bibliographic information