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The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet Volume N . 26

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Highlights

  • ISBN13:9781236550606
  • ISBN10:1236550609
  • Publisher:Rarebooksclub.com
  • Language:English
  • Author:William Shakespeare
  • Binding:Paperback
  • SUPC: SDL794335078

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Country of Origin or Manufacture or Assembly India
Common or Generic Name of the commodity History & Politics
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1911 edition. Excerpt: ...--here on his manly breast. A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse! Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, 55 All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. Jul. O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! 60 Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead! Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaught'red, and is Tybalt dead? 65 My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two are gone? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. 70 Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day, it did! Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! 75 Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish ravenous lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, 80 When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace! Nurse. There's no trust, 85 No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vita; These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame. 91 Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where...

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