| Romeo and Juliet Act II. Scene II.
| 4 | ||||
| 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: | 8 | ||||
| Be not her maid, since she is envious; | |||||
| Her vestal livery is but sick and green, | |||||
| And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. | |||||
| It is my lady; O! it is my love: | 12 | ||||
| O! that she knew she were. | |||||
| She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? | |||||
| Her eye discourses; I will answer it. | |||||
| I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks: | 16 | ||||
| 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? | 20 | ||||
| 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. | 24 | ||||
| See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand: | |||||
O! that I were a glove upon that hand,That I might touch that cheek.  | |||||
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!OPHELIA
O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
Should be as moral as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
[Sings]LAERTES
They bore him barefaced on the bier;
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
Fare you well, my dove!
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,OPHELIA
It could not move thus.
[Sings]LAERTES
You must sing a-down a-down,
An you call him a-down-a.
O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
steward, that stole his master's daughter.
This nothing's more than matter.OPHELIA
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,LAERTES
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.OPHELIA
There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rueLAERTES
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,--
Sings
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,OPHELIA
She turns to favour and to prettiness.
[Sings]
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead:
Go to thy death-bed:
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan:
God ha' mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
Exit
