Lines 146-154: Summarize the friars plan. What is Romeo to do?
Speeches (Lines) for Friar Laurence
in "Romeo and Juliet"
Total: 55
(Click to run across in context)
one
Ii,3,1059
(phase directions). [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a handbasket]
Friar Laurence. The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth 24-hour interval'south path and Titan's peppery wheels:
At present, ere the dominicus advance his called-for middle,
The twenty-four hours to cheer and night'south chilly dew to dry out,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
The world that's nature'due south mother is her tomb;
What is her burying grave that is her womb,
And from her womb children of divers kind
Nosotros sucking on her natural bosom find,
Many for many virtues splendid,
None but for some and still all dissimilar.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the world doth live
But to the globe some special good doth requite,
Nor goose egg and then good just strain'd from that fair use
Revolts from truthful birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this modest flower
Poisonous substance hath residence and medicine power:
For this, being smelt, with that function thanks each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Ii such opposed kings encamp them nevertheless
In homo equally well as herbs, grace and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full presently the canker decease eats upward that plant.
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Two,3,1091
Romeo. Good morrow, father.
Friar Laurence. Benedicite!
What early on tongue so sugariness saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
So presently to bid proficient morrow to thy bed:
Intendance keeps his watch in every old human's eye,
And where intendance lodges, sleep volition never lie;
Merely where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth burrow his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou fine art upwardly-roused by some distemperature;
Or if non so, and then here I hitting information technology right,
Our Romeo hath non been in bed to-night.
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Two,three,1104
Romeo. That final is truthful; the sweeter rest was mine.
Friar Laurence. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
4
II,three,1107
Romeo. With Rosaline, my ghostly begetter? no;
I accept forgot that proper noun, and that name'south woe.
Friar Laurence. That'south my good son: but where hast thou been, and then?
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II,3,1115
Romeo. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask information technology me once more.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded: both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies:
I comport no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Friar Laurence. Exist plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds merely riddling shrift.
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II,three,1125
Romeo. Then manifestly know my centre's love love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is assail mine;
And all combined, save what k must combine
Past holy marriage: when and where and how
We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; simply this I pray,
That one thousand consent to marry united states to-solar day.
Friar Laurence. Holy Saint Francis, what a change is hither!
Is Rosaline, whom 1000 didst beloved and so honey,
So soon forsaken? young men'due south dear and then lies
Non truly in their hearts, merely in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt h2o thrown away in waste matter,
To season love, that of it doth non taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring all the same in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not launder'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
And art k inverse? pronounce this sentence then,
Women may fall, when there'southward no strength in men.
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II,3,1142
Romeo. Thou chid'st me often for loving Rosaline.
Friar Laurence. For adoring, not for loving, educatee mine.
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Two,3,1144
Romeo. And bad'st me coffin beloved.
Friar Laurence. Non in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.
9
II,3,1149
Romeo. I pray thee, admonish not; she whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and dear for honey allow;
The other did non and so.
Friar Laurence. O, she knew well
Thy love did read past rote and could non spell.
But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
10
Ii,3,1156
Romeo. O, let usa hence; I stand up on sudden haste.
Friar Laurence. Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
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II,6,1459
(phase directions). [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO]
Friar Laurence. And then smile the heavens upon this holy act,
That after hours with sorrow chide united states not!
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II,vi,1467
Romeo. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow tin can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That 1 short minute gives me in her sight:
Practise thou but shut our easily with holy words,
Then love-devouring death practise what he dare;
Information technology is enough I may but call her mine.
Friar Laurence. These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like burn down and pulverization,
Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too wearisome.
[Enter JULIET]
Hither comes the lady: O, so low-cal a foot
Will ne'er habiliment out the everlasting flintstone:
A lover may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And however not fall; and then low-cal is vanity.
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II,vi,1481
Juliet. Skilful even to my ghostly confessor.
Friar Laurence. Romeo shall thank thee, girl, for united states both.
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Juliet. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true beloved is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
Friar Laurence. Come, come with me, and nosotros volition make short piece of work;
For, past your leaves, y'all shall non stay alone
Till holy church comprise 2 in one.
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III,3,1870
(stage directions). [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]
Friar Laurence. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
Disease is enamour'd of thy parts,
And m art wedded to cataclysm.
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III,three,1877
Romeo. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my paw,
That I yet know not?
Friar Laurence. As well familiar
Is my love son with such sour company:
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
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Three,3,1881
Romeo. What less than dooms-mean solar day is the prince'due south doom?
Friar Laurence. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, simply body'due south banishment.
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Romeo. Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'
Friar Laurence. Hence from Verona fine art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is wide and wide.
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Iii,3,1895
Romeo. In that location is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is blackball'd from the earth,
And world'south exile is death: then banished,
Is death mis-term'd: calling expiry adjournment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
Friar Laurence. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy error our constabulary calls decease; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd bated the law,
And turn'd that black word decease to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
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III,3,1923
Romeo. 'Tis torture, and non mercy: sky is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy matter,
Live hither in sky and may await on her;
Only Romeo may non: more validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In feces-flies than Romeo: they my seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet'southward hand
And steal immortal approving from her lips,
Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
Withal blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
Merely Romeo may non; he is banished:
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
They are gratis men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poisonous substance mix'd, no sharp-ground pocketknife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But 'banished' to impale me?—'banished'?
O friar, the damned employ that discussion in hell;
Howlings nourish it: how hast grand the eye,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
Friar Laurence. Thou addicted mad man, hear me but speak a word.
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III,three,1925
Romeo. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Friar Laurence. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
Arduousness's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though chiliad art banished.
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III,three,1932
Romeo. Notwithstanding 'banished'? Hang upwards philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince'due south doom,
It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.
Friar Laurence. O, then I meet that madmen accept no ears.
23
III,iii,1934
Romeo. How should they, when that wise men accept no optics?
Friar Laurence. Let me dispute with thee of thy manor.
24
III,three,1943
(stage directions). [Knocking within]
Friar Laurence. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
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3,3,1947
(stage directions). [Knocking]
Friar Laurence. Hark, how they knock! Who's in that location? Romeo, ascend;
Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand upwardly;
[Knocking]
Run to my study. By and by! God's will,
What simpleness is this! I come, I come up!
[Knocking]
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
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III,3,1957
Nurse. [Within] Let me come in, and you shall know
my errand;
I come from Lady Juliet.
Friar Laurence. Welcome, and so.
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Three,three,1961
Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
Friar Laurence. There on the footing, with his own tears fabricated boozer.
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III,3,1989
(phase directions). [Drawing his sword]
Friar Laurence. Concur thy desperate manus:
Art thou a human? thy form cries out g art:
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts announce
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
Or sick-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Yard hast amazed me: by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition meliorate temper'd.
Hast grand slain Tybalt? wilt k slay thyself?
And stay thy lady as well that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st m on thy nativity, the heaven, and world?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once; which yard at in one case wouldst lose.
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy dear, thy wit;
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy beloved, thy wit:
Thy noble shape is merely a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a human;
Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
Thy wit, that decoration to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
Is set ablaze past thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose love sake 1000 wast simply lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would impale thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; at that place are thou happy likewise:
The constabulary that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her all-time array;
But, similar a misbehaved and sullen wench,
G pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take listen, accept heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Arise her sleeping room, hence and comfort her:
Just look thousand stay not till the watch be ready,
For then k canst non pass to Mantua;
Where g shalt live, till we can find a time
To bonfire your wedlock, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and telephone call thee back
With xx hundred thousand times more joy
Than k went'st forth in lamentation.
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.
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Romeo. How well my condolement is revived past this!
Friar Laurence. Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the spotter be gear up,
Or by the break of day disguised from hence:
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from fourth dimension to fourth dimension
Every good hap to you that chances hither:
Give me thy paw; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
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Four,1,2364
(phase directions). [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS]
Friar Laurence. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
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IV,1,2367
Paris. My father Capulet will have it and so;
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
Friar Laurence. You say you exercise not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is the form, I similar it non.
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Paris. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's decease,
And therefore have I footling talk'd of beloved;
For Venus smiles non in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her begetter counts it dangerous
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our wedlock,
To cease the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by gild:
Now practise you lot know the reason of this haste.
Friar Laurence. [Bated] I would I knew not why it should exist slow'd.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
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Juliet. What must be shall be.
Friar Laurence. That'southward a certain text.
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Juliet. It may exist and then, for it is not mine ain.
Are you at leisure, holy father, at present;
Or shall I come up to you lot at evening mass?
Friar Laurence. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
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Iv,1,2412
Juliet. O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past assist!
Friar Laurence. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits:
I hear 1000 must, and null may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.
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Juliet. Tell me not, friar, that chiliad hear'st of this,
Unless one thousand tell me how I may prevent it:
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou just call my resolution wise,
And with this pocketknife I'll help it presently.
God join'd my middle and Romeo'southward, thou our hands;
And ere this paw, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another act,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no event of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak non of remedy.
Friar Laurence. Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution.
Equally that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of volition to slay thyself,
Then is information technology likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That copest with death himself to scape from it:
And, if 1000 darest, I'll give thee remedy.
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Juliet. O, bid me leap, rather than ally Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; concatenation me with roaring bears;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling basic,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hibernate me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have fabricated me tremble;
And I will do information technology without fear or doubt,
To alive an unstain'd wife to my sweetness honey.
Friar Laurence. Hold, then; go home, be merry, requite consent
To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:
To-morrow night look that thou lie solitary;
Allow not thy nurse lie with thee in thy bedchamber:
Take thousand this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor potable thou off;
When shortly through all thy veins shall run
A common cold and drowsy sense of humour, for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes, thy optics' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, deprived of supple regime,
Shall, strong and stark and common cold, appear similar expiry:
And in this infringe'd likeness of shrunk death
Chiliad shalt continue 2 and forty hours,
And so awake every bit from a pleasant sleep.
At present, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou expressionless:
Then, equally the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kindred of the Capulets prevarication.
In the mean fourth dimension, against m shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our migrate,
And here shall he come: and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very nighttime
Shall Romeo comport thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall gratis thee from this nowadays shame;
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Allay thy valour in the acting information technology.
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Juliet. Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!
Friar Laurence. Concord; become you lot gone, be potent and prosperous
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
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(stage directions). [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians]
Friar Laurence. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
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Capulet. Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time, why camest one thousand at present
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art g! Alack! my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried.
Friar Laurence. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion'due south cure lives not
In these confusions. Sky and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is information technology for the maid:
Your part in her you lot could not keep from death,
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most yous sought was her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven she should exist avant-garde:
And cry ye now, seeing she is advanced
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, y'all love your child and so sick,
That you lot run mad, seeing that she is well:
She's not well married that lives married long;
But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, equally the custom is,
In all her best array conduct her to church building:
For though fond nature bids united states an lament,
Withal nature's tears are reason's merriment.
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Capulet. All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the opposite.
Friar Laurence. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
To follow this off-white corse unto her grave:
The heavens do lour upon you lot for some sick;
Motility them no more than past crossing their loftier will.
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(stage directions). [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]
Friar Laurence. This same should be the vocalism of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?
Or, if his listen be writ, give me his letter.
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Friar John. Going to find a bare-foot blood brother out
One of our order, to acquaintance me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the boondocks,
Suspecting that nosotros both were in a firm
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seal'd upward the doors, and would not allow us along;
And so that my speed to Mantua at that place was stay'd.
Friar Laurence. Who blank my letter, then, to Romeo?
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Friar John. I could not send it,—here it is once more,—
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Friar Laurence. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The alphabetic character was not nice but full of charge
Of dear import, and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
Become me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
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(stage directions). [Go out]
Friar Laurence. Now must I to the monument lone;
Within three hours volition fair Juliet wake:
She will beshrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man'south tomb!
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Romeo. In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.
Mercutio's kinsman, noble Canton Paris!
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did non attend him every bit we rode? I call up
He told me Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To recollect it was so? O, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune'due south volume!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;
A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Decease, prevarication grand there, by a dead man interr'd.
[Laying PARIS in the tomb]
How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry! which their keepers call
A lightning earlier death: O, how may I
Call this a lightning? O my dear! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy jiff,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Chiliad fine art not conquer'd; beauty'south ensign notwithstanding
Is ruby-red in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And expiry'south pale flag is not advanced there.
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favour tin I do to thee,
Than with that mitt that cutting thy youth in twain
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dearest Juliet,
Why art thou yet so off-white? shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim nighttime
Depart again: here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
Will I set upwards my everlasting rest,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, expect your last!
Arms, take your final encompass! and, lips, O yous
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing decease!
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, at present at one time run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Hither's to my love!
[Drinks]
O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a buss I die.
[Dies]
[Enter, at the other cease of the churchyard, FRIAR]
LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade]
Friar Laurence. Saint Francis be my speed! how frequently to-nighttime
Accept my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?
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Balthasar. Hither'southward ane, a friend, and one that knows you lot well.
Friar Laurence. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, adept my friend,
What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capel's monument.
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Balthasar. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my primary,
One that you lot love.
Friar Laurence. Who is it?
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V,3,3083
Balthasar. Romeo.
Friar Laurence. How long hath he been at that place?
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Balthasar. Full half an hr.
Friar Laurence. Get with me to the vault.
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Balthasar. I dare non, sir
My primary knows non but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.
Friar Laurence. Stay, so; I'll go alone. Fearfulness comes upon me:
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
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Five,3,3095
Balthasar. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my main slew him.
Friar Laurence. Romeo!
[Advances]
Alack, alack, what claret is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To prevarication discolour'd by this place of peace?
[Enters the tomb]
Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris as well?
And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind 60 minutes
Is guilty of this distressing run a risk!
The lady stirs.
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(stage directions). [Noise within]
Friar Laurence. I hear some racket. Lady, come from that nest
Of expiry, contagion, and unnatural sleep:
A greater ability than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
Thy hubby in thy bust in that location lies dead;
And Paris too. Come up, I'll dispose of thee
Amongst a sisterhood of holy nuns:
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, become, skillful Juliet,
[Racket again]
I dare no longer stay.
54
5,3,3198
Prince Escalus. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till nosotros can articulate these ambiguities,
And know their bound, their head, their
true descent;
And so will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Friar Laurence. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Still most suspected, as the fourth dimension and place
Doth make against me of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excused.
55
V,three,3204
Prince Escalus. Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
Friar Laurence. I volition exist brief, for my short engagement of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
I married them; and their stol'n marriage-solar day
Was Tybalt's dooms-mean solar day, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the urban center,
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
You lot, to remove that siege of grief from her,
Betroth'd and would take married her perforce
To County Paris: so comes she to me,
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or in my cell in that location would she kill herself.
And then gave I her, and so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death: concurrently I writ to Romeo,
That he should here come up equally this dire nighttime,
To help to have her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the fourth dimension the potion's forcefulness should end.
Only he which diameter my letter, Friar John,
Was stay'd past accident, and yesternight
Return'd my letter back. So all alone
At the prefixed hr of her waking,
Came I to have her from her kindred's vault;
Meaning to continue her closely at my prison cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
Only when I came, some infinitesimal ere the time
Of her awaking, here untimely lay
The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience:
Merely and then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, as well drastic, would not go with me,
Only, as it seems, did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the matrimony
Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this
Miscarried past my fault, let my former life
Be sacrificed, some hour earlier his fourth dimension,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Source: https://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/plays/characters/charlines.php?CharID=friarlaurence&WorkID=romeojuliet&cues=1
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