English 8 Romeo and Juliet Vocabulary

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

Doth with their death bury their parents' strife.

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny.

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny.

Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.

In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think
He told me Paris should have married Juliet:

Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:
So please you, let me now be left alone,

That were some spite: my invocation
Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their
true descent;

But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
O God, she comes!

O, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,

She would be as swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me:

Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,

Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for
the--No; I know it begins with some other
letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of
it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good
to hear it.

And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,

A plague o'
both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
was hurt under your arm.

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the
dial is now upon the prick of noon.