Romeo and Juliet (Abridged) – Juliet

Nurse: I bade her come. What, lamb. What ladybird. God forbid. Where’s this girl? What, Juliet? How now, who calls?
Your mother. Madam, I am here, what is your will?
Nurse: …’Yea,’ quoth my husband, ‘fall’st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age, Wilt thou not, Jule?’ It stinted and said, ‘Ay.’ And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I.
Lady Cap: Marry, tat marry is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married? It is an honor that I dream not of.
Lady Cap: Speak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love? I’ll look to like, if looking liking move. But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Romeo: If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin 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 holy hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss.
Romeo: Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too? Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo: O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Saints do not move, though grant for prayer’s sake.
Romeo: Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, but thine, my sin is purg’d. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Romeo: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d. Give me my sin again. You kiss by th’book.
Romeo: Is she a Capulet? O dear account. My life is my foe’s debt. Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman?
Nurse: I know not. Go ask his name. If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurse: His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy. My only love sprung from my only hate Too little seen unknown, and known too late. Prodigious birth of love it is to me That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse: What’s this? What’s this? A rhyme I learn’d even now Of one I danced withal.
Romeo: …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.
Romeo: She speaks. 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.
Romeo: Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? ‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is neither hand nor foot Nor arm nor face nor any other part Belonging to a man, O be some other name. That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet. Romeo, doff thy name. And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
Romeo: I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptis’d: Henceforth I never will be Romeo. What man art thou that thus bescreen’d in night so stumblest on my counsel?
Romeo: … My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I written it, I would tear the word. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of thy tongue’s uttering and yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Romeo: Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. How cam’st 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.
Romeo: …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?
Romeo: I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far, As that vast shore wash’d with the farthest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise. Thou knowsest the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ‘Ay.’And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear’st, Thou mayst prove false. At lover’s perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or if thou dost think I am too quickly won, I’ll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
Romeo: Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops — O swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Romeo: What shall I swear by? Do not swear a all. Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I’ll believe thee.
Romeo: If my heart’s dear love — Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight: It is too rash, too unadvis’d, too sudden, Too like the lighting, which doth cease to be Ere one can say ‘it lightens.’ Goodnight. Goodnight. As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast.
Romeo: O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?
Romeo: 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.
Romeo: 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. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu. Anon, good Nurse – Sweet Montague be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.
Romeo: O blessed blessed night. I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering sweet to be substantial. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honorable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay, And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
Nurse: Madam. I come, anon – but if thou meanest not well I do beseech thee– (MADAM!) By and by I come! To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief. Tomorrow will I send.
Romeo: So thrive my soul– A thousand times goodnight.
Romeo: 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 falconer’s voice.
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.
Romeo: My dear. What o’clock tomorrow Shall I send to thee?
Romeo: By the hour of nine. I will not fail. ‘Tis twenty year till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Romeo: Let me stand here till thou remember it. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.
Romeo: And I’ll still stay to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. ‘Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone, And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird, That let’s it hop a little from his hand.
Romeo: I would I were thy bird. Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Goodnight, goodnight. Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.

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