| Nurse: Even or odd, all the days of the year,Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen.Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls!)Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God:She was too good for me. But, as I said,On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen:That shall she, marry: I remember it well.’Tis since the earthquake now eleven years.And she was weaned (I never shall forget it. . . | monologue |
| Friar: The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,Check’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light;And flecked darkness like a drunkard reelsFrom forth day’s path and Titan’s burning wheels.Now, ere the sun advance his burning eyeThe day to cheer and night’s dank dew to dry,I must upfill this osier cage of ours. . . | soliloquy |
| Prince: Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel—Will they not hear? What, ho! You men, you beasts,That quench the fire of your pernicious rageWith purple fountains issuing from your veins!On pain of torture, from those bloody hands. . . . | monologue |
| Juliet: Gallop, apace, you fiery-footed steeds,Towards phoebus’s lodging! Such a wagonerAs Phaeton would whip you to the westAnd bring in a cloudy night immediately,Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,That runaways’ eyes may wink, and RomeoLeap to these arms untalked of and unseen. . . | soliloquy |
| Juliet: Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veinsThat almost freezes up the heat of life.I’ll call them back again to comfort me.Nurse!–What should she do here?My dismal scene I needs must act alone. . . | soliloquy |
| Friar: Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion’s cure lives notIn these confusions. Heaven and yourselfHad part in this fair maid—now heaven hath all,And all the better is it for the maid,Your part in her you could not keep from death.But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. . . | monologue |
| Romeo: 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 griefThat thou her maid art far more fair than sheBe not her maid, since she is envious. . . | soliloquy |
Romeo and Juliet Major Test Review Shakespeare’s Writing Style
August 26, 2019