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!
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Most 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
50
O 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.
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O 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
60
Despised, 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,
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And 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.
