Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day, most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, O woful day!

O lamentable day!

She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!

Look, look! O heavy day!

O lamentable day!

Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she:
Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!
Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!
What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now;
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
The County Paris hath set up his ...

Go, you cot-quean, go,
Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching.

They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

See where she comes from shrift with merry look.

Ay, forsooth.

Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

What?

And from my soul too;
Or else beshrew them both.

Faith, here it is.
Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married ...

May not one speak?

I speak no treason.

God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:
The day is broke; be wary, look about.

Madam!

Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
And then down falls again.

Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.

O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
Why should you ...

O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

Within Let me come in, and you shall know
my errand;
I come from Lady Juliet.

Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?

There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo!

It did, it did; alas the day, it did!

Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.

O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--
God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.

Romeo can,
Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!
Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone!
Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!

Ay, ay, the cords.

Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;
There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which ...

Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

O God's lady dear!
Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a
courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I
warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?

Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!
Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not
how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his
face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels
all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,
though they be not to ...

Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
Do you not see that I am out of breath?

I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:
Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!

Peter, stay at the gate.

Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.

Ay, a thousand times.
Exit Romeo
Peter!

Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for
the--No; I know it begins with some other
letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of
it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good
to hear it.