romeo longer chunks

so tyrannous and rough in proof

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 t'have heard it all Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, O anything of nothing first " create!"
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

thy good heart's oppression.

• 
  Why, such is love's transgression.
  Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
  Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;
  What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
  Farewell, my coz.

Groan? Why, no. But sadly tell me who.

A sick man in sadness makes his will
A word ill urged to one that is so ill.
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

I aimed so near when I supposed you loved.

A right good markman! And she's fair I love.

A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

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 armed, From love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

-
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.

Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her.

O, teach me how I should forget to think!

Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything you see?

Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

You say honestly. Rest you merry.

Stay, fellow. I can read. Snatched (He reads the letter.)
Mercutio and his brother Valentine, Mine Uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters,
My fair niece Rosaline and Livia, Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt, A fair assembly. Whither should they come?

Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire;
And these who, often drowned, 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.

That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best.

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

You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings And soar with them above a common bound.

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.

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

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
Too rude, too boist' rous, and it pricks like thorn.

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

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

This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves.
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels, and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. Parse
But he that hath the steerage of my course < get exit Direct my sail.' On,.lusty gentlemen.

I know not, sir.

-
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear-
Beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.
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.
It is my lady. O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks. two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those
stars
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye 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 wingèd messenger of heaven

doff thy name,
And, for thy name, which is no part of thee,

Take all myself.

I take thee at thy word.
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 yet not drunk a hundred words
Of thy tongue's uttering, 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 eyes, 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 found'st thou out this place?

-
By love, that 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 should adventure for such merchandise.

O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?

-Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine?

I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, And yet I would it were to give again.

-Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?

But to be frank and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.

• Nurse calls from within.
  I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu. Anon, good nurse.Sweet Montague, be true.
  Stay but a little; I will come again.

• O blessèd, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering sweet to be substantial.

JULIET By and by, I come.
To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief.
Tomorrow will I send.

• So thrive my soul

JULIET A thousand times good night.

-
A thousand times the worse to want thy light.
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their
books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

Hist, Romeo, hist! O, for a falc'ner's voice To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud, Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies And make her airy tongue more hoarse than ' mine With repetition of "My Romeo!"

It is my soul that calls upon my name.
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears.

Romeo.

my dear

I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. Walk arano I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Sit on table
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me That's by me wounded. Both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies.
I bear no hatred, blessèd man, for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

-Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, And all combined, save what thou must combine By holy marriage. When and where and how We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow I'll tell thee as we pass, but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us today.

Sure wit, follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular.

• O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
  singleness.

MERCUTIO Come between us, good Benvolio. My wits
faints.

-Switch and spurs, switch and spurs, or I'll cry
a match.

MERCUTIO Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done, for thou hast more of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose?

-Thou wast never with me for anything when
thou wast not there for the goose.

I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

• Nay, good goose, bite not.
  Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most
  sharp sauce.

MERCUTIO O, here's a wit of cheveril that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.

• I stretch it out for that word "broad," which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

thing to be oltered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

• Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress.
  I protest unto thee

NURSE Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much.
Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

What wilt thou tell her, nurse? Thou dost not
mark me.

NURSE I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as
I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

Bid her devise
Some means to come to shrift this afternoon, And there she shall at Friar Lawrence' cell Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

No, truly, sir, not a penny.

-Go to, I say you shall.

This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there.

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 topgallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell. Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Farewell. Commend me to thy mistress.

Now, God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

What sayst thou, my dear nurse?

So smile the heavens upon this holy act That after-hours with sorrow chide us not.

amen, amen. but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight.
Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

JULIET
As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

-
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbor air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
No better term than this: thou art a villain.

• Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting. Villain am I none.
  Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.

therefore turn and draw

-
I do protest I never injured thee
But love thee better than thou canst devise
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love.
And so, good Capulet, which name I tender As dearly as mine own, be satisfied.

TYBALT I am for you.

-
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Come, sir, your passado.

-
Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame forbear this outrage!
Tybalt! Mercutio! The Prince expressly hath Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!

I have it, and soundly, too. Your houses!

-
This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf. My reputation stained With Tybalt's slander-Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my cousin! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper softened valor's steel.

O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead.
That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

-
This day's black fate on more days doth depend.
This but begins the woe others must end.

Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

-
Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now.-Now, Tybalt, take the "villain" back again That late thou gavest me, for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.

not body's death, but body's banishment.

Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say "death,"
For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death. Do not say "banishment."

Here from Verona art thou banishèd.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

-
There is no world without Verona walls
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence "banished" is "banished from the world," And world's exile is death. Then "banishèd" is Is death mistermed. Calling death "banished,"
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden ax And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

FRIAR LAWRENCE
O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind prince, Taking thy part, hath rushed aside the law And turned that black word "death" to
"banishment."
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

• 'Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dos And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not. More validity,
  More honorable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo. They may 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 their own kisses sin;
  But Romeo may not; he is banishèd.
  And sayest thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground
  knife,
  No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But "banished" to kill me? "Banishèd"?
  O friar, the damned use that word in hell.
  Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word "banished"?

FRIAR LAWRENCE
Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak.

-
0, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

FRIAR LAWRENCE
I'll give thee armor to keep off that word, Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

-
Yet "banishèd"? Hang up philosophy.
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more.

O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

-How should they when that wise men have no eyes?

Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

-Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murderèd, 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.

Arise. One knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.

-
Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mistlike, enfold me from the search of eyes.

O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps, And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, And "Tybalt" calls, and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again.

-As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her, as that name's cursed hand Murdered her kinsman.O, tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion.

enter

-
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead (Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to
think!)
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips
That I revived and was an emperor.
Ah me, how sweet is love itself possessed When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!

(ben enters)

-News from Verona!-How now, Benvolio Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How doth my Juliet? That I ask again, For nothing can be ill if she be well.

Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

-Is it e'en so?
Then I deny you, stars! Thou knowest my lodging. Get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses. I will hence tonight.

I do beseech you, sir, have patience.
Your looks are pale and wild and do import
Some misadventure.

-Tush, thou art deceived.
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar?

No, my good lord.

-No matter. Get thee gone,
And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight.

ben exits

• Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight.
  I do remember an apothecary
  (And hereabouts he dwells) which late I noted In tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples. Meager were his looks.
  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."
  What ho, Apothecary!

Who calls so loud?

-Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor.
Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear That the life-weary taker may fall dead

to benvolio in churchyard

-Hold, take this letter. Early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father.Give me the light. Upon thy life I charge thee, Whate'er thou hearest or seest, stand all aloof And do not interrupt me in my course.hence, begone.But, if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I farther shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs.The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

-Live and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow.

For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout.
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

-Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And in despite I'll cram thee with more food

Thou must die

-I must indeed, and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desp rate man.
Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone.
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head By urging me to fury. O, begone!
A madman's mercy bid thee run away.

I do defy thy 'commination and apprehend thee for a felon here.

Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!

lay me with juliet

-
In faith, I will.let me peruse this face.
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! What said my cuz? I think
He told me Paris should have married Juliet.
Said he not so? Or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, To think it was so? o, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave. A grave? O, no. A lantern, slaughtered youth, For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light. Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interred. O my love, my wife, Thou art not conquered. Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advancèd there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favor can I do to thee? Forgive me, cousin.-Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous,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 chambermaids. O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O, you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death.
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide!
Here's to my love. Drinking.

O true apothecary, Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

-
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet. Thou need'st not to be gone.

-
Let me be ta'en; let me be put to death. I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye; tis not the lark whose notes do beat
Thave more care to stay than will to go.
Come death and welcome, Juliet wills it so. How is 't, my soul? Let's talk. It is not day.

JULIET
The day is broke; be wary; look about.
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

-Farewell, farewell. One kiss and I'll descend.

JULIET
Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend!
I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days.
O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo.

• Farewell.I will omit no opportunity
  That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

JULIET
O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

-I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.

O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
Either my eyesight fails or thou lookest pale.

-And trust me, love, in my eye so do you.
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.

[tis not to me she speaks]-me

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

The brightness of her cheek would shame those

stars

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye 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!

and not impute this yielding to light love which the dark night hath so discovered

lady by yonder blessed moon I vow that tips with silver all these fruit tree tops