You know not what you do. Затем он встает и поворачивается спиной к солнцу, но в следующем кадре по тени заметно, что он идет к нему лицом. Или войти без лишних предисловий? Претензии к красоте героев вообще не принимаются. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. Входят КАПУЛЕТТИ, ПАРИС и СЛУГА.
William Shakespeare - The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. Использование материалов сайта www. Romeo and Juliet is one of a group of lyrical plays usually dated at The earliest date that has been proposed for first performance of Romeo and Juliet is The play might have begun in aboutthen laid aside, and only completed a year or two later. The allusions to Daniel and Eliot indicate as the earliest possible date for Romeo and Julietthe Bad Quatro makes the latest.
The famous clown William Kemp d. The text of the play is complex. It first appeared in print in the short Bad Quatro of with the following title-page: LONDON, Printed by Iohn Danter.
The text contains anticipations, recollections, transpositions, paraphrases, summaries, repetitions and omissions of words, phrases or lines correctly presented in the next edition. The First Quatro Q1piratical and dependent on an especially unreliable means of transmission for the text, was succeeded by a second Good version. This Second Quatro Q2 appeared two years later, evidently intended to supplant the Bad Quatro.
Its title page reads: Newly corrected, augmented, and amended: As it hath bene sundry times publiquely acted, by the right Honourable the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. Printed by Thomas Creede, for Cuthbert Burby, and are to be sold at his shop neare the Exchange. ESCALUS, Prince of Verona. PARIS, a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince. MONTAGUE, head of two houses at variance with each other.
CAPULET, head of two houses at variance with each other. AN OLD MAN, of the Capulet family. ROMEO, son to Montague. MERCUTIO, kinsman to the Prince and friend to Romeo.
BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet. FRIAR LAURENCE, a Franciscan. FRIAR JOHN, of the same order. BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo. ABRAM, servant to Montague. SAMSON, servant to Capulet. GREGORY, servant to Capulet. AN APOTHECARY, of Mantua. PAGE to Paris; another PAGE, an OFFICER. LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague. LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet. JULIET, daughter to Capulet. CITIZENS of Verona; KINSFOLK of both houses.
MASQUERS, TORCHBEARES, GUARDS, WATCHMEN, and ATTENDANTS. SCENE - Verona; once in the fifth act, at Mantua. Two households, both alike in dignity. In fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. The which if you with patient ears attend. What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
Enter SAMSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, with swords and bucklers. No, for then we should be colliers. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of collar. I strike quickly, being moved. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand.
A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will take the. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. I will show myself a tyrant. When I have fought. The heads of the maids? Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads. Take it in what sense thou wilt. They must take it in sense that feel it. Draw thy tool - Here comes two of the house of. Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR, two SERVINGMEN of the MONTAGUES. My naked weapon is out.
I will back thee. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? I do bite my thumb, sir. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my. Do you quarrel, sir? If you do, sir, am for you. I serve as good a man as you.
Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. Put up your swords. You know not what you do. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword. Or manage it to part these men with me. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word. As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. Have at thee, coward! Enter several of both houses, who join yhe fray. Clubs, bills, and partisans! Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! Enter old CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET.
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? My sword, I say! Old Montague is come. And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter old MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. Enter Prince ESCALUS with his TRAIN.
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace. Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel. Will they not hear? That quench the fire of your pernicious rage. With purple fountains issuing from your veins! On pain of torture, from those bloody hands.
Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground. And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word. By thee, old Capulet, and Montague. Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments.
To wield old partisans, in hands as old. If ever you disturb our streets again. Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away. You, Capulet, shall go along with me. And, Montague, come you this afternoon. To know our farther pleasure in this case. To old Freetown, our common judgment place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
Here were the servants of your adversary. And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. I drew to part them. In the instant came. He swung about his head and cut the winds. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows. Came more and more, and fought on part and part. Till the Prince came, who parted either part. O, where is Romeo? Saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad. Where, underneath the grove of sycamore. So early walking did I see your son.
Towards him I made; but he was ware of me. And stole into the covert of the wood. I- measuring his affections by my own. Which then most sought where most might not be found. Being one too many by my weary self.
Many a morning hath he there been seen. Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs. But all so soon as the all-cheering sun. Should in the farthest East bean to draw. Away from light steals home my heavy son. And private in his chamber pens himself. Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight. And makes himself an artificial night.
Black and portentous must this humour prove. Unless good counsel may the cause remove. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? I neither know it nor can learn of him. Both by myself and many other friend. Is to himself- I will not say how true. But to himself so secret and so close. So far from sounding and discovery.
As is the bud bit with an envious worm. Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air. Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know. See, where he comes. So please you step aside. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay. To hear true shrift. Is the day so young? But new struck nine.
Was that my father that went hence so fast? Not having that which having makes them short. Out of her favour where I am in love. Alas that love, so gentle in his view. Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Alas that love, whose view is muffled still. Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Why then, O brawling love!
O anything, of nothing first create! Misshapen 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, ромэо и джульетта скачать книгу. Dost thou not laugh? No, coz, I rather weep. Good heart, at what? 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. What is it else? A madness most discreet. A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. I will go along. An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. I have lost myself; I am not here: Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? What, shall I groan and tell thee? But sadly tell me who. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will.
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. A right good markman! A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Well, in that hit you miss.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms. Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste. 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. O, teach me how I should forget to think!
By giving liberty unto thine eyes. To call hers exquisite in question more. Being black puts 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.
Thou canst not teach me to forget. Enter CAPULET, COUNTY PARIS, and SERVANT - the ClOWN. But Montague is bound as well as I. For men so old as we to keep the peace. Of honourable reckoning are you both. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? My child is yet a stranger in the world. She hath not seen the change of fourteen years. Let two more summers wither in their pride. Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she. She is the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart.
My will to her consent is but a part. An she agree, within her scope of choice. Lies my consent and fair according voice. Whereto I have invited many a guest.
Such as I love; and you among the store. One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night. Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel. Of limping Winter treads, even such delight. Among fresh female buds shall you this night. Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see. And like her most whose merit most shall be. Which, on more view of many, mine, being one.
Come, go with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about. Through fair Verona; find those persons out. Whose names are written there, and to them say. My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. Find them out whose names are written here? I must to the learned. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning. Take thou some new infection to thy eye. And the rank poison of the old will die. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
For what, I pray thee? For your broken shin. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Not mad, but bound more than a madman is. Shut up in Prison, kept without my food.
I pray, sir, can you read? Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you. Ay, If I know the letters and the language. Stay, fellow; I can read. County Anselmo 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 niece Rosaline and Livia. Signior Valentio and His cousin Tybalt.
Lucio and the lively Helena. Whither should they come? To supper, to our house. My master is the great rich. Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come. 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.
When the devout religion of mine eye. Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires. Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? That I will show you shining at this feast. And she shall scant show well that now seems best. But to rejoice in splendour of my own. Enter LADY CAPULET and NURSE. Call her forth to me. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old. I bade her come. Madam, I am here. What is your will? This is the matter- Nurse, give leave awhile.
We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four. She is not fourteen. How long is it now. A fortnight and odd days. 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. 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. 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 dovehouse wall.
My lord and you were then at Mantua. Nay, I do bear a brain. 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 dovehouse! To bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years. She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, she broke her brow. And then my husband God be with his soul! Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit.
Wilt thou not, Jule? To see now how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand yeas. I never should forget it. I pray thee hold thy peace. Yet I cannot choose but laugh. And yet, I warrant, it bad upon it brow. A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly. Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet. How stands your disposition to be married? It is an honour that I dream not of. Were not I thine only nurse. Well, think of marriage now.
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem. Are made already mothers. 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. A man, young lady! Can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast. Examine every married lineament. And see how one another lends content. Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover. To beautify him only lacks a cover. For fair without the fair within to hide.
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story. So shall you share all that he doth possess. By having him making yourself no less. Women grow by men. But no more deep will I endart mine eye. Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. I must hence to wait. Juliet, the County stays. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO.
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology? The date is out of such prolixity. Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper. Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke.
After the prompter, for our entrance. But, let them measure us by what they will. Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. 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. You are a lover.
And soar with them above a common bound. 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. And, to sink in it, should you burthen love.
Too great oppression for a tender thing. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough. If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor! What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in. But every man betake him to his legs. A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart. Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels. Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
I mean, sir, in delay. We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits. Five times in that ere once in our five wits. And we mean well, in going to this masque. Why, may one ask? I dreamt a dream to-night. And so did I. Well, what was yours? That dreamers often lie. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. In shape no bigger than an agate stone.
On the forefinger of an alderman. Drawn with a team of little atomies. The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers. Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat. Not half so big as a round little worm. Her chariot is an empty hazelnut. Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub. Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues. Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. And then dreams he of smelling out a suit.
Then dreams he of another benefice. And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats. Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades. Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon. Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes. And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two. This is that very Mab. That plats the manes of horses in the night.
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs. Which once untangled much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs. That presses them and learns them first to bear. Making them women of good carriage. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
True, I talk of dreams. Which are the children of an idle brain. Begot of nothing but vain fantasy. Which is as thin of substance as the air. And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes. Even now the frozen bosom of the North. Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. Supper is done, and we shall come too late. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives. Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars.
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date. By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But he that hath the steerage of my course. SERVINGMEN come forth with napkins. He shift a trencher! Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cubbert, look. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane and, as. We cannot be here and there too. Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, JULIET, TYBALT, NURSE. Ladies that have their toes. Ah ha, my mistresses! Will now deny to dance?
She that makes dainty. Am I come near ye now? I have seen the day. That I have worn a visor and could tell. Such as would please. You are welcome, gentlemen! A hall, a hall! More light, you knaves! And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet. For you and I are past our dancing days.
Were in a mask? Come Pentecost as quickly as it will. His son is elder, sir. His son is thirty. Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. I know not, sir. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night. Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows.
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin. To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe. A villain, that is hither come in spite. To scorn at our solemnity this night. Young Romeo is it?
Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone. And, to say truth, Verona brags of him. I would not for the wealth of all this town. Here in my house do him disparagement. Therefore be patient, take no note of him. It is my will; the which if thou respect. Show a fair presence and put off these frowns. An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. It fits when such a villain is a guest.
I say he shall. Am I the master here, or you? God shall mend my soul! You will set cock-a-hoop! Go to, go to! You are a saucy boy. This trick may chance to scathe you. You must contrary me! Well said, my hearts! Be quiet, or- More light, more light! Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting. Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall. 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. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Sin from my lips? Give me my sin again. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
What is her mother? Her mother is the lady of the house. And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her. Shall have the chinks. Is she a Capulet? Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone. We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Why then, I thank you all. I thank you, honest gentlemen. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late.
What is yond gentleman? The son and heir of old Tiberio. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. Go ask his name. My grave is like to be my wedding bed. His name is Romeo, and a Montague. The only son of your great enemy. My only love, sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me. That I must love a loathed enemy. A rhyme I learnt even now. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie. And young affection gapes to be his heir.
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks. Being held a foe, he may not have access. To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear. And she as much in love, her means much less. To meet her new beloved anywhere. But passion lends them power, time means, to meet. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. Enter BENVOLIO with MERCUTIO. He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh. Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied!
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word. One nickname for her purblind son and heir. Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim. He heareth not, he stirreth not, be moveth not.
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. By her high forehead and her scarlet lip. By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh.
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie. That in thy likeness thou appear to us! An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. This cannot anger him. Of some strange nature, letting it there stand. That were some spite; my invocation. Is fair and honest: I conjure only but to raise up him. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees. To be consorted with the humorous night. Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree. And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit. As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. O, Romeo, that she were, O that she were. This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. Come, shall we go? He jests at scars that never felt a wound. 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. It is my lady; O, it is my love! O that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
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! O, speak again, bright angel! As is a winged messenger of heaven.
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him. When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds. And sails upon the bosom of the air. Deny thy father and refuse thy name! Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. 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 name would smell as sweet. Retain that dear perfection which he owes. Romeo, doff thy name. And for that name, which is no part of thee. I take thee at thy word. Henceforth I never will be Romeo. So stumblest on my counsel? 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.
My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. 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. For stony limits cannot hold love out. And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
If they do see thee, they will murther thee. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye. Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet. And I am proof against their enmity. I would not for the world they saw thee here. 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 love, that first did prompt me to enquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far. I would adventure for such merchandise. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face. Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek.
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form- fain, fain deny. What I have spoke; but farewell compliment! And I will take thy word. Thou mayst prove false. They say Jove laughs. If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won. So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond. And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light. Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess. And not impute this yielding to light love. Which the dark night hath so discovered. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear. That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops. That monthly changes in her circled orb. Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. What shall I swear by? Do not swear at all. Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self. Which is the god of my idolatry.
Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee. I have no joy of this contract to-night. Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest. Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? I gave thee mine before thou didst request it. And yet I would it were to give again. 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. Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. O blessed, blessed night! 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 honourable. Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow.
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite. And follow thee my lord throughout the world. I do beseech thee. To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief. Tomorrow will I send. So thrive my soul. A thousand times good night! A thousand times the worse, to want thy light! Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books. But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud. Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies. And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine. It is my soul that calls upon my name. Like softest music to attending ears! Shall I send to thee? By the hour of nine. I will not fail. I have forgot why I did call thee back. Let me stand here till thou remember it. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there. Forgetting any other home but this. I would have thee gone. That lets it hop a little from her hand.
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves. And with a silk thread plucks it back again. So loving-jealous of his liberty. I would I were thy bird.
Sweet, so would I. Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. Enter FRIAR LAURENCE alone, with a basket.
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels. Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye. I must up-fill this osier cage of ours. With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. What is her burying gave, that is her womb. And from her womb children of divers kind. We sucking on her natural bosom find. Many for many virtues excellent. None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies. In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live. But to the earth some special good doth give. Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied. Within the infant rind of this small flower. Poison hath residence, and medicine power.
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part. Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed kings encamp them still. In man as well as herbs- grace and rude will. And where the worser is predominant. Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distempered head.
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. And where care lodges sleep will never lie. Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure. Or if not so, then here I hit it right. Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. That last is true-the sweeter rest was mine.
Wast thou with Rosaline? With Rosaline, my ghostly father? But where hast thou been then? I have been feasting with mine enemy. Where on a sudden one hath wounded me. Within thy help and holy physic lies. I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo. My intercession likewise steads my foe. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift. Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine.
When, and where, and how. That thou consent to marry us to-day. What a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear. Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. What a deal of brine. How much salt water thrown away in waste. To season love, that of it doth not taste! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears. Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears.
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit. Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline. Pronounce this sentence then: For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. Not in a grave. To lay one in, another out to have. I pray thee chide not. She whom I love now. Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. The other did not so. O, she knew well. Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. But come, young waverer, come go with me.
For this alliance may so happy prove. O, let us hence! I stand on sudden haste. They stumble that run fast. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.
Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night? I spoke with his man. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline. Torments him so that he will sure run mad.
Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet. A challenge, on my life. Romeo will answer it. Any man that can write may answer a letter. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! Why, what is Tybalt? More than Prince of Cats, I can tell you. He fights as you sing. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes- these. O, their bones, their bones! Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art. Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed.
Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench marry, she had a. Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, This be a gray eye or so. Signior Romeo, bon jour! You gave us the counterfeit. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive? My business was great, and in such a. Thou hast most kindly hit it. A most courteous exposition. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy. O single-sold jest, solely singular for the singleness! Come between us, good Benvolio! Swits and spurs, swits and spurs! Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done; for thou. Was I with you there for the goose? Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Nay, good goose, bite not!
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? For this drivelling love is like a. Stop there, stop there! Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. I would have made it short; for I was. Enter NURSE and her Man [PETER]. A sail, a sail! God ye good morrow, gentlemen. God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman. What a man are you! One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. By my troth, it is well said. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have. I am the youngest of. Yea, is the worst well? If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
She will endite him to some supper. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! What hast thou found? No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is. An old hare hoar. And an old hare hoar.
Is very good meat in Lent. But a hare that is hoar. Is too much for a score. When it hoars ere it be spent. I will follow you. I Pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant was. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk and will. I am none of his. And thou must stand. I saw no man use you at his pleasure.
If I had, my weapon. I dare draw as soon. Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me. Pray you, sir, a word; and, as I told you. What she bid me say, I will. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee. Good heart, and I faith I will tell her as much. Lord, she will be a joyful woman. What wilt thou tell her, nurse?
Thou dost not mark me. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take. Some means to come to shrift this afternoon. Here is for thy pains. No, truly, sir; not a penny. I say you shall. Well, she shall be there. 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 topgallant of my joy. Must be my convoy in the secret night. Commend me to thy mistress.
Now God in heaven bless thee! Is your man secret? Two may keep counsel, putting one away? Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady.
Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with. Ay, nurse; what of that? Both with an R. R is for the - No; I know. Commend me to thy lady. Ay, a thousand times. Peter, take my fan, and go before, and apace. The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse. Perchance she cannot meet him. O, she is lame! And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill.
Is three long hours; yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood. She would be as swift in motion as a ball. My words would bandy her to my sweet love.
And his to me. But old folks, many feign as they were dead. Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Enter NURSE [and PETER]. O God, she comes! O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. Peter, stay at the gate. Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news.
By playing it to me with so sour a face. I am aweary, give me leave awhile. Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunce have I had! I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news. Nay, come, I pray thee speak.
Good, good nurse, speak. Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath? How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath. To say to me that thou art out of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay. Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good or bad? Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to. Though his face be better than. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. But all this did I know before.
What says he of our marriage? Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
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Постой, ты слишком скор. And then dreams he of smelling out a suit. Изменники, убийцы тишины, Грязнящие железо братской кровью! Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part.
Women grow by men. Чтоб в рот к нему без косточки и скачать книгу. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. Но мне кажется у Ромео и Джульетты все так быстро происходило, я могу подобрать такие слова "Прекрасная и мимолетная любовь",а по другому и не скажешь, ей нет и 14 лет, и влюбились с первого взгляда,на следующий день поженились!
Wilt thou not, Jule? То время миновало, миновало Стоит, сама не зная, кто. I- measuring his affections by my own. Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young.
Как звонки ночью голоса влюблённых! Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
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I- measuring his affections by my own,. В сцене с балконом Ромео сбивает в панике металлический подсвечник. О нет, не так давно, не так давно! Поживешь дольше, наживешь больше. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. Скачать Ромео и Джульетта бесплатно без регистрации: My life were better ended by their hate. The text contains anticipations, recollections, transpositions, paraphrases, summaries, repetitions and omissions of words, phrases or lines correctly presented in the next edition.
Сын вашего заклятого врага. У этого термина существуют и другие значения, см. Однако на родине, в СССР, в этот же период началась травля писателя. Чем долгий век без нежности твоей. I mean, sir, in delay.
Чтение происходило в зале городского Дома учителя.
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