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  • Fizzgig
    Registered User
    • Feb 2004
    • 9649

    #2151
    MONTAGUE
    Many a morning hath he there been seen,
    With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
    Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
    But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
    Should in the furthest east begin to draw
    The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
    Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
    And private in his chamber pens himself,
    Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
    And makes himself an artificial night:
    Black and portentous must this humour prove,
    Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

    Comment

    • Fizzgig
      Registered User
      • Feb 2004
      • 9649

      #2152
      BENVOLIO
      My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

      MONTAGUE
      I neither know it nor can learn of him.

      BENVOLIO
      Have you importuned him by any means?
      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

      Comment

      • Fizzgig
        Registered User
        • Feb 2004
        • 9649

        #2153
        MONTAGUE
        Both by myself and many other friends:
        But he, his own affections' counsellor,
        Is to himself--I will not say how true--
        But to himself so secret and so close,
        So far from sounding and discovery,
        As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
        Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
        Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
        Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
        We would as willingly give cure as know.

        Enter ROMEO
        ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

        Comment

        • Fizzgig
          Registered User
          • Feb 2004
          • 9649

          #2154
          BENVOLIO
          See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
          I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

          MONTAGUE
          I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
          To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.

          Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE
          ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

          Comment

          • Fizzgig
            Registered User
            • Feb 2004
            • 9649

            #2155
            BENVOLIO
            Good-morrow, cousin.

            ROMEO
            Is the day so young?

            BENVOLIO
            But new struck nine.
            ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

            Comment

            • Fizzgig
              Registered User
              • Feb 2004
              • 9649

              #2156
              ROMEO
              Ay me! sad hours seem long.
              Was that my father that went hence so fast?

              BENVOLIO
              It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

              ROMEO
              Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
              ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

              Comment

              • Fizzgig
                Registered User
                • Feb 2004
                • 9649

                #2157
                BENVOLIO
                In love?

                ROMEO
                Out--

                BENVOLIO
                Of love?

                ROMEO
                Out of her favour, where I am in love.
                ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                Comment

                • Fizzgig
                  Registered User
                  • Feb 2004
                  • 9649

                  #2158
                  BENVOLIO
                  Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
                  Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
                  ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                  Comment

                  • Fizzgig
                    Registered User
                    • Feb 2004
                    • 9649

                    #2159
                    ROMEO
                    Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
                    Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
                    Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
                    Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
                    Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
                    Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
                    O any thing, of nothing first create!
                    O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
                    Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
                    Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
                    sick health!
                    Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
                    This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
                    Dost thou not laugh?
                    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                    Comment

                    • Fizzgig
                      Registered User
                      • Feb 2004
                      • 9649

                      #2160
                      BENVOLIO
                      No, coz, I rather weep.

                      ROMEO
                      Good heart, at what?

                      BENVOLIO
                      At thy good heart's oppression.
                      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                      Comment

                      • Fizzgig
                        Registered User
                        • Feb 2004
                        • 9649

                        #2161
                        ROMEO
                        Why, such is love's transgression.
                        Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
                        Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
                        With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
                        Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
                        Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
                        Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
                        Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
                        What is it else? a madness most discreet,
                        A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
                        Farewell, my coz.
                        ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                        Comment

                        • Fizzgig
                          Registered User
                          • Feb 2004
                          • 9649

                          #2162
                          BENVOLIO
                          Soft! I will go along;
                          An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

                          ROMEO
                          Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
                          This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
                          ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                          Comment

                          • Fizzgig
                            Registered User
                            • Feb 2004
                            • 9649

                            #2163
                            BENVOLIO
                            Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

                            ROMEO
                            What, shall I groan and tell thee?

                            BENVOLIO
                            Groan! why, no.
                            But sadly tell me who.
                            ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                            Comment

                            • Fizzgig
                              Registered User
                              • Feb 2004
                              • 9649

                              #2164
                              ROMEO
                              Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
                              Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
                              In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

                              BENVOLIO
                              I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.

                              ROMEO
                              A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.

                              BENVOLIO
                              A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
                              ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                              Comment

                              • Fizzgig
                                Registered User
                                • Feb 2004
                                • 9649

                                #2165
                                ROMEO
                                Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
                                With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
                                And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
                                From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
                                She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
                                Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
                                Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
                                O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
                                That when she dies with beauty dies her store.
                                ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                Comment

                                • Fizzgig
                                  Registered User
                                  • Feb 2004
                                  • 9649

                                  #2166
                                  BENVOLIO
                                  Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

                                  ROMEO
                                  She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
                                  For beauty starved with her severity
                                  Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
                                  She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
                                  To merit bliss by making me despair:
                                  She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
                                  Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
                                  ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                  Comment

                                  • Fizzgig
                                    Registered User
                                    • Feb 2004
                                    • 9649

                                    #2167
                                    BENVOLIO
                                    Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

                                    ROMEO
                                    O, teach me how I should forget to think.

                                    BENVOLIO
                                    By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
                                    Examine other beauties.
                                    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                    Comment

                                    • Fizzgig
                                      Registered User
                                      • Feb 2004
                                      • 9649

                                      #2168
                                      ROMEO
                                      'Tis the way
                                      To call hers exquisite, in question more:
                                      These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
                                      Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
                                      He that is strucken blind cannot forget
                                      The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
                                      Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
                                      What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
                                      Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
                                      Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.
                                      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                      Comment

                                      • Fizzgig
                                        Registered User
                                        • Feb 2004
                                        • 9649

                                        #2169
                                        BENVOLIO
                                        I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

                                        Exeunt
                                        ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                        Comment

                                        • FrankHolland
                                          Confirmed User
                                          • Nov 2004
                                          • 7241

                                          #2170
                                          NastyDollars

                                          Comment

                                          • FrankHolland
                                            Confirmed User
                                            • Nov 2004
                                            • 7241

                                            #2171
                                            NastyDollars

                                            Comment

                                            • Fizzgig
                                              Registered User
                                              • Feb 2004
                                              • 9649

                                              #2172
                                              SCENE II. A street.

                                              Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant
                                              ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                              Comment

                                              • Fizzgig
                                                Registered User
                                                • Feb 2004
                                                • 9649

                                                #2173
                                                CAPULET
                                                But Montague is bound as well as I,
                                                In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
                                                For men so old as we to keep the peace.

                                                PARIS
                                                Of honourable reckoning are you both;
                                                And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
                                                But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
                                                ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                Comment

                                                • Fizzgig
                                                  Registered User
                                                  • Feb 2004
                                                  • 9649

                                                  #2174
                                                  CAPULET
                                                  But saying o'er what I have said before:
                                                  My child is yet a stranger in the world;
                                                  She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
                                                  Let two more summers wither in their pride,
                                                  Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

                                                  PARIS
                                                  Younger than she are happy mothers made.
                                                  ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                  Comment

                                                  • Fizzgig
                                                    Registered User
                                                    • Feb 2004
                                                    • 9649

                                                    #2175
                                                    CAPULET
                                                    And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
                                                    The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
                                                    She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
                                                    But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
                                                    My will to her consent is but a part;
                                                    An she agree, within her scope of choice
                                                    Lies my consent and fair according voice.
                                                    This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
                                                    Whereto I have invited many a guest,
                                                    Such as I love; and you, among the store,
                                                    One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
                                                    At my poor house look to behold this night
                                                    Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
                                                    Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
                                                    When well-apparell'd April on the heel
                                                    Of limping winter treads, even such delight
                                                    Among fresh female buds shall you this night
                                                    Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
                                                    And like her most whose merit most shall be:
                                                    Which on more view, of many mine being one
                                                    May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
                                                    Come, go with me.

                                                    To Servant, giving a paper

                                                    Go, sirrah, trudge about
                                                    Through fair Verona; find those persons out
                                                    Whose names are written there, and to them say,
                                                    My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

                                                    Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS
                                                    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                    Comment

                                                    • Fizzgig
                                                      Registered User
                                                      • Feb 2004
                                                      • 9649

                                                      #2176
                                                      Servant
                                                      Find them out whose names are written here! It is
                                                      written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
                                                      yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
                                                      his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
                                                      sent to find those persons whose names are here
                                                      writ, and can never find what names the writing
                                                      person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.

                                                      Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO
                                                      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                      Comment

                                                      • FrankHolland
                                                        Confirmed User
                                                        • Nov 2004
                                                        • 7241

                                                        #2177
                                                        boohoohoo
                                                        NastyDollars

                                                        Comment

                                                        • Fizzgig
                                                          Registered User
                                                          • Feb 2004
                                                          • 9649

                                                          #2178
                                                          BENVOLIO
                                                          Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
                                                          One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
                                                          Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
                                                          One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
                                                          Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
                                                          And the rank poison of the old will die.
                                                          ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                          Comment

                                                          • Fizzgig
                                                            Registered User
                                                            • Feb 2004
                                                            • 9649

                                                            #2179
                                                            ROMEO
                                                            Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.

                                                            BENVOLIO
                                                            For what, I pray thee?

                                                            ROMEO
                                                            For your broken shin.
                                                            ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                            Comment

                                                            • FrankHolland
                                                              Confirmed User
                                                              • Nov 2004
                                                              • 7241

                                                              #2180
                                                              NastyDollars

                                                              Comment

                                                              • Fizzgig
                                                                Registered User
                                                                • Feb 2004
                                                                • 9649

                                                                #2181
                                                                BENVOLIO
                                                                Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

                                                                ROMEO
                                                                Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
                                                                Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
                                                                Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.

                                                                Servant
                                                                God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?

                                                                ROMEO
                                                                Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
                                                                ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                Comment

                                                                • FrankHolland
                                                                  Confirmed User
                                                                  • Nov 2004
                                                                  • 7241

                                                                  #2182
                                                                  NastyDollars

                                                                  Comment

                                                                  • Fizzgig
                                                                    Registered User
                                                                    • Feb 2004
                                                                    • 9649

                                                                    #2183
                                                                    Servant
                                                                    Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
                                                                    pray, can you read any thing you see?

                                                                    ROMEO
                                                                    Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

                                                                    Servant
                                                                    Ye say honestly: rest you merry!
                                                                    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                    Comment

                                                                    • Fizzgig
                                                                      Registered User
                                                                      • Feb 2004
                                                                      • 9649

                                                                      #2184
                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                      Stay, fellow; I can read.

                                                                      Reads

                                                                      'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
                                                                      County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
                                                                      widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
                                                                      nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
                                                                      uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
                                                                      Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
                                                                      Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
                                                                      assembly: whither should they come?

                                                                      Servant
                                                                      Up.

                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                      Whither?

                                                                      Servant
                                                                      To supper; to our house.

                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                      Whose house?

                                                                      Servant
                                                                      My master's.

                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                      Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
                                                                      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                      Comment

                                                                      • Fizzgig
                                                                        Registered User
                                                                        • Feb 2004
                                                                        • 9649

                                                                        #2185
                                                                        Servant
                                                                        Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
                                                                        great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
                                                                        of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
                                                                        Rest you merry!

                                                                        Exit
                                                                        ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                        Comment

                                                                        • Fizzgig
                                                                          Registered User
                                                                          • Feb 2004
                                                                          • 9649

                                                                          #2186
                                                                          BENVOLIO
                                                                          At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
                                                                          Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
                                                                          With all the admired beauties of Verona:
                                                                          Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
                                                                          Compare her face with some that I shall show,
                                                                          And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

                                                                          ROMEO
                                                                          When the devout religion of mine eye
                                                                          Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
                                                                          And these, who often drown'd could never die,
                                                                          Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
                                                                          One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
                                                                          Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
                                                                          ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                          Comment

                                                                          • Fizzgig
                                                                            Registered User
                                                                            • Feb 2004
                                                                            • 9649

                                                                            #2187
                                                                            BENVOLIO
                                                                            Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
                                                                            Herself poised with herself in either eye:
                                                                            But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
                                                                            Your lady's love against some other maid
                                                                            That I will show you shining at this feast,
                                                                            And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

                                                                            ROMEO
                                                                            I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
                                                                            But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

                                                                            Exeunt
                                                                            ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                            Comment

                                                                            • Fizzgig
                                                                              Registered User
                                                                              • Feb 2004
                                                                              • 9649

                                                                              #2188
                                                                              SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.

                                                                              Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse
                                                                              LADY CAPULET
                                                                              Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
                                                                              ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                              Comment

                                                                              • Fizzgig
                                                                                Registered User
                                                                                • Feb 2004
                                                                                • 9649

                                                                                #2189
                                                                                Nurse
                                                                                Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
                                                                                I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
                                                                                God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

                                                                                Enter JULIET

                                                                                JULIET
                                                                                How now! who calls?

                                                                                Nurse
                                                                                Your mother.

                                                                                JULIET
                                                                                Madam, I am here.
                                                                                What is your will?
                                                                                ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                Comment

                                                                                • Fizzgig
                                                                                  Registered User
                                                                                  • Feb 2004
                                                                                  • 9649

                                                                                  #2190
                                                                                  LADY CAPULET
                                                                                  This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
                                                                                  We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
                                                                                  I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
                                                                                  Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

                                                                                  Nurse
                                                                                  Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

                                                                                  LADY CAPULET
                                                                                  She's not fourteen.
                                                                                  ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                  Comment

                                                                                  • Fizzgig
                                                                                    Registered User
                                                                                    • Feb 2004
                                                                                    • 9649

                                                                                    #2191
                                                                                    Nurse
                                                                                    I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
                                                                                    And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
                                                                                    She is not fourteen. How long is it now
                                                                                    To Lammas-tide?

                                                                                    LADY CAPULET
                                                                                    A fortnight and odd days.
                                                                                    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                    Comment

                                                                                    • Fizzgig
                                                                                      Registered User
                                                                                      • Feb 2004
                                                                                      • 9649

                                                                                      #2192
                                                                                      Nurse
                                                                                      Even or odd, of all days in the year,
                                                                                      Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
                                                                                      Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
                                                                                      Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
                                                                                      She was too good for me: but, as I said,
                                                                                      On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
                                                                                      That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
                                                                                      'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
                                                                                      And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
                                                                                      Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
                                                                                      For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
                                                                                      Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
                                                                                      My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
                                                                                      Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,
                                                                                      When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
                                                                                      Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
                                                                                      To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
                                                                                      Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
                                                                                      To bid me trudge:
                                                                                      And since that time it is eleven years;
                                                                                      For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
                                                                                      She could have run and waddled all about;
                                                                                      For even the day before, she broke her brow:
                                                                                      And then my husband--God be with his soul!
                                                                                      A' was a merry man--took up the child:
                                                                                      'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
                                                                                      Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
                                                                                      Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
                                                                                      The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
                                                                                      To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
                                                                                      I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
                                                                                      I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;
                                                                                      And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'
                                                                                      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                      Comment

                                                                                      • Fizzgig
                                                                                        Registered User
                                                                                        • Feb 2004
                                                                                        • 9649

                                                                                        #2193
                                                                                        LADY CAPULET
                                                                                        Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

                                                                                        Nurse
                                                                                        Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
                                                                                        To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
                                                                                        And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
                                                                                        A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
                                                                                        A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
                                                                                        'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
                                                                                        Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
                                                                                        Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'
                                                                                        ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                        Comment

                                                                                        • Fizzgig
                                                                                          Registered User
                                                                                          • Feb 2004
                                                                                          • 9649

                                                                                          #2194
                                                                                          Nurse
                                                                                          Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
                                                                                          Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
                                                                                          An I might live to see thee married once,
                                                                                          I have my wish.

                                                                                          LADY CAPULET
                                                                                          Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
                                                                                          I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
                                                                                          How stands your disposition to be married?

                                                                                          JULIET
                                                                                          It is an honour that I dream not of.

                                                                                          Nurse
                                                                                          An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
                                                                                          I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
                                                                                          ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                          Comment

                                                                                          • Fizzgig
                                                                                            Registered User
                                                                                            • Feb 2004
                                                                                            • 9649

                                                                                            #2195
                                                                                            LADY CAPULET
                                                                                            Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
                                                                                            Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
                                                                                            Are made already mothers: by my count,
                                                                                            I was your mother much upon these years
                                                                                            That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
                                                                                            The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

                                                                                            Nurse
                                                                                            A man, young lady! lady, such a man
                                                                                            As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.

                                                                                            LADY CAPULET
                                                                                            Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

                                                                                            Nurse
                                                                                            Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
                                                                                            ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                            Comment

                                                                                            • Fizzgig
                                                                                              Registered User
                                                                                              • Feb 2004
                                                                                              • 9649

                                                                                              #2196
                                                                                              LADY CAPULET
                                                                                              What say you? can you love the gentleman?
                                                                                              This night you shall behold him at our feast;
                                                                                              Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
                                                                                              And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
                                                                                              Examine every married lineament,
                                                                                              And see how one another lends content
                                                                                              And what obscured in this fair volume lies
                                                                                              Find written in the margent of his eyes.
                                                                                              This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
                                                                                              To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
                                                                                              The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
                                                                                              For fair without the fair within to hide:
                                                                                              That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
                                                                                              That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
                                                                                              So shall you share all that he doth possess,
                                                                                              By having him, making yourself no less.
                                                                                              ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                              Comment

                                                                                              • Fizzgig
                                                                                                Registered User
                                                                                                • Feb 2004
                                                                                                • 9649

                                                                                                #2197
                                                                                                Nurse
                                                                                                No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.

                                                                                                LADY CAPULET
                                                                                                Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

                                                                                                JULIET
                                                                                                I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
                                                                                                But no more deep will I endart mine eye
                                                                                                Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

                                                                                                Enter a Servant
                                                                                                ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                                Comment

                                                                                                • Fizzgig
                                                                                                  Registered User
                                                                                                  • Feb 2004
                                                                                                  • 9649

                                                                                                  #2198
                                                                                                  Servant
                                                                                                  Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you
                                                                                                  called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
                                                                                                  the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must
                                                                                                  hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

                                                                                                  LADY CAPULET
                                                                                                  We follow thee.

                                                                                                  Exit Servant

                                                                                                  Juliet, the county stays.

                                                                                                  Nurse
                                                                                                  Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

                                                                                                  Exeunt
                                                                                                  ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                                  Comment

                                                                                                  • Fizzgig
                                                                                                    Registered User
                                                                                                    • Feb 2004
                                                                                                    • 9649

                                                                                                    #2199
                                                                                                    SCENE IV. A street.

                                                                                                    Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others
                                                                                                    ROMEO
                                                                                                    What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
                                                                                                    Or shall we on without a apology?

                                                                                                    BENVOLIO
                                                                                                    The date is out of such prolixity:
                                                                                                    We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
                                                                                                    Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
                                                                                                    Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
                                                                                                    Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
                                                                                                    After the prompter, for our entrance:
                                                                                                    But let them measure us by what they will;
                                                                                                    We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
                                                                                                    ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

                                                                                                    Comment

                                                                                                    • Fizzgig
                                                                                                      Registered User
                                                                                                      • Feb 2004
                                                                                                      • 9649

                                                                                                      #2200
                                                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                                                      Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
                                                                                                      Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

                                                                                                      MERCUTIO
                                                                                                      Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

                                                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                                                      Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
                                                                                                      With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
                                                                                                      So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

                                                                                                      MERCUTIO
                                                                                                      You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
                                                                                                      And soar with them above a common bound.

                                                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                                                      I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
                                                                                                      To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
                                                                                                      I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
                                                                                                      Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

                                                                                                      MERCUTIO
                                                                                                      And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
                                                                                                      Too great oppression for a tender thing.

                                                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                                                      Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
                                                                                                      Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

                                                                                                      MERCUTIO
                                                                                                      If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
                                                                                                      Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
                                                                                                      Give me a case to put my visage in:
                                                                                                      A visor for a visor! what care I
                                                                                                      What curious eye doth quote deformities?
                                                                                                      Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

                                                                                                      BENVOLIO
                                                                                                      Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
                                                                                                      But every man betake him to his legs.

                                                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                                                      A torch for me: let wantons light of heart
                                                                                                      Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
                                                                                                      For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;
                                                                                                      I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
                                                                                                      The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

                                                                                                      MERCUTIO
                                                                                                      Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
                                                                                                      If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
                                                                                                      Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
                                                                                                      Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

                                                                                                      ROMEO
                                                                                                      Nay, that's not so.
                                                                                                      ---'-,-{@ Sassy Grrrl @}-'-,---

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