All Quotes

"The cannibal has left his lair."

"The Corsican ogre has just landed at the Juan Gulf."

"The tiger has arrived at Gap."

"The monster slept at Grenoble."

"The tyrant has crossed Lyons."

"The usurper was seen sixty leagues from the capital."

"Bonaparte has advanced with great strides, but he will never enter Paris."

"Tomorrow, Napoleon will be under our ramparts."

"The Emperor has arrived at Fontainbleau."

"His Imperial and Royal Majesty entered his palace at the Tuileries last night in the midst of his faithful subjects."

"Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife."

"Sampson: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gregory: That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sampson: 'Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall."

"Sampson: When I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. Gregory: The heads of the maids? Sampson: Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt."

"Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson: I do bite my thumb, sir. Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson: [Aside to to Gregory] Is the law of our side, if I say ay? Gregory: No. Sampson: No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir."

"Gregory, remember thy swashing blow."

"What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee."

"Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate."

"An hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east."

"But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun."

"Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that which, having, makes them short. Benvolio: In love? Romeo: Out— Benvolio: Of love? Romeo: Out of her favour, where I am in love."

"Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!"

"Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine."

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet."

"From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd."

"He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost."

"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 pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride."

"This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more."

"One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish."

"Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow."

"One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun."

"At lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs."

"Romeo: Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down."

"Romeo: I dreat a dream to-night. Mercutio: And so did I. Romeo: Well, what was yours? Mercutio: That dreamers often lie."

"O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep: Her waggon-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 waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid: Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers: And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then he dreams of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage."

"Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing. Mercutio: 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, who wooes, Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south."

"But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail!"

"Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; For you and I are past our dancing days."

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 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 crows."

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

"Romeo: If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Juliet: 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. Romeo: Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo: O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Juliet: Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged. [Kissing her] Juliet: Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. Juliet. You kiss by the book."

"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!"

"Steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks."

"But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Tempering extremities with extreme sweet."

"Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but 'ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove.'"

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound."

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!"

"See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!"

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself."