Romeo and Juliet

by: William Shakespeare

  Act 4 Scene 5

page Act 4 Scene 5 Page 3

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Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir.
40My daughter he hath wedded. I will die,
And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter married death. I will die and leave Death everything. Life, wealth, everything belongs to Death.

PARIS

Have I thought long to see this morning’s face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?

PARIS

Have I waited so long to see this morning, only to see this?

LADY CAPULET

Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
45Most miserable hour that e'er time saw
In lasting labor of his pilgrimage.
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catched it from my sight!

LADY CAPULET

Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! This is the most miserable hour of all time! I had only one child, one poor child, one poor and loving child, the one thing I had to rejoice and comfort myself, and cruel Death has stolen it from me!

NURSE

50O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day, most woeful 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.
55O woeful day, O woeful day!

NURSE

Oh pain! Oh painful, painful, painful day! The saddest day, most painful day that I ever, ever did behold! Oh day! Oh day! Oh day! Oh hateful day! There has never been so black a day as today. Oh painful day, Oh painful day!

PARIS

Beguiled, divorcèd, wrongèd, spited, slain!
Most detestable Death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life! Not life, but love in death.

PARIS

She was tricked, divorced, wronged, spited, killed! Death, the most despicable thing, tricked her. Cruel, cruel Death killed her. Oh love! Oh life! There is no life, but my love is dead!

CAPULET

60Despised, distressèd, hated, martyred, killed!
Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child, O child! My soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! Alack, my child is dead,
65And with my child my joys are buried.

CAPULET

Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed! Why did this have to happen now? Why did Death have to ruin our wedding? Oh child! Oh child! My soul and not my child! You are dead! Oh no! My child is dead. My child will be buried, and so will my joys.

FRIAR LAWRENCE

Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion’s cure lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid. Now heaven hath all,

FRIAR LAWRENCE

Be quiet, for shame! The cure for confusion is not yelling and screaming. You had this child with the help of heaven. Now heaven has her.