Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.
see?
Romeo. Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
Servant. Ye say honestly; rest you merry!
Romeo. Stay, fellow; I can read.
[Reads] 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair 70 niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena?' A fair assembly; whither should they come?
Servant. Up.
Romeo. Whither?
Servant. To supper; to our house.
Romeo. Whose house?
Servant. My master's.
Romeo. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
Servant. Now I'll tell you without asking. My 80 master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! [Exit.
Benvolio. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st,
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither, and with unattainted eye
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
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Romeo. 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.
Benvolio. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself pois'd with herself in either eye;
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid
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That I will show you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
Romeo. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
A Room in Capulet's House
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse
Lady Capulet. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old,
I bade her come.—What, lamb! what, lady-bird!—
God forbid!—Where's this girl?—What, Juliet!
Enter Juliet
Juliet. How now! who calls?
Nurse. Your mother.
Juliet. Madam, I am here.
What is your will?
Lady Capulet. This is the matter:—Nurse, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
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Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Lady Capulet. She's not fourteen.
Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth—
And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four—
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
Lady Capulet. A fortnight and odd days.
Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in 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,
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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 wean'd—I never shall forget it—
Of all the days of the year, upon that day,
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua—
Nay, I do bear a brain;—but, as I said,
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When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
Shake, quoth the dove-house; 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge.
And since that time it is eleven years,
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about.—
God mark thee to his grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd;
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An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
Lady Capulet. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
I came to talk of.—Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married?
Juliet. It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
Lady Capulet. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
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Are made already mothers. By my count,
I was your mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man
As all the world—why, he's