Speeches (Lines) for Romeo
in "Romeo and Juliet"

Total: 163

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# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text

1

I,1,183

Is the day so young?

2

I,1,185

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

3

I,1,188

Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

4

I,1,190

Out—

5

I,1,192

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

6

I,1,195

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?

7

I,1,210

Good heart, at what?

8

I,1,212

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.

9

I,1,225

Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

10

I,1,228

What, shall I groan and tell thee?

11

I,1,231

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.

12

I,1,235

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

13

I,1,237

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.

14

I,1,247

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.

15

I,1,255

O, teach me how I should forget to think.

16

I,1,258

'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.

17

I,2,325

Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.

18

I,2,327

For your broken shin.

19

I,2,329

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.

20

I,2,333

Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

21

I,2,336

Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

22

I,2,338

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?

23

I,2,349

Whither?

24

I,2,351

Whose house?

25

I,2,353

Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.

26

I,2,365

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.

27

I,2,377

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

28

I,4,497

What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without a apology?

29

I,4,507

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

30

I,4,510

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.

31

I,4,515

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.

32

I,4,521

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

33

I,4,531

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.

34

I,4,540

Nay, that's not so.

35

I,4,545

And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.

36

I,4,548

I dream'd a dream to-night.

37

I,4,550

Well, what was yours?

38

I,4,552

In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

39

I,4,596

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing.

40

I,4,608

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.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

41

I,5,662

[To a Servingman] What lady is that, which doth
enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?

42

I,5,666

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
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!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

43

I,5,719

[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.

44

I,5,727

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

45

I,5,729

O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

46

I,5,732

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

47

I,5,735

Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.

48

I,5,739

What is her mother?

49

I,5,746

Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

50

I,5,749

Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

51

II,1,796

Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

52

II,2,845

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
[JULIET appears above at a window]
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:
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.
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 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!

53

II,2,872

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-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

54

II,2,884

[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

55

II,2,897

I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

56

II,2,902

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.

57

II,2,910

Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

58

II,2,915

With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

59

II,2,920

Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

60

II,2,924

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.

61

II,2,929

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 wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

62

II,2,956

Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—

63

II,2,961

What shall I swear by?

64

II,2,966

If my heart's dear love—

65

II,2,976

O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

66

II,2,978

The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

67

II,2,981

Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

68

II,2,992

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

69

II,2,1010

So thrive my soul—

70

II,2,1013

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.

71

II,2,1025

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

72

II,2,1029

My dear?

73

II,2,1032

At the hour of nine.

74

II,2,1035

Let me stand here till thou remember it.

75

II,2,1038

And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

76

II,2,1046

I would I were thy bird.

77

II,2,1053

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

78

II,3,1090

Good morrow, father.

79

II,3,1103

That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

80

II,3,1105

With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

81

II,3,1108

I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
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, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

82

II,3,1117

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 woo'd and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

83

II,3,1141

Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

84

II,3,1143

And bad'st me bury love.

85

II,3,1146

I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

86

II,3,1155

O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

87

II,4,1208

Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

88

II,4,1210

Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in
such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

89

II,4,1214

Meaning, to court'sy.

90

II,4,1216

A most courteous exposition.

91

II,4,1218

Pink for flower.

92

II,4,1220

Why, then is my pump well flowered.

93

II,4,1224

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

94

II,4,1227

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

95

II,4,1232

Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast
not there for the goose.

96

II,4,1235

Nay, good goose, bite not.

97

II,4,1238

And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

98

II,4,1241

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

99

II,4,1254

Here's goodly gear!

100

II,4,1269

One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to
mar.

101

II,4,1274

I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when
you have found him than he was when you sought him:
I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.

102

II,4,1284

What hast thou found?

103

II,4,1296

I will follow you.

104

II,4,1303

A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,
and will speak more in a minute than he will stand
to in a month.

105

II,4,1326

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

106

II,4,1330

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

107

II,4,1333

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

108

II,4,1338

Go to; I say you shall.

109

II,4,1340

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.
Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

110

II,4,1348

What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

111

II,4,1351

I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

112

II,4,1361

Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

113

II,4,1367

Commend me to thy lady.

114

II,6,1461

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.

115

II,6,1483

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.

116

III,1,1560

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 know'st me not.

117

III,1,1566

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 my own,—be satisfied.

118

III,1,1584

Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

119

III,1,1587

Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

120

III,1,1600

Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

121

III,1,1610

I thought all for the best.

122

III,1,1616

This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

123

III,1,1627

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

124

III,1,1630

Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
[Re-enter TYBALT]
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.

125

III,1,1641

This shall determine that.

126

III,1,1647

O, I am fortune's fool!

127

III,3,1874

Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

128

III,3,1880

What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?

129

III,3,1883

Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'

130

III,3,1888

There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death: then banished,
Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

131

III,3,1900

'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 their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, but 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;
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

132

III,3,1924

O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

133

III,3,1928

Yet 'banished'? 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.

134

III,3,1933

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

135

III,3,1935

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.

136

III,3,1944

Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,
Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

137

III,3,1969

Nurse!

138

III,3,1971

Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood removed but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?

139

III,3,1981

As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'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.

140

III,3,2043

Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

141

III,3,2047

How well my comfort is revived by this!

142

III,3,2055

But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

143

III,5,2103

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

144

III,5,2114

Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have 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.

145

III,5,2133

More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

146

III,5,2141

Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

147

III,5,2148

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

148

III,5,2152

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

149

III,5,2158

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

150

V,1,2805

If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
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 possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!
[Enter BALTHASAR, booted]
News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar!
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet? that I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

151

V,1,2830

Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

152

V,1,2836

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

153

V,1,2840

No matter: get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
[Exit BALTHASAR]
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
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 roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
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.'
O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house.
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
What, ho! apothecary!

154

V,1,2869

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
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.

155

V,1,2879

Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;
The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

156

V,1,2887

I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

157

V,1,2891

There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.

158

V,3,2959

Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
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 hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my lady's face;
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring, a ring that I must use
In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further 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.

159

V,3,2978

So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:
Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.

160

V,3,2983

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!

161

V,3,2998

I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate 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, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

162

V,3,3010

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

163

V,3,3019

In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? 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, slaughter'd 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 interr'd.
[Laying PARIS in the tomb]
How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry! which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O, how may I
Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
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?
Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
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. 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, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!
[Drinks]
O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
[Dies]
[Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR]
LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade]

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