fiction-about-poisonings

"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 revolt Turn 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 knife Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that Which the commission of thy years and art Could 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."

"Her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light. Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd."

"He was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth."

"Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?"

"If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: 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."

"There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell: I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none."

"For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back."

"There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all are perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers."

"Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate-tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale."

"Villain and he be many miles asunder."

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

"All things that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral: Our instruments to melancholy bells; Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary."

"I do remember an apothecary, And hereabouts a' dwells, which late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks; Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. Noting this penury, to myself I said, An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him."

"The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this."

"Mercutio: Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Romeo: I thought all for the best. Mercutio: Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses!"

"Lady Capulet: I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. Prince: Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? Montague: Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt. Prince: And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the loss of mine: I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body, and attend our will: Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill."

"Every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence."

"O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!"

"They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand."

"Taking the measure of an unmade grave."

"Farewell, farewell, one kiss and I'll descend."

"Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit."

"Hire me twenty cunning cooks."

"I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life."

"O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day! Most lamentable day, most woeful day, That ever, ever, I did yet behold! O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! Never was seen so black a day as this: O woeful day, O woeful day!"

"She's not well married that lives married long, But she's best married that dies married young."

"And her immortal part with angels lives."

"O mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!"

"Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut."

"Let me have A dram of poison; such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins, That the life-weary taker may fall dead, And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb."

"Benvolio: What, art thou hurt? Mercutio: Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough."

"Romeo: Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mercutio: No, '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. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses!"

"This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman: O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!"

"O, I am fortune's fool!"

"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 fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun."

"So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them."

"O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign, end motion here, And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!"

"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! ... A damned saint, an honourable villain!"

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

"O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!"

"'Banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?"

"Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy."

"It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: 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: I must be gone and live, or stay and die."

"It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps."

"All these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come."

"O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle."

"O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that to hear them told, have made me tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt. To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love."

"Thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, deprived of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death."

"Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty."

"How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death."