« PreviousContinue »
Enter Romeo and Juliet. Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll
say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's 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 is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
dark our woes.
[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel! one kiss, and I'll descend.
[Romeo descends. Jul. Art thou
Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall
Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul:
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu !
[Exit Romeo. Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back.
La. Cap. [within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
Enter Lady Capulet. La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet? Jul.
Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's
death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with
tears? An if thou could’st, thou could'st not make him
liye; Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of
love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
friend Which you weep for. Jul.
Feeling so the loss,
for his death,
That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
Soon sleep in quiet.—0, how my heart abhors
La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
Jul. Now, by saint Peter's church, and Peter too,
lord and father, madam,