What does enmity mean in romeo and juliet

Lady Capulet wants him dead, eradicating the chances of Romeo and Juliet 's marriage making way for peace between both households. Romeo 's impulsive decisions left a long chain of tragedies including his and his lover 's…. Due to loathe of the two families many people suffered in Verona. The fight between the hotheaded Tybalt and witty Mercutio is a simple example from the play that signifies the hatred of both families. Essays Essays FlashCards.

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Words: - Pages: 8. Abomination In Romeo And Juliet Thus, the death of the two young lovers taught them a life lesson that they will not succeed and be happy if their hearts are ruled by hatred and anger. Theme Of Arrogance In Romeo And Juliet Prince told the Capulets and the Montagues that he did not want any more fights or casualties on his street or he will have them banished. How Is Romeo And Juliet A Tragedy Throughout the whole play, many things are said of how this love was not meant to be, and how it could be dangerous to the feud if they were caught together.

Words: - Pages: 2. As daylight doth a lamp. Her eyes in heaven. Would, through the airy region , stream so bright. That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand,. That I might touch that cheek! Ay me! She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art. As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,. As is a winged messenger of heaven. Unto the white upturned wondering eyes.

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him. When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds. And sails upon the bosom of the air. O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name;. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,. And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,. Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part. Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name?

That which we call a rose,. By any other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would — were he not Romeo called —. Retain that dear perfection which he owes. Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,. And for that name, which is no part of thee,. Take all myself. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,. So stumblest on my counsel? By a name. I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,. Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words. Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?

Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,. And the place death, considering who thou art,. If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls,. For stony limits cannot hold love out;. And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye. Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet,. And I am proof against their enmity. I would not for the world they saw thee here. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;. And but thou love me, let them find me here.

My life were better ended by their hate,. Than death prorogued , wanting of thy love. By whose direction foundest thou out this place? By love, who first did prompt me to inquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot , yet wert thou as far. As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea,. I would adventure for such merchandise. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,. Nurse Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.

What dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? You will set cock-a-hoop! O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give, Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; And vice sometimes by action dignified.

Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? 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. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist , a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: ah, the immortal passado!

I do remember an apothecary ,-- And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and old cakes of ros Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion- mongers , these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench?

This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she-- ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!

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. Draws Tybalt, you rat-catcher , will you walk? Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter?

Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art up-roused by some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right, Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Digressing from the valour of a man; Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a sk I do remember an apothecary,-- And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and old cakes of ros Arms, take your last embrace!

Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order , I thought thy disposition better temper'd. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled , much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she-- ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!

FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou live Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.

Three civil brawls , bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

Is it e'en so? Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Digressing from the valour of a man; Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skitless Give me a case to put my visage in: A visor for a visor!

In one little body Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, Without a sudden calm, will overset Thy tempest-tossed body.

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.

First Watchman [Within] Lead, boy: which way? She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, 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.

He shift a trencher? What, rouse thee, man! 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. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give, Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action dignified.

What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? PRINCE A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle -bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go? Death is my son- in-law , Death is my heir; My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.

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.

Nurse There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

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? And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, O'er ladies ' lips , who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And someti The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love , And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

JULIET Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Hath Romeo slain himself? One fairer than my love! Or, if I live, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,-- As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed: Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: You must contrary me!

I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us! Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me: But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Nurse There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured , All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.

JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; 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.

Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath praised him with above compare So many thousand times? 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.

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.

BENVOLIO Madam , an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the city's side, So early walking did I see your son: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood: I, measuring his affections by my own, That most are busied when they're most alone, Pursued my humour not Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise , as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

Nurse An honour! A churchyard ; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets. And madly play with my forefather's joints? 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.

Nurse Ah. This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house Is empty on the back of Montague,-- And it mis- sheathed in my daughter's bosom! From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

Nurse I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: Fie, how my bones ache! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless skulls? Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench?

But now, my lord , what say you to my suit? Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: Then, as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.

Music plays, and they dance More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. 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.

Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell , His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And someti Or, if I live, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,-- As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed: Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loa I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

Nurse Lord, how my head aches! JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel -house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy ; Cleopatra a gipsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.

I will carry no crotchets : I'll re you, I'll fa you; do you note me? What, not a word? FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease : No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou live Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

ROMEO And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall: Within this hour my man shall be with thee And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. 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.

Enter a Servant 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. Even so lies she, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.

FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this vial , being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou live Nurse I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

ROMEO Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Answer me like men: 'When griping grief the heart doth wound, And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music with her silver sound'-- why 'silver sound'? I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Was that my father that went hence so fast? Farewell: buy food , and get thyself in flesh. 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. I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats : let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Laying down her dagger What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo? Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but 'Ay me!

God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, Give me some present counsel, or, behold, 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that Which the commission of thy years and art Could to no issue of t 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 warrant , an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule? Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, A sleeping potion ; which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, That he should hither come as this dire night, To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease. Nurse Go, you cot-quean, go, Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow For this night's watching.

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.

Music plays, and they dance More light, you knaves ; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. ROMEO Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. What dares the slave Come hither , cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

Noting this penury, to myself I said 'An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself. BENVOLIO Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And, with a martial scorn, with on Nurse Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. Still- waking sleep, that is not what it is! 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? 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!

The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb ; What is her burying grave that is her womb, And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find, Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some and yet all different. Hie you to church; I must another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you shall bear the burden soon at night.

Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. MERCUTIO This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it and conjured it down; That were some spite: my invocation Is fair and honest, and in his mistres s' name I conjure only but to raise up him. PRINCE This letter doth make good the friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death: And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.

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. All this I know; and to the marriage Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this Miscarried by my fault, let my old life Be sacrificed, some hour before his time, Unto the rigour of severest law. Exit Second Servant We shall be much unfurnished for this time. I'll send to one in Mantua, Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram , That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! 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.

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web , The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard.

Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods : Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, As signal that thou hear'st something approach.

I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule? Draw thy tool! New Testament one of the three sages from the east who came bearing gifts for the infant Jesus. FRIAR JOHN Going to find a bare-foot brother out One of our order, to associate me, Here in this city visiting the sick, And finding him, the searchers of the town, Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did reign, Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

Norwegian diplomat who was the first Secretary General of the United Nations ROMEO 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her; But Romeo may not: more validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion -flies than Romeo: they my seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking th They fight Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray ; then enter Citizens, with clubs First Citizen Clubs, bills, and partisans!

JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; What is her burying grave that is her womb , And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find, Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some and yet all different.

O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled , Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: He made you for a highway to my bed; But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.

Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, Alike betwitched by the charm of looks, But to his foe supposed he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved any where: But passion lends them power, time means, to meet Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

Stand not amazed : the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! Away to heaven, respective lenity , And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. PRINCE And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a- bleeding ; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of mine: I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.

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. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man.

Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make die with a restorative. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone , the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Nurse I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- God save the mark!

Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in , And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? CAPULET Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take no note of him: It is my will, the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

O, how my heart abhors To hear him named, and cannot come to him. 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.

Dove-feather'd raven! 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 wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. Signior Romeo, bon jour! 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.

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?

Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? Under yond yew -trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, As signal that thou hear'st something approach. 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.

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. It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!