A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

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romantic_story
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Re: A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

Unread post by romantic_story » 25 Sep 2015 21:36

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 o' 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 bles'd 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 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 o'er a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not.
Lady Capulet. You are too hot.
Capulet. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, night, hour, time, tide, work, play, Alone, in company, still my
care hath been To have her match'd, and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair
demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, Proportion'd as one's heart
would wish a man,-- And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, To
answer, 'I'll not wed,--I cannot love, I am too young,--I pray you pardon me:'-- But, an you will not wed, I'll
pardon you: Graze where you will, you shall not house with me: Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; An you be not, hang,
beg, starve, die i' the streets, For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee
good: Trust to't, bethink you, I'll 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 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 I'll 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 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
say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, nurse.
Nurse. Faith, here 'tis; Romeo Is banished; 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. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it
best you married with the county. O, he's a lovely gentleman! Romeo's a dishclout to him; an 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.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 45
Juliet. Speakest thou this 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 displeas'd
my father, to Lawrence' cell, To make confession and to be absolv'd.
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
[Exit.]
Juliet. 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 prais'd him with above compare So many thousand times?--Go,
counsellor; Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-- I'll to the friar to know his remedy; If all else fail,
myself have power to die.
[Exit.]
ACT IV.
Scene I. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.]
Friar. 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. You say you do not know the lady's mind: Uneven is the course; I like it not.
Paris. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd 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 by
herself alone, May be put from her by society: Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Friar. [Aside.] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.-- 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 a wife.
Paris. That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.
Juliet. What must be shall be.
Friar. That's a certain text.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 46
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 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 abus'd with tears.
Juliet. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough before their spite.
Paris. Thou wrong'st 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 slander'd it.
Juliet. It may be so, for it is not mine own.-- Are you at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at
evening mass?
Friar. 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 you: Till then, adieu; and
keep this holy kiss.
[Exit.]
Juliet. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!
Friar. Ah, 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 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's 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-experienc'd 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, If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
Friar. 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 to chide away this shame, That cop'st with death
himself to scape from it; And, if thou dar'st, I'll 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 shut me nightly in a charnel-house,

romantic_story
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Re: A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

Unread post by romantic_story » 25 Sep 2015 21:36

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.
Friar. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow; To-morrow
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 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, depriv'd of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear
like death: And in this borrow'd 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, uncover'd, on the bier, Thou
shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. In the mean time, 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 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. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed To Mantua,
with my letters to thy lord.
Juliet. Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. Hall in Capulet's 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.
2 Servant. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.
Capulet. How canst thou try them so?
2 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 unfurnish'd for this time.-- What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence?
Nurse. Ay, forsooth.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 48
Capulet. Well, be may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
Nurse. See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
[Enter Juliet.]
Capulet. How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?
Juliet. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests; and am
enjoin'd By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon:--pardon, I beseech you! Henceforward I
am ever rul'd by you.
Capulet. Send for the county; go tell him of this: I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Juliet. I met the youthful lord at Lawrence' cell; And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping o'er
the bounds of modesty.
Capulet. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,--stand up,-- This is as't 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 such needful ornaments As you think fit to
furnish me to-morrow?
Lady Capulet. No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.
Capulet. Go, nurse, go with her.--We'll to church to-morrow.
[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, I warrant thee, wife: Go thou to Juliet, help to
deck up her; I'll not to bed to-night;--let me alone; I'll 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 to-morrow: my heart is
wondrous light Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.
[Exeunt.]
Scene III. Juliet's Chamber.
[Enter Juliet and Nurse.]
Juliet. Ay, those attires are best:--but, gentle nurse, I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night; For I have need of
many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
[Enter Lady Capulet.]
Lady Capulet. What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?
Juliet. 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, And let the nurse this night sit up with you; For I am sure you have your hands full
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 49
all In this so sudden business.
Lady Capulet. Good night: Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.]
Juliet. Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins That
almost freezes up the heat of life: I'll call them back again to comfort me;-- Nurse!--What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.-- Come, vial.-- What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be
married, then, to-morrow morning?-- No, No!--this shall forbid it:--lie thou there.--
[Laying down her dagger.]
What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should
be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo? I fear it is: and yet methinks it should not, For he
hath still been tried a holy man:-- I will not entertain so bad a thought.-- How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! Shall I not then be stifled in
the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,--
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for this many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors
are pack'd; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At
some hours in the night spirits resort;-- Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking,--what with
loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run
mad;-- O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears? And madly play with my
forefathers' joints? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? And, in this rage, with some great
kinsman's bone, As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?-- O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier's point:--stay, Tybalt, stay!-- Romeo, I come! this do
I drink to thee.
[Throws herself on the bed.]
Scene IV. Hall in Capulet's House.
[Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.]
Lady Capulet. Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse.
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
[Enter Capulet.]
Capulet. Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow'd, The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:--
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica; Spare not for cost.
Nurse. Go, you cot-quean, go, Get you to bed; faith, you'll be sick to-morrow For this night's watching.
Capulet. No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.
Lady Capulet. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; But I will watch you from such watching now.
[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.]

romantic_story
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Re: A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

Unread post by romantic_story » 25 Sep 2015 21:37

Capulet. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!--Now, fellow,
[Enter Servants, with spits, logs and baskets.]
What's there?
1 Servant. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.
Capulet. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Servant.] --Sirrah, fetch drier logs: Call Peter, he will show thee
where they are.
2 Servant. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs And never trouble Peter for the matter.
[Exit.]
Capulet. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head.--Good faith, 'tis day. The
county will be here with music straight, For so he said he would:--I hear him near. [Music within.]
Nurse!--wife!--what, ho!--what, nurse, I say!
[Re-enter Nurse.]
Go, waken Juliet; go and trim her up; I'll go and chat with Paris:--hie, make haste, Make haste; the
bridegroom he is come already: Make haste, I say.
[Exeunt.]
Scene V. Juliet's Chamber; Juliet on the bed.
[Enter Nurse.]
Nurse. Mistress!--what, mistress!--Juliet!--fast, I warrant her, she:-- Why, lamb!--why, lady!--fie, you
slug-abed!-- Why, love, I say!--madam! sweetheart!--why, bride!-- What, not a word?--you take your
pennyworths now; Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, The County Paris hath set up his rest That
you shall rest but little.--God forgive me! Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! I needs must wake
her.--Madam, madam, madam!-- Ay, let the county take you in your bed; He'll fright you up, i' faith.--Will it
not be? What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again! I must needs wake you.--lady! lady! lady!-- Alas,
alas!--Help, help! My lady's dead!-- O, well-a-day that ever I was born!-- Some aqua-vitae, ho!--my lord! my
lady!
[Enter Lady Capulet.]
Lady Capulet What noise is here?
Nurse. O lamentable day!
Lady Capulet. What is the matter?
Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day!
Lady Capulet. O me, O me!--my child, my only life! Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!-- Help,
help!--call help.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 51
[Enter Capulet.]
Capulet. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!
Lady Capulet Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!
Capulet. Ha! let me see her:--out alas! she's cold; Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these
lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the
field. Accursed time! unfortunate old man!
Nurse. O lamentable day!
Lady Capulet. O woful time!
Capulet. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak.
[Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris, with Musicians.]
Friar. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Capulet. Ready to go, but never to return:-- O son, the night before thy wedding day Hath death lain with thy
bride:--there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; My
daughter he hath wedded: I will die. And leave him all; life, living, all is death's.
Paris. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
Lady Capulet. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Most miserable hour that e'er time saw In lasting
labour of his pilgrimage! But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!
Nurse. 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!
Paris. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruel cruel thee
quite overthrown!-- O love! O life!--not life, but love in death!
Capulet. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-- Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murder,
murder our solemnity?-- O child! O child!--my soul, and not my child!-- Dead art thou, dead!--alack, my child
is dead; And with my child my joys are buried!
Friar. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Had part in
this fair maid; now heaven hath all, And all the better is it for the maid: Your part in her you could not keep
from death; But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. The most you sought was her promotion; For 'twas your
heaven she should be advanc'd: And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd Above the clouds, as high as heaven
itself? O, in this love, you love your child so ill That you run mad, seeing that she is well: She's not well
married that lives married long: But she's best married that dies married young. Dry up your tears, and stick
your rosemary On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church; For though
fond nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 52
Capulet. 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.
Friar. Sir, go you in,--and, madam, go with him;-- And go, Sir Paris;--every one prepare To follow this fair
corse unto her grave: The heavens do lower upon you for some ill; Move them no more by crossing their high
will.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.]
1 Musician. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up; For well you know this is a pitiful case.
[Exit.]
1 Musician. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
[Enter Peter.]
Peter. Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease,' 'Heart's ease': O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'
1 Musician. Why 'Heart's ease'?
Peter. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full of woe': O, play me some merry dump to
comfort me.
1 Musician. Not a dump we: 'tis no time to play now.
Peter. You will not then?
1 Musician. No.
Peter. I will then give it you soundly.
1 Musician. What will you give us?
Peter. No money, on my faith; but the gleek,--I will give you the minstrel.
1 Musician. Then will I give you the serving-creature.
Peter. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa
you: do you note me?
1 Musician. An you re us and fa us, you note us.
2 Musician. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
Peter. Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron
dagger.--Answer me like men:
'When griping grief the heart doth wound, And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music with her silver

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