Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Will you go? It's not yet morning. It was the nightingale, not the lark.
Are you leaving? It's still night. That was a nightingale singing, not a lark.
don't go it's not morning yet that's a nightingale not a lark
It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
It was the lark, the herald of the morning. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds.
It's the lark—that means morning's coming. Look, the sun is painting the sky. We have to part.
it's the lark morning's here the sun's rising we have to go
Yond light is not daylight, I know it, I.
It is some meteor that the sun exhales
To be to thee this night a torchbearer
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet, thou need’st not to be gone.
That light is not daylight. I know it. It's a meteor from the sun that the sun exhaled to guide you safely.
That's not sunlight. I know it. It's just a shooting star the sun made to light your path.
that's not sunlight just a meteor i know it don't go
Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death,
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye,
’Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia’s brow.
Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay than will to go.
Come, death, and welcome. Juliet wills it so.
How is’t, my soul? Let’s talk. It is not day.
It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us.
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes.
O, now I would they had chang’d voices too,
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day.
O now be gone, more light and light it grows.
More light and light, more dark and dark our woes.
Madam.
Madam.
madam.
madam.
Nurse?
Nurse?
nurse?
nurse?
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
The day is broke, be wary, look about.
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. The day is broke, be wary, look about.
your lady mother is coming to your chamber. the day is broke, be wary, look about.
your lady mother is coming to your chamber. the day is broke
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
then, window, let day in, and let life out.
then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Farewell, farewell, one kiss, and I’ll descend.
Farewell, farewell, one kiss, and I’ll descend.
farewell, farewell, one kiss, and i’ll descend.
farewell, farewell, one kiss, and i’ll descend.
Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend,
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days.
O, by this count I shall be much in years
Ere I again behold my Romeo.
Art you gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend, I must hear from you every day in the hour, For in a minute thbefore are many days. Oh, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo.
art you gone so? love, lord, ay husband, friend, i...
art thou gone so? love, lord, ay husband, friend, i must hea
Farewell!
I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to you.
farewell! i will omit no opportunity that may convey my greetings, love, to you.
farewell! i will omit no opportunity that may convey my gree
O thinkest thou we shall ever meet again?
O thinkest you we shall ever meet again?
o thinkest you we shall ever meet again?
o thinkest thou we shall ever meet again?
I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.
i doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve for sweet discourses in our time to come.
i doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve for sweet dis
The alba or 'dawn song' was a medieval lyric genre: lovers arguing about whether it's day yet, forced to part by the coming light. Shakespeare knew the tradition intimately. What he does with it here is use the form's comfort against itself. Usually the alba is bittersweet — they part, but they'll reunite. Romeo and Juliet take the same dialogue (nightingale or lark?) and load it with real stakes: if Romeo stays, he dies. Juliet's final capitulation — 'It is the lark... go' — is the moment she chooses his survival over her own desire, which is also, essentially, a form of self-sacrifice. She gives him his life. He takes it. They won't see each other again alive.
O God! I have an ill-divining soul!
Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale.
O God! I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see you, now you are so low, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight fails, or you look’st pale.
o god! i have an ill-divining soul! methinks i see...
o god! i have an ill-divining soul! methinks i see thee, now
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you.
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.
and trust me, love, in my eye so do you. dry sorrow drinks our blood. adieu, adieu.
and trust me, love, in my eye so do you. dry sorrow drinks o
O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown’d for faith? Be fickle, Fortune;
For then, I hope thou wilt not keep him long
But send him back.
O Fortune, Fortune! All men call you fickle, If you are fickle, what dost you with him That is renown’d for faith? Be fickle, Fortune; For then, I hope you wilt not keep him long But send him back.
o fortune, fortune! all men call you fickle, if yo...
o fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle, if thou art fi
Who is’t that calls? Is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom’d cause procures her hither?
Who is’t that calls? Is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustom’d cause procures her hither?
who is’t that calls? is it my lady mother? is she ...
who is’t that calls? is it my lady mother? is she not down s
Why, how now, Juliet?
Why, how now, Juliet?
why, how now, juliet?
why, how now, juliet?
Madam, I am not well.
Madam, I am not well.
madam, i am not well.
madam, i am not well.
Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live.
Therefore have done: some grief shows much of love,
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? What, wilt you wash him from his grave with tears? And if you couldst, you couldst not make him live. Thbeforefore have done: some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? what, wi...
evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? what, wilt thou wa
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
Which you weep for.
So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for.
so shall you feel the loss, but not the friend which you weep for.
so shall you feel the loss, but not the friend which you wee
Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
feeling so the loss, i cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
feeling so the loss, i cannot choose but ever weep the frien
Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death
As that the villain lives which slaughter’d him.
Well, girl, you weep’st not so much for his death As that the villain lives which slaughter’d him.
well, girl, you weep’st not so much for his death as that the villain lives which slaughter’d him.
well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death as that t
What villain, madam?
What villain, madam?
what villain, madam?
what villain, madam?
That same villain Romeo.
That same villain Romeo.
that same villain romeo.
that same villain romeo.
Villain and he be many miles asunder.
God pardon him. I do, with all my heart.
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
Villain and he be many miles asunder. God pardon him. I do, with all my heare. And yet no man like he does grieve my heare.
villain and he be many miles asunder. god pardon h...
villain and he be many miles asunder. god pardon him. i do,
That is because the traitor murderer lives.
That is because the traitor murdbeforer lives.
that is because the traitor murdbeforer lives.
that is because the traitor murderer lives.
Ay madam, from the reach of these my hands.
Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death.
Ay madam, from the reach of these my hands. Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death.
ay madam, from the reach of these my hands. would none but i might venge my cousin’s death.
ay madam, from the reach of these my hands. would none but i
In Act 1, Capulet told Paris to win Juliet's heart, that her consent mattered, that she was young. Now he threatens to let her 'hang, beg, starve, die in the streets.' Something has changed. The most obvious explanation is Tybalt's death — grief and powerlessness often express as control, and Capulet cannot bring back his nephew but he can absolutely command his daughter. But there's also a simpler read: Capulet has always been a man used to absolute authority, and the Act 1 reasonableness was a courtesy extended in good times. When crossed, this is who he actually is. The play doesn't let him be simply a villain: he genuinely believes he's doing what's best for Juliet. But his certainty is indistinguishable from cruelty.
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not.
Then weep no more. I’ll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banish’d runagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustom’d dram
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.
We will have vengeance for it, fear you not. Then weep no more. I’ll send to one in Mantua, Whbefore that same banish’d runagate does live, Shall give him such an unaccustom’d dram That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: And then I hope you wilt be satisfied.
we will have vengeance for it, fear you not. then ...
we will have vengeance for it, fear thou not. then weep no m
Indeed I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo till I behold him—dead—
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex’d.
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it,
That Romeo should upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam’d, and cannot come to him,
To wreak the love I bore my cousin
Upon his body that hath slaughter’d him.
Find thou the means, and I’ll find such a man.
But now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
Find you the means, and I’ll find such a man. But now I’ll tell you joyful tidings, girl.
find you the means, and i’ll find such a man. but now i’ll tell you joyful tidings, girl.
find thou the means, and i’ll find such a man. but now i’ll
And joy comes well in such a needy time.
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
And joy comes well in such a needy time. What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
and joy comes well in such a needy time. what are they, i beseech your ladyship?
and joy comes well in such a needy time. what are they, i be
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
One who to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expects not, nor I look’d not for.
Well, well, you hast a careful father, child; One who to put you from your heaviness, Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, That you expects not, nor I look’d not for.
well, well, you hast a careful father, child; one ...
well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; one who to pu
Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
madam, in happy time, what day is that?
madam, in happy time, what day is that?
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church, Shall happily make you thbefore a joyful bride.
marry, my child, early next thursday morn the gall...
marry, my child, early next thursday morn the gallant, young
Now by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste, that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed.
Now by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too, He shall not make me thbefore a joyful bride. I wonder at this haste, that I must wed Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris. These are news indeed.
now by saint peter’s church, and peter too, he sha...
now by saint peter’s church, and peter too, he shall not mak
Here comes your father, tell him so yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Hbefore comes your father, tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands.
hbefore comes your father, tell him so yourself, and see how he will take it at your hands.
here comes your father, tell him so yourself, and see how he
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
But for the sunset of my brother’s son
It rains downright.
How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind.
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood, the winds, thy sighs,
Who raging with thy tears and they with them,
Without a sudden calm will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife?
Have you deliver’d to her our decree?
When the sun sets, the air does drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother’s son It rains downright. How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears? Evermore showering? In one little body Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. For still your eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark your body is, Sailing in this salt flood, the winds, your sighs, Who raging with your tears and they with them, Wiyout a sudden calm will overset Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife? Have you deliver’d to her our decree?
when the sun sets, the air does drizzle dew; but f...
when the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; but for the sun
Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave.
Soft. Take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
Soft. Take me with you, take me with you, wife. How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest, Unworyour as she is, that we have wrought So woryour a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
soft. take me with you, take me with you, wife. ho...
soft. take me with you, take me with you, wife. how, will sh
Not proud you have, but thankful that you have.
Proud can I never be of what I hate;
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.
Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate; But thankful even for hate that is meant love.
not proud you have, but thankful that you have. pr...
not proud you have, but thankful that you have. proud can i
How now, how now, chopp’d logic? What is this?
Proud, and, I thank you, and I thank you not;
And yet not proud. Mistress minion you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next
To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage!
You tallow-face!
How now, how now, chopp’d logic? What is this? Proud, and, I thank you, and I thank you not; And yet not proud. Mistress minion you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church, Or I will drag you on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage! You tallow-face!
how now, how now, chopp’d logic? what is this? pro...
how now, how now, chopp’d logic? what is this? proud, and, i
Fie, fie! What, are you mad?
Fie, fie! What, are you mad?
fie, fie! what, are you mad?
fie, fie! what, are you mad?
Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
good father, i beseech you on my knees, hear me with patience but to speak a word.
good father, i beseech you on my knees, hear me with patienc
Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch!
I tell thee what,—get thee to church a Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.
My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
That God had lent us but this only child;
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.
Out on her, hilding.
Hang you young baggage, disobedient wretch! I tell you what,—get you to church a Thursday, Or never after look me in the face. Speak not, reply not, do not answer me. My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce yought us blest That God had lent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her. Out on her, hilding.
hang you young baggage, disobedient wretch! i tell...
hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch! i tell thee wha
God in heaven bless her.
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
God in heaven bless her. You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
god in heaven bless her. you are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
god in heaven bless her. you are to blame, my lord, to rate
The Nurse has been Juliet's mother in every functional sense. She nursed her, raised her, loves her genuinely. Her advice to marry Paris is not malicious — she is trying to solve a practical problem with the tools available to her. But her counsel reveals a deep failure of understanding: she thinks love is fungible, that Romeo and Paris are essentially equivalent options and Paris is objectively better. She has never understood what Romeo and Juliet are to each other. She has watched their love and seen courtship; she missed the sacrament. Her comparison — 'Romeo's a dishclout to him' — is the most tone-deaf possible response to a woman who is secretly married. Juliet's 'Amen' is the door closing. They never have a real conversation again.
And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue,
Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.
And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.
and why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.
and why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, good prudence; sm
I speak no treason.
I speak no treason.
i speak no treason.
i speak no treason.
O God ye good-en!
O God ye good-en!
o god ye good-en!
o god ye good-en!
May not one speak?
May not one speak?
may not one speak?
may not one speak?
Peace, you mumbling fool!
Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl,
For here we need it not.
Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl, For hbefore we need it not.
peace, you mumbling fool! utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl, for hbefore we need it not.
peace, you mumbling fool! utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s
You are too hot.
You are too hot.
you are too hot.
you are too hot.
God’s bread, it makes me mad!
Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play,
Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her match’d, and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly allied,
Stuff’d, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportion’d as one’s thought would wish a man,
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune’s tender,
To answer, ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love,
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.’
But, and you will not wed, I’ll pardon you.
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise.
And you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend;
And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
For by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to’t, bethink you, I’ll not be forsworn.
God’s bread, it makes me mad! Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care has been To have her match’d, and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly allied, Stuff’d, as they say, with honourable pares, Proportion’d as one’s yought would wish a man, And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortune’s tender, To answer, ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love, I am too young, I pray you pardon me.’ But, and you will not wed, I’ll pardon you. Graze whbefore you will, you shall not house with me. Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest. Thursday is near; lay hand on heare, advise. And you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, For by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge you, Nor what is mine shall never do you good. Trust to’t, bethink you, I’ll not be forsworn.
god’s bread, it makes me mad! day, night, hour, ri...
god’s bread, it makes me mad! day, night, hour, ride, time,
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O sweet my mother, cast me not away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week,
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
Is thbefore no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away, Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument whbefore Tybalt lies.
is thbefore no pity sitting in the clouds, that se...
is there no pity sitting in the clouds, that sees into the b
Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word.
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word. Do as you wilt, for I have done with you.
talk not to me, for i’ll not speak a word. do as you wilt, for i have done with you.
talk not to me, for i’ll not speak a word. do as thou wilt,
O God! O Nurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven.
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself.
What say’st thou? Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, Nurse.
O God! O Nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on eareh, my faith in heaven. How shall that faith return again to eareh, Unless that husband send it me from heaven By leaving eareh? Comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems Upon so soft a subject as myself. What say’st you? Hast you not a word of joy? Some comfort, Nurse.
o god! o nurse, how shall this be prevented? my hu...
o god! o nurse, how shall this be prevented? my husband is o
Faith, here it is.
Romeo is banished; 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 with the County.
O, he’s a lovely gentleman.
Romeo’s a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or ’twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.
Faith, hbefore it is. Romeo is banished; 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 does, I think it best you married with the County. Oh, he’s a lovely gentleman. Romeo’s a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye As Paris has. Beshrew my very heare, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead, or ’twbefore as good he wbefore, As living hbefore and you no use of him.
faith, hbefore it is. romeo is banished; and all t...
faith, here it is. romeo is banished; and all the world to n
Speakest thou from thy heart?
Speakest you from your heare?
speakest you from your heare?
speakest thou from thy heart?
And from my soul too,
Or else beshrew them both.
And from my soul too, Or else beshrew them both.
and from my soul too, or else beshrew them both.
and from my soul too, or else beshrew them both.
Amen.
Amen.
amen.
amen.
What?
What?
what?
what?
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas’d my father, to Lawrence’ cell,
To make confession and to be absolv’d.
Well, you hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas’d my father, to Lawrence’ cell, To make confession and to be absolv’d.
well, you hast comforted me marvellous much. go in...
well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. go in, and tel
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
marry, i will; and this is wisely done.
marry, i will; and this is wisely done.
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais’d him with above compare
So many thousand times? Go, counsellor.
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
I’ll to the Friar to know his remedy.
If all else fail, myself have power to die.
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she has prais’d him with above compare So many yousand times? Go, counsellor. Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. I’ll to the Friar to know his remedy. If all else fail, myself have power to die.
ancient damnation! o most wicked fiend! is it more...
ancient damnation! o most wicked fiend! is it more sin to wi
The Reckoning
The scene that turns the vice one full turn tighter. It begins with one of Shakespeare's most beautiful exchanges — the lark/nightingale argument, two people desperately lying to themselves — and ends with Juliet absolutely alone in the world for the first time. Her parents have threatened and abandoned her. The Nurse, the one person Juliet has trusted her whole life, counsels her to marry Paris and calls Romeo a 'dishclout.' Juliet is thirteen years old and has no one. Her final line — 'If all else fail, myself have power to die' — is not melodrama. It's arithmetic.
If this happened today…
A teenager wakes up after secretly spending the night with their new spouse. Their partner leaves at dawn because they have to — they're literally going into exile. She watches him go from the window. Then her mother arrives with wedding news for a different person. Then her father arrives and, when she says no, threatens to throw her out of the house with nothing. Then the one adult she's always confided in says: 'Honestly? The new guy is better anyway. Just go with it.' She's alone in her room wondering if a priest is her only remaining option.