Romeo and Juliet William Shakespeare (love novels in english .TXT) š
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online Ā«Romeo and Juliet William Shakespeare (love novels in english .TXT) šĀ». Author William Shakespeare
A whispering tale in a fair ladyās ear,
Such as would please: ātis gone, ātis gone, ātis gone:
You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. Music plays, and they dance.
More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
Ah, sirrah, this unlookād-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long isāt now since last yourself and I
Were in a mask? Second Capulet Byār lady, thirty years. Capulet
What, man! ātis not so much, ātis not so much:
āTis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five and twenty years; and then we maskād.
āTis more, ātis more: his son is elder, sir;
His son is thirty.
Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago.
To a Servingman. What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiopeās ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady oāer her fellows shows.
The measure done, Iāll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I neāer saw true beauty till this night.
This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave,
Come hither, coverād with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
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 governād 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.
It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
Iāll not endure him.
He shall be endured:
What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
Am I the master here, or you? go to.
Youāll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
Youāll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop! youāll be the man!
Go to, go to;
You are a saucy boy: isāt so, indeed?
This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
You must contrary me! marry, ātis time.
Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
Be quiet, orā āMore light, more light! For shame!
Iāll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!
Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. Exit.
To Juliet. If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrimsā hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmersā kiss.
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Then move not, while my prayerās effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.
Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous:
I nursed her daughter, that you talkād withal;
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
Shall have the chinks.
Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foeās debt.
Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it eāen so? why, then, I thank you all;
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
More torches here! Come on then, letās to bed.
Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
Iāll to my rest. Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.
Go ask his name: if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
The only son of your great enemy.
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.
A rhyme I learnād even now
Of one I danced withal. One calls within āJuliet.ā
Anon, anon!
Come, letās away; the strangers all are gone. Exeunt.
Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young affection gapes to
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