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Capulet's orchard. Once again we are at Juliet's balcony. |
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Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window |
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Juliet |
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: |
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It was the nightingale, and not the lark, |
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That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; |
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Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: |
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Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. |
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Romeo |
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, |
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No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks |
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Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: |
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Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day |
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Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. |
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I must be gone and live, or stay and die. |
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Juliet |
Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: |
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It is some meteor that the sun exhales, |
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To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, |
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And light thee on thy way to Mantua: |
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Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. |
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Romeo |
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; |
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I am content, so thou wilt have it so. |
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I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, |
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'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; |
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Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat |
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The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: |
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I have more care to stay than will to go: |
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Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. |
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How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day. |
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Juliet |
It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! |
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It is the lark that sings so out of tune, |
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Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. |
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Some say the lark makes sweet division; |
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This doth not so, for she divideth us: |
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Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, |
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O, now I would they had changed voices too! |
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Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, |
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Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, |
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O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. |
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Romeo |
More light and light; more dark and dark our woes! |
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Enter Nurse, to the chamber |
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Nurse |
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: |
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The day is broke; be wary, look about. |
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Juliet |
Then, window, let day in, and let life out. |
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Romeo |
Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. |
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Juliet |
Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! |
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I must hear from thee every day in the hour, |
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For in a minute there are many days: |
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O, by this count I shall be much in years |
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Ere I again behold my Romeo! |
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I will omit no opportunity |
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That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. |
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Juliet |
O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? |
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Romeo |
I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve |
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For sweet discourses in our time to come. |
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Juliet |
O God, I have an ill-divining soul! |
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Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, |
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As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: |
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Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. |
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Romeo |
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: |
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Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! |
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Juliet |
O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: |
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If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him. |
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That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; |
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For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, |
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Lady Capulet |
[Within] Ho, daughter! are you up? |
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Juliet |
Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? |
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Is she not down so late, or up so early? |
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What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? |
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Lady Capulet |
Why, how now, Juliet! |
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Juliet |
Madam, I am not well. |
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Lady Capulet |
Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? |
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What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? |
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An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; |
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Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; |
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But much of grief shows still some want of wit. |
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Juliet |
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. |
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Lady Capulet |
So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend |
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Juliet |
Feeling so the loss, |
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Cannot choose but ever weep the friend. |
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Lady Capulet |
Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, |
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As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. |
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Juliet |
What villain madam? |
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Lady Capulet |
That same villain, Romeo. |
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Juliet |
[Aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- |
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God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart; |
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And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. |
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Lady Capulet |
That is, because the traitor murderer lives. |
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Juliet |
Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands: |
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Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! |
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Lady Capulet |
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: |
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Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, |
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Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, |
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Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, |
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That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: |
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And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. |
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Juliet |
Indeed, I never shall be satisfied |
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With Romeo, till I behold him--dead-- |
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Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd. |
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Madam, if you could find out but a man |
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To bear a poison, I would temper it; |
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That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, |
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Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors |
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To hear him named, and cannot come to him. |
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To wreak the love I bore my cousin |
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Upon his body that slaughter'd him! |
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Lady Capulet |
Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. |
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But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. |
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Juliet |
And joy comes well in such a needy time: |
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What are they, I beseech your ladyship? |
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Lady Capulet |
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; |
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One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, |
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Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, |
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That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for. |
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Juliet |
Madam, in happy time, what day is that? |
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Lady Capulet |
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, |
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The gallant, young and noble gentleman, |
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The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, |
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Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. |
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Juliet |
Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, |
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He shall not make me there a joyful bride. |
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I wonder at this haste; that I must wed |
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Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. |
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I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, |
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I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, |
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It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, |
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Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! |
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Lady Capulet |
Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, |
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And see how he will take it at your hands. |
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Capulet |
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; |
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But for the sunset of my brother's son |
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How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? |
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Evermore showering? In one little body |
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Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; |
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For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, |
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Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, |
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Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; |
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Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, |
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Without a sudden calm, will overset |
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Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! |
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Have you deliver'd to her our decree? |
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Lady Capulet |
Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. |
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I would the fool were married to her grave! |
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Capulet |
Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. |
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How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? |
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Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, |
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Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought |
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So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? |
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Juliet |
Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: |
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Proud can I never be of what I hate; |
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But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. |
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Capulet |
How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this? |
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'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;' |
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And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you, |
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Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds, |
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But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, |
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To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, |
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Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. |
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Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! |
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Lady Capulet |
Fie, fie! what, are you mad? |
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Juliet |
Good father, I beseech you on my knees, |
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Hear me with patience but to speak a word. |
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Capulet |
Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! |
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I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, |
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Or never after look me in the face: |
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Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; |
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My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest |
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That God had lent us but this only child; |
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But now I see this one is one too much, |
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And that we have a curse in having her: |
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Nurse |
God in heaven bless her! |
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You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. |
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Capulet |
And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, |
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Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. |
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Nurse |
I speak no treason. |
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Capulet |
O, God ye god-den. |
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Capulet |
Peace, you mumbling fool! |
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Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl; |
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Lady Capulet |
You are too hot. |
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Capulet |
God's bread! it makes me mad: |
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Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, |
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Alone, in company, still my care hath been |
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To have her match'd: and having now provided |
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A gentleman of noble parentage, |
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Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, |
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Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, |
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Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; |
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And then to have a wretched puling fool, |
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A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, |
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To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love, |
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I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.' |
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But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you: |
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Graze where you will you shall not house with me: |
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Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. |
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Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: |
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An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; |
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And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in |
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For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, |
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Nor what is mine shall never do thee good: |
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Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. |
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Juliet |
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, |
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That sees into the bottom of my grief? |
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O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! |
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Delay this marriage for a month, a week; |
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Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed |
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In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. |
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Lady Capulet |
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: |
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Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. |
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Juliet |
O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented? |
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My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; |
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How shall that faith return again to earth, |
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Unless that husband send it me from heaven |
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By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. |
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Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems |
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Upon so soft a subject as myself! |
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What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? |
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Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, |
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That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; |
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Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. |
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Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, |
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I think it best you married with the county. |
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O, he's a lovely gentleman! |
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Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, |
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Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye |
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As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, |
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I think you are happy in this second match, |
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For it excels your first: or if it did not, |
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Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were, |
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As living here and you no use of him. |
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Juliet |
Speakest thou from thy heart? |
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Nurse |
And from my soul too; |
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Or else beshrew them both. |
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Juliet |
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. |
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Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, |
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Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, |
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To make confession and to be absolved. |
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Nurse |
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. |
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Juliet |
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! |
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Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, |
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Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue |
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Which she hath praised him with above compare |
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So many thousand times? Go, counsellor; |
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Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. |
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I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: |
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If all else fail, myself have power to die. |
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