Juliet's Soliloquy - William Shakespeare

Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again.

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins

That almost freezes up the heat of life:

I'll call them back again to comfort me;--

Nurse!--What should she do here?

My dismal scene I needs must act alone.--

Come, vial.--

What if this mixture do not work at all?

Shall I be married, then, to-morrow morning?--

No, No!--this shall forbid it:--lie thou there.--

What if it be a poison, which the friar

Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,

Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,

Because he married me before to Romeo?

I fear it is: and yet methinks it should not,

For he hath still been tried a holy man:--

I will not entertain so bad a thought.--

How if, when I am laid into the tomb,

I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!

Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,

To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,

And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?

Or, if I live, is it not very like

The horrible conceit of death and night,

Together with the terror of the place,--

As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,

Where, for this many hundred years, the bones

Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,

Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,

At some hours in the night spirits resort;--

Alack, alack, is it not like that I,

So early waking,--what with loathsome smells,

And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,

That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;--

O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,

Environed with all these hideous fears?

And madly play with my forefathers' joints?

And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?

And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,

As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?--

O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost

Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body

Upon a rapier's point:--stay, Tybalt, stay!--

Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

Carpe Diem - William Shakespeare

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

O stay and hear! your true-love's coming

That can sing both high and low;

Trip no further, pretty sweeting,

Journey's end in lovers' meeting--

Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;

What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty,--

Then come kiss me, Sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Bridal Song - William Shakespeare

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,

Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden pinks, of odour faint,

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,

And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver;

Merry springtime's harbinger,

With her bells dim;

Oxlips in their cradles growing,

Marigolds on death-beds blowing,

Larks'-heels trim;

All dear Nature's children sweet

Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,

Blessing their sense!

Not an angel of the air,

Bird melodious or bird fair,

Be absent hence!

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor

The boding raven, nor chough hoar,

Nor chattering pye,

May on our bride-house perch or sing,

Or with them any discord

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind - William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,

That does not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:

Though thou the waters warp,

Thy sting is not so sharp

As a friend remembered not.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.