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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 2, 1599)
  • Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
  • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
    Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 2, 1599)

    The most lamentable Tragedie
    Nur. Tybalt is gone and Romeo banished,
    1720Romeo that kild him he is banished.
    Iuli. O God, did Romeos hand shead Tibalts bloud?
    It did, it did, alas the day, it did.
    Nur. O serpent heart, hid with a flowring face.
    1725Iu. Did euer draggon keepe so faire a Caue?
    Bewtifull tirant, fiend angelicall:
    Rauenous douefeatherd rauē, woluishrauening lamb,
    Despised substance of diuinest showe:
    1730Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st,
    A dimme saint, an honourable villaine:
    O nature what hadst thou to do in hell
    When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend,
    In mortall paradise of such sweete flesh?
    1735Was euer booke containing such vile matter
    So fairely bound? ô that deceit should dwell
    In such a gorgious Pallace.
    Nur. Theres no trust, no faith, no honestie in men,
    All periurde, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers.
    1740Ah wheres my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae:
    These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old,
    Shame come to Romeo.
    Iu. Blisterd be thy tongue
    For such a wish, he was not borne to shame:
    1745Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit:
    For tis a throane where honour may be crownd
    Sole Monarch of the vniuersal earth.
    O what a beast was I to chide at him?
    Nur. Wil you speak wel of him that kild your cozin?
    Iu. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband?
    Ah poor my lord, what tongue shal smooth thy name,
    When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it?
    But wherefore villaine didst thou kill my Cozin?
    1755That villaine Cozin would haue kild my husband:
    Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring,
    Your tributarie drops belong to woe,