Be gone and live, or stay and die (3.5.6-11)

ROMEO           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. […]

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Birdsong in the dawn… (3.5.1-5)

[3.5] Enter ROMEO and JULIET aloft [as at the window]. JULIET                        Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:                         It was the nightingale, and not the lark,                         That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;                         Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.                         Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. (3.5.1-5) Let’s start […]

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A wedding, on Thursday; sorted! it’s very, very late… (3.4.23-35)

CAPULET        Well, 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,                         And there an end. But what say you […]

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Let’s seal the deal (3.4.12-22)

[Paris offers to go in, and Capulet calls him again.] CAPULET        Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender                         Of my child’s love: I think she will be ruled                         In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.                         Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed,                         Acquaint […]

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Staying on side with Paris (3.4.1-11)

[3.4]    Enter old CAPULET, his WIFE, and PARIS. CAPULET                    Things have fall’n out, sir, so unluckily                                     That we have had no time to move our daughter.                                     Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,                                     And so did I. Well, we were born to die.                                     ’Tis very late, she’ll not come down tonight.                                     I […]

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Farewell, Romeo, says the Friar (3.3.166-175)

FRIAR              Go hence, good night, and here stands all your state:                         Either be gone before the Watch be set,                         Or by the break of day disguised from hence.                         Sojourn in Mantua; I’ll find out your man,                         And he shall signify from time to time                         Every good hap to you that […]

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Romeo is coming! says the Friar (3.3.155-165)

FRIAR              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 stayed here all the night                         To hear good counsel. O, what learning is!                         My lord, I’ll […]

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It’s all going to be fine, says the Friar (3.3.146-154)

FRIAR              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,                         Where thou shalt live till we can find a time                         To blaze your marriage, reconcile […]

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These are your reasons to be cheerful, says the Friar (3.3.135-145)

FRIAR              What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,                         For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead:                         There thou art happy. Tybalt would kill thee,                         But thou slewest Tybalt: there art thou happy.                         The law that threatened death becomes thy friend,                         And turns it to exile: there art thou […]

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Stop playing with fire, says the Friar (3.3.126-134)

FRIAR              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 vowed to cherish;                         Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,                         Misshapen in the conduct of them both,                         Like […]

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