Romeo and Juliet Page #3

---

What satisfaction

canst thou

have to-night?

The exchange of

thy love's faithful

vow for mine.

I gave thee mine

before thou didst

request it:
And yet I

would it were to

give again.

Wouldst thou

withdraw it?

for what

purpose, love?

But to be frank, and

give it thee again.

I hear some noise

within; dear love,

adieu!

Juliet.

Anon, good nurse!

Sweet Montague, be true.

Stay but a little,

I will come again.

O blessed,

blessed night!

I am afeard.

Being in night, all

this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet

to be substantial.

Three words,

dear Romeo, and

good night indeed.

If that thy bent of

love be honourable,

Thy purpose marriage,

send me word

to-morrow, By one

that I'll procure to

come to thee, Where

and what time thou

wilt perform the

rite; And all my

fortunes at thy foot

I'll lay And follow

thee my lord

throughout the world.

So thrive my soul--

A thousand

times good night!

A thousand times

the worse, to want

thy light

Hist! Romeo, hist!

O, for a falconer's

voice, To lure this

tassel-gentle

back again!

Romeo!

My dear?

Romeo!

My dear?

I have forgot why

I did call thee back.

Let me stand here

till thou remember it.

I shall forget,

to have thee still

stand there,

And I'll still

stay, to have thee

still forget,

'Tis almost

morning; I would have

thee gone:
And yet

no further than a

wanton's bird; Who

lets it hop a little

from her hand, Like a

poor prisoner in his

twisted gyves, And

with a silk thread

plucks it back again,

So loving-jealous of

his liberty.

I would I

were thy bird.

Sweet, so would

I:
Yet I should kill

thee with much

cherishing.

Good night,

good night!

parting is such sweet

sorrow, That I shall

say good night

till it be morrow.

Goodnight.

The grey-eyed

morn smiles on the

frowning night,

Chequering the

eastern clouds with

streaks of light,

Now, ere the sun

advance his burning

eye, The day to cheer

and night's dank dew

to dry, I must

up-fill this osier

cage of ours With

baleful weeds and

precious-juiced

flowers.

The earth that's

nature's mother is

her tomb; What is her

burying grave that is

her womb, And from

her womb children of

divers kind We

sucking on her

natural bosom find,

O, mickle is the

powerful grace that

lies In herbs,

plants, stones, and

their true qualities:

Within the infant

rind of this sweet flower

Within the infant

rind of this...

Within the infant

rind of this sweet

flower Poison

hath residence and

medicine power:
For

this, being smelt,

with that part cheers

each part; Being

tasted, slays all

senses with the heart.

Good morrow, father.

Benedicite!

No. no, no.

Young son, it argues

a distemper'd head So

soon to bid good

morrow to thy bed:

Care keeps his watch

in every old man's

eye, And where care

lodges, sleep will

never lie; But where

unbruised youth with

unstuff'd brain Doth

couch his limbs,

there golden sleep

doth reign:

Therefore thy earliness

doth me assure

Thou art up-roused by

some distemperature;

Or if not so, then

here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not

been in bed to-night.

That last is true;

the sweeter rest was mine

God pardon sin!

wast thou with Rosaline?

With Rosaline,

my ghostly father?

no;

I have forgot that name,

and that name's woe.

That's my good son:

but where hast

thou been, then?

Where on a sudden

one hath wounded me,

That's by me wounded:

both our remedies

Within thy help and

holy physic lies:

I bear no hatred,

blessed man, for, lo,

My intercession

likewise steads my foe.

Be plain, good son,

and homely in

thy drift;

Then plainly know

my heart's dear love

is set On the fair

daughter of rich

Capulet:
As mine on

hers, so hers is set

on mine; And all

combined, save what

thou must combine

By holy marriage:

but this I pray, That

thou consent to marry

us to-day.

Holy Saint

Francis, what a

change is here!

Is Rosaline, whom

thou didst love so

dear, So soon forsaken?

young men's love then

lies Not truly in

their hearts, but

in their eyes.

Jesu Maria, what a

deal of brine Hath

wash'd thy sallow

cheeks for Rosaline!

And art thou changed?

pronounce this

sentence then,

Women may fall,

when there's no

strength in men.

Thou chid'st

me oft for

loving Rosaline.

For doting, not

for loving, pupil mine.

And bad'st

me bury love.

Not in a grave,

To lay one in,

another out to have.

I pray thee, chide

not; she whom I love

now Doth grace for

grace and love for

love allow; The

other did not so.

In one respect

I'll thy assistant

be; For this alliance

may so happy prove,

To turn your

households' rancour

to pure love.

The clock struck

nine when I did send

the nurse; In half an

hour she promised

to return.

Perchance she

cannot meet him:

that's not so.

love's heralds should

be thoughts, Which

ten times faster

glide than the

sun's beams,

O God, she comes!

O, she comes!

O honey nurse,

what news?

Hast thou

met with him?

I am a-weary, give

me leave awhile:
Fie,

how my bones ache!

what a jaunt have I had!

Nay, come, I pray

thee, speak; good,

good nurse, speak.

Jesu, what haste?

can you not stay awhile?

Do you not see that

I am out of breath?

How art thou out

of breath, when thou

hast breath To say to

me that thou art out

of breath?

Is thy news

good, or bad?

answer to that; Say

either, and I'll stay

the circumstance:

Let me be satisfied,

is't good or bad?

Your love says,

like an honest

gentleman, and a

courteous, and a

kind, and a handsome,

and, I warrant, a

virtuous,--Where

is your mother?

Where is my mother!

why, she is within;

Where should she be?

How oddly thou repliest!

'Your love says, like

an honest gentleman,

Where is your mother?'

O God's lady dear!

Are you so hot?

marry, come up, I

trow; Henceforward

do your messages yourself.

Oh. Here's such a coil!

come, what says Romeo?

Have you got

leave to go to

church to-morrow?

I have.

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;

Two such opposed foes

encamp them still In

man as well as herbs,

grace and rude will

And where the worser

is predominant

It is she.

And where the worser

is predominant,

Let's go father.

And where

the worser is

predominant, Full

soon the canker death

eats up that plant.

Too swift arrives

as tardy as too slow.

So smile the heavens

upon this holy act,

That after hours with

sorrow chide us not!

Do thou but close

our hands with

holy words, Then

love-devouring death

do what he dare;

(Speaking in Latin)

Amen!

Amen.

Thank you sir.

oh, gold, come

quick, look.

Romeo, the hate I

bear thee can afford

No better term than

this,--thou art

a villain.

Tybalt, the reason

that I have to love

thee Doth much excuse

the appertaining rage

To such a greeting:

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes