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twg_000000025800 | shed Tybalts blood? NURSE. It did, it did; alas the day, it did. JULIET. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical, Dove-featherd raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seemst, A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025801 | thou to do in hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever ontaining such vile matter So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace. NURSE. Theres no trust, No faith, no honesty in men. All perjurd, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. Ah, wheres | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025802 | my man? Give me some aqua vitae. These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo. JULIET. Blisterd be thy tongue For such a wish! He was not born to shame. Upon his brow shame is ashamd to sit; For tis a throne where honour may be crownd Sole monarch of the universal earth. O, what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025803 | a beast was I to chide at him! NURSE. Will you speak well of him that killd your cousin? JULIET. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I thy three-hours wife have mangled it? But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025804 | have killd my husband. Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring, Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you mistaking offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain, And Tybalts dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalts death, That murderd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025805 | me. I would forget it fain, But O, it presses to my memory Like damned guilty deeds to sinners minds. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished. That banished, that one word banished, Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalts death Was woe enough, if it had ended there. Or if sour woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rankd with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025806 | other griefs, Why followd not, when she said Tybalts dead, Thy father or thy mother, nay or both, Which modern lamentation might have movd? But with a rear-ward following Tybalts death, Romeo is banishedto speak that word Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. Romeo is banished, There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025807 | words death, no words can that woe sound. Where is my father and my mother, Nurse? NURSE. Weeping and wailing over Tybalts corse. Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. JULIET. Wash they his wounds with tears. Mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeos banishment. Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguild, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025808 | Both you and I; for Romeo is exild. He made you for a highway to my bed, But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come cords, come Nurse, Ill to my wedding bed, And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead. NURSE. Hie to your chamber. Ill find Romeo To comfort you. I wot well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025809 | will be here at night. Ill to him, he is hid at Lawrence cell. JULIET. O find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Friar Lawrences cell. Enter Friar Lawrence. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. Affliction is enanmourd of thy parts And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025810 | thou art wedded to calamity. Enter Romeo. ROMEO. Father, what news? What is the Princes doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not? FRIAR LAWRENCE. Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company. I bring thee tidings of the Princes doom. ROMEO. What less than doomsday is the Princes doom? FRIAR LAWRENCE. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025811 | gentler judgment vanishd from his lips, Not bodys death, but bodys banishment. ROMEO. Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say death; For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death. Do not say banishment. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hence from Verona art thou banished. Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. ROMEO. There is no world without Verona walls, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025812 | But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence banished is banishd from the world, And worlds exile is death. Then banished Is death mistermd. Calling death banished, Thou cuttst my head off with a golden axe, And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. FRIAR LAWRENCE. O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025813 | Taking thy part, hath brushd aside the law, And turnd that black word death to banishment. This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. ROMEO. Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog, And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025814 | not. More validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliets hand, And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. But Romeo may not, he is banished. This may flies do, when I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025815 | from this must fly. They are free men but I am banished. And sayst thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mixd, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though neer so mean, But banished to kill me? Banished? O Friar, the damned use that word in hell. Howling attends it. How hast thou the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025816 | heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professd, To mangle me with that word banished? FRIAR LAWRENCE. Thou fond mad man, hear me speak a little, ROMEO. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Ill give thee armour to keep off that word, Adversitys sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025817 | banished. ROMEO. Yet banished? Hang up philosophy. Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a Princes doom, It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. FRIAR LAWRENCE. O, then I see that mad men have no ears. ROMEO. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? FRIAR LAWRENCE. Let me dispute with thee of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025818 | thy estate. ROMEO. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025819 | grave. [_Knocking within._] FRIAR LAWRENCE. Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself. ROMEO. Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. [_Knocking._] FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hark, how they knock!Whos there?Romeo, arise, Thou wilt be taken.Stay awhile.Stand up. [_Knocking._] Run to my study.By-and-by.Gods will, What simpleness is this.I come, I come. [_Knocking._] Who knocks | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025820 | so hard? Whence come you, whats your will? NURSE. [_Within._] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. I come from Lady Juliet. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Welcome then. Enter Nurse. NURSE. O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar, Where is my ladys lord, wheres Romeo? FRIAR LAWRENCE. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. NURSE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025821 | O, he is even in my mistress case. Just in her case! O woeful sympathy! Piteous predicament. Even so lies she, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man. For Juliets sake, for her sake, rise and stand. Why should you fall into so deep an O? ROMEO. Nurse. NURSE. Ah sir, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025822 | ah sir, deaths the end of all. ROMEO. Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her? Doth not she think me an old murderer, Now I have staind the childhood of our joy With blood removd but little from her own? Where is she? And how doth she? And what says My conceald lady to our cancelld love? NURSE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025823 | O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again. ROMEO. As if that name, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her, as that names cursed hand Murderd her kinsman. O, tell me, Friar, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025824 | tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion. [_Drawing his sword._] FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold thy desperate hand. Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast. Unseemly woman in a seeming | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025825 | man, And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! Thou hast amazd me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better temperd. Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? And slay thy lady, that in thy life lives, By doing damned hate upon thyself? Why railst thou on thy birth, the heaven and earth? Since birth, and heaven and earth, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025826 | all three do meet In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. Fie, fie, thou shamst thy shape, thy love, thy wit, Which, like a usurer, aboundst in all, And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Digressing from the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025827 | valour of a man; Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vowd to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skilless soldiers flask, Is set afire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismemberd with thine own defence. What, rouse thee, man. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025828 | Thy Juliet is alive, For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead. There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slewst Tybalt; there art thou happy. The law that threatend death becomes thy friend, And turns it to exile; there art thou happy. A pack of blessings light upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025829 | array; But like a misshaped and sullen wench, Thou puttst up thy Fortune and thy love. Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Go, get thee to thy love as was decreed, Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her. But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; Where thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025830 | shalt live till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou wentst forth in lamentation. Go before, Nurse. Commend me to thy lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heavy sorrow makes them apt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025831 | unto. Romeo is coming. NURSE. O Lord, I could have stayd here all the night To hear good counsel. O, what learning is! My lord, Ill tell my lady you will come. ROMEO. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. NURSE. Here sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir. Hie you, make haste, for it grows | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025832 | very late. [_Exit._] ROMEO. How well my comfort is revivd by this. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Go hence, good night, and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the watch be set, Or by the break of day disguisd from hence. Sojourn in Mantua. Ill find out your man, And he shall signify from time to time Every good hap | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025833 | to you that chances here. Give me thy hand; tis late; farewell; good night. ROMEO. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. A Room in Capulets House. Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and Paris. CAPULET. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily That we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025834 | have had no time to move our daughter. Look you, she lovd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I. Well, we were born to die. Tis very late; shell not come down tonight. I promise you, but for your company, I would have been abed an hour ago. PARIS. These times of woe afford no tune to woo. Madam, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025835 | good night. Commend me to your daughter. LADY CAPULET. I will, and know her mind early tomorrow; Tonight shes mewd up to her heaviness. CAPULET. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my childs love. I think she will be ruld In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025836 | you go to bed, Acquaint her here of my son Paris love, And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next, But, soft, what day is this? PARIS. Monday, my lord. CAPULET. Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, A Thursday let it be; a Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl. Will you be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025837 | ready? Do you like this haste? Well keep no great ado,a friend or two, For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be thought we held him carelessly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much. Therefore well have some half a dozen friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? PARIS. My lord, I would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025838 | that Thursday were tomorrow. CAPULET. Well, get you gone. A Thursday be it then. Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. Farewell, my lord.Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me, it is so very very late that we May call it early by and by. Good night. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. An | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025839 | open Gallery to Juliets Chamber, overlooking the Garden. Enter Romeo and Juliet. JULIET. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That piercd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. ROMEO. It was the lark, the herald | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025840 | of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Nights candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. JULIET. Yond light is not daylight, I know it, I. It is some meteor that the sun | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025841 | exhales To be to thee this night a torchbearer And light thee on thy way to Mantua. Therefore stay yet, thou needst not to be gone. ROMEO. Let me be taen, let me be put to death, I am content, so thou wilt have it so. Ill say yon grey is not the mornings eye, Tis but the pale reflex | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025842 | of Cynthias brow. Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. I have more care to stay than will to go. Come, death, and welcome. Juliet wills it so. How ist, my soul? Lets talk. It is not day. JULIET. It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away. It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025843 | is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us. Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes. O, now I would they had changd voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025844 | with hunts-up to the day. O now be gone, more light and light it grows. ROMEO. More light and light, more dark and dark our woes. Enter Nurse. NURSE. Madam. JULIET. Nurse? NURSE. Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. The day is broke, be wary, look about. [_Exit._] JULIET. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025845 | ROMEO. Farewell, farewell, one kiss, and Ill descend. [_Descends._] JULIET. Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend, I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days. O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo. ROMEO. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025846 | That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. JULIET. O thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? ROMEO. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come. JULIET. O God! I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, As one dead in the bottom of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025847 | a tomb. Either my eyesight fails, or thou lookst pale. ROMEO. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu. [_Exit below._] JULIET. O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee fickle, If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renownd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune; For then, I hope | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025848 | thou wilt not keep him long But send him back. LADY CAPULET. [_Within._] Ho, daughter, are you up? JULIET. Who ist that calls? Is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustomd cause procures her hither? Enter Lady Capulet. LADY CAPULET. Why, how now, Juliet? JULIET. Madam, I am not well. LADY | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025849 | CAPULET. Evermore weeping for your cousins death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. Therefore have done: some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit. JULIET. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. LADY CAPULET. So shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025850 | you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for. JULIET. Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. LADY CAPULET. Well, girl, thou weepst not so much for his death As that the villain lives which slaughterd him. JULIET. What villain, madam? LADY CAPULET. That same villain Romeo. JULIET. Villain and he be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025851 | many miles asunder. God pardon him. I do, with all my heart. And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. LADY CAPULET. That is because the traitor murderer lives. JULIET. Ay madam, from the reach of these my hands. Would none but I might venge my cousins death. LADY CAPULET. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025852 | not. Then weep no more. Ill send to one in Mantua, Where that same banishd runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustomd dram That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied. JULIET. Indeed I never shall be satisfied With Romeo till I behold himdead Is my poor heart so for a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025853 | kinsman vexd. Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poison, I would temper it, That Romeo should upon receipt thereof, Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors To hear him namd, and cannot come to him, To wreak the love I bore my cousin Upon his body that hath slaughterd him. LADY CAPULET. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025854 | Find thou the means, and Ill find such a man. But now Ill tell thee joyful tidings, girl. JULIET. And joy comes well in such a needy time. What are they, I beseech your ladyship? LADY CAPULET. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; One who to put thee from thy heaviness, Hath sorted out a sudden day of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025855 | joy, That thou expects not, nor I lookd not for. JULIET. Madam, in happy time, what day is that? LADY CAPULET. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peters Church, Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. JULIET. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too, He shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025856 | not make me there a joyful bride. I wonder at this haste, that I must wed Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris. These are news | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025857 | indeed. LADY CAPULET. Here comes your father, tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands. Enter Capulet and Nurse. CAPULET. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brothers son It rains downright. How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears? Evermore showering? In one little | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025858 | body Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood, the winds, thy sighs, Who raging with thy tears and they with them, Without a sudden calm will overset Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025859 | Have you deliverd to her our decree? LADY CAPULET. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. I would the fool were married to her grave. CAPULET. Soft. Take me with you, take me with you, wife. How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest, Unworthy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025860 | as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? JULIET. Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate; But thankful even for hate that is meant love. CAPULET. How now, how now, choppd logic? What is this? Proud, and, I thank you, and I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025861 | thank you not; And yet not proud. Mistress minion you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints gainst Thursday next To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage! You tallow-face! LADY CAPULET. Fie, fie! What, are you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025862 | mad? JULIET. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word. CAPULET. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch! I tell thee what,get thee to church a Thursday, Or never after look me in the face. Speak not, reply not, do not answer me. My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025863 | That God had lent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her. Out on her, hilding. NURSE. God in heaven bless her. You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. CAPULET. And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025864 | with your gossips, go. NURSE. I speak no treason. CAPULET. O God ye good-en! NURSE. May not one speak? CAPULET. Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity oer a gossips bowl, For here we need it not. LADY CAPULET. You are too hot. CAPULET. Gods bread, it makes me mad! Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play, Alone, in company, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025865 | still my care hath been To have her matchd, and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly allied, Stuffd, as they say, with honourable parts, Proportiond as ones thought would wish a man, And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender, To answer, Ill not wed, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025866 | I cannot love, I am too young, I pray you pardon me. But, and you will not wed, Ill pardon you. Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. Look tot, think ont, I do not use to jest. Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. And you be mine, Ill give you to my friend; And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025867 | you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, For by my soul, Ill neer acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. Trust tot, bethink you, Ill not be forsworn. [_Exit._] JULIET. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025868 | away, Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. LADY CAPULET. Talk not to me, for Ill not speak a word. Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [_Exit._] JULIET. O God! O Nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025869 | is on earth, my faith in heaven. How shall that faith return again to earth, Unless that husband send it me from heaven By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems Upon so soft a subject as myself. What sayst thou? Hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, Nurse. NURSE. Faith, here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025870 | it is. Romeo is banished; and all the world to nothing That he dares neer come back to challenge you. Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the County. O, hes a lovely gentleman. Romeos a dishclout to him. An | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025871 | eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead, or twere as good he were, As living here and you no use of him. JULIET. Speakest thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025872 | from thy heart? NURSE. And from my soul too, Or else beshrew them both. JULIET. Amen. NURSE. What? JULIET. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeasd my father, to Lawrence cell, To make confession and to be absolvd. NURSE. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [_Exit._] JULIET. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025873 | Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath praisd him with above compare So many thousand times? Go, counsellor. Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. Ill to the Friar to know his remedy. If all else fail, myself have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025874 | power to die. [_Exit._] ACT IV SCENE I. Friar Lawrences Cell. Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris. FRIAR LAWRENCE. On Thursday, sir? The time is very short. PARIS. My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE. You say you do not know the ladys mind. Uneven is the course; I like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025875 | it not. PARIS. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalts death, And therefore have I little talkd of love; For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she do give her sorrow so much sway; And in his wisdom, hastes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too much minded | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025876 | by herself alone, May be put from her by society. Now do you know the reason of this haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE. [_Aside._] I would I knew not why it should be slowd. Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. Enter Juliet. PARIS. Happily met, my lady and my wife! JULIET. That may be, sir, when I may be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025877 | a wife. PARIS. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next. JULIET. What must be shall be. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Thats a certain text. PARIS. Come you to make confession to this father? JULIET. To answer that, I should confess to you. PARIS. Do not deny to him that you love me. JULIET. I will confess to you that I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025878 | love him. PARIS. So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. JULIET. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back than to your face. PARIS. Poor soul, thy face is much abusd with tears. JULIET. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough before their spite. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025879 | PARIS. Thou wrongst it more than tears with that report. JULIET. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to my face. PARIS. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slanderd it. JULIET. It may be so, for it is not mine own. Are you at leisure, holy father, now, Or shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025880 | I come to you at evening mass? FRIAR LAWRENCE. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. My lord, we must entreat the time alone. PARIS. God shield I should disturb devotion! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye, Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. [_Exit._] JULIET. O shut the door, and when thou hast done so, Come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025881 | weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help! FRIAR LAWRENCE. O Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits. I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this County. JULIET. Tell me not, Friar, that thou hearst of this, Unless thou tell me how I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025882 | may prevent it. If in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife Ill help it presently. God joind my heart and Romeos, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeos seald, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025883 | to another, this shall slay them both. Therefore, out of thy long-experiencd time, Give me some present counsel, or behold Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the empire, 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025884 | If what thou speakst speak not of remedy. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope, Which craves as desperate an execution As that is desperate which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry County Paris Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, Then is it likely thou wilt undertake A thing like death | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025885 | to chide away this shame, That copst with death himself to scape from it. And if thou darst, Ill give thee remedy. JULIET. 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 hide me nightly in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025886 | a charnel-house, Oer-coverd quite with dead mens 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 unstaind wife to my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025887 | sweet love. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow; Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone, Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off, When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025888 | and drowsy humour; for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease. No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest, The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes; thy eyes windows fall, Like death when he shuts up the day of life. Each part deprivd of supple government, Shall stiff and stark and cold appear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025889 | like death. And in this borrowd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. Then as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes, uncoverd, on the bier, Thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025890 | shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. In the meantime, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, And hither shall he come, and he and I Will watch thy waking, and that very night Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. And this shall free thee | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025891 | from this present shame, If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear Abate thy valour in the acting it. JULIET. Give me, give me! O tell not me of fear! FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resolve. Ill send a friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. JULIET. Love give me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025892 | strength, and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Hall in Capulets House. Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse and Servants. CAPULET. So many guests invite as here are writ. [_Exit first Servant._] Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. SECOND SERVANT. You shall have none ill, sir; for Ill try if they can lick their fingers. CAPULET. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025893 | How canst thou try them so? SECOND SERVANT. Marry, sir, tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers; therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. CAPULET. Go, begone. [_Exit second Servant._] We shall be much unfurnishd for this time. What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence? NURSE. Ay, forsooth. CAPULET. Well, he may | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025894 | chance to do some good on her. A peevish self-willd harlotry it is. Enter Juliet. NURSE. See where she comes from shrift with merry look. CAPULET. How now, my headstrong. Where have you been gadding? JULIET. Where I have learnt me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests; and am enjoind By holy Lawrence to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025895 | fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you. Henceforward I am ever ruld by you. CAPULET. Send for the County, go tell him of this. Ill have this knot knit up tomorrow morning. JULIET. I met the youthful lord at Lawrence cell, And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping oer the bounds of modesty. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025896 | CAPULET. Why, I am glad ont. This is well. Stand up. This is ast should be. Let me see the County. Ay, marry. Go, I say, and fetch him hither. Now afore God, this reverend holy Friar, All our whole city is much bound to him. JULIET. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, To help me sort | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025897 | such needful ornaments As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow? LADY CAPULET. No, not till Thursday. There is time enough. CAPULET. Go, Nurse, go with her. Well to church tomorrow. [_Exeunt Juliet and Nurse._] LADY CAPULET. We shall be short in our provision, Tis now near night. CAPULET. Tush, I will stir about, And all things shall be well, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025898 | I warrant thee, wife. Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her. Ill not to bed tonight, let me alone. Ill play the housewife for this once.What, ho! They are all forth: well, I will walk myself To County Paris, to prepare him up Against tomorrow. My heart is wondrous light Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimd. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025899 | [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Juliets Chamber. Enter Juliet and Nurse. JULIET. Ay, those attires are best. But, gentle Nurse, I pray thee leave me to myself tonight; For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou knowst, is cross and full of sin. Enter Lady Capulet. LADY CAPULET. What, are you | 60 | gutenberg |
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