In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (feel good novels txt) 📖
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Book online «Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (feel good novels txt) 📖». Author William Shakespeare
is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.
Enter Romeo
Romeo. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
Friar Laurence. Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sour company;
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
Romeo. What less than doomsday is the prince's doom?
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Friar Laurence. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.
Romeo. Ha, banishment! be merciful, say death,
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death; do not say banishment.
Friar Laurence. Hence from Verona art thou banished;
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Romeo. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence banished is banish'd from the world,
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And world's exile is death. Then banished
Is death misterm'd; calling death banishment
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murthers me.
Friar Laurence. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
Romeo. 'Tis torture, and not mercy; heaven is here,
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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 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;
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But Romeo may not, he is banished.
This may flies do, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But 'banished' to kill me?—Banished!
O friar, the damned use that word in hell,
Howling attends it; how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
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A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
Friar Laurence. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
Romeo. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Friar Laurence. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Romeo. Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
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It helps not, it prevails not; talk no more.
Friar Laurence. O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
Romeo. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
Friar Laurence. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
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 murthered,
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,
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Taking the measure of an unmade grave. [Knocking within.
Friar Laurence. Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.
Romeo. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans
Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking.
Friar Laurence. Hark, how they knock!—Who's there?—Romeo, arise;
Thou wilt be taken.—Stay awhile!—Stand up; [Knocking.
Run to my study.—By and by!—God's will,
What simpleness is this!—I come, I come! [Knocking.
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
Nurse. [Within] Let me come in and you shall know my errand;
I come from Lady Juliet.
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Friar Laurence.Welcome, then.
Enter Nurse
Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
Friar Laurence. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case!
Friar Laurence. O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament!
Nurse.Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.—
Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man.
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand.
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Why should you fall into so deep an O?
Romeo. Nurse!
Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
Romeo. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murtherer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
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And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
And then down falls again.
Romeo.As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murther her, as that name's cursed hand
Murther'd 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. [Drawing his sword.
Friar Laurence.Hold thy desperate hand!
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art;
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Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast.
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Thou hast amaz'd me; by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
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Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie, thou sham'st 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;
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Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too.
The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
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And turns it to exile; there art thou happy.
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back,
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
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Where thou shalt live till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.—
Go before, nurse, commend me to thy lady,
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto;
Romeo is coming.
Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
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To hear good counsel; O, what learning is!—
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Romeo. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir;
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [Exit.
Romeo. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Friar Laurence. Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence.
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
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And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you that chances here.
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
Romeo. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee.
Farewell. [Exeunt.
Scene IV.
A Room in Capulet's House
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris
Capulet. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily
That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I.—Well, we were born to die.—
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night;
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
Paris. These times of woe afford no time to woo.—
Madam, good night; commend me to your daughter.
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Lady Capulet. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
Capulet. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love. I think she will be rul'd
In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.—
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—
But, soft! what day is this?
Paris.Monday, my lord.
Capulet. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon.
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O' Thursday let it be; o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado,—a friend or two;
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much.
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,