Act 2 Scene 3 Flashcards
Enter FRIAR LAWRENCE
The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, the day to cheer and night’s dank dew to dry, I must upfill this osier cage of ours with baleful weeds and precious-jucied flowers
Monologue 1.2
Oh, mickle is the powerful grace that lies in herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities. For naught so vile that on the eath doth live but to the earth some special good doth give.
Nor aught so good but, strained from that fair use revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Monologue final I
Within the infant rind of this small flower poison hath residence and medicine power. For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; being tasted stays all senses of the heart. Two such opposed kings encamp them still, in man as well as hearbs – grace and rude will. And where the worser is predominant, full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Romeo: Good morrow, Father.
Benedicte. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distempered head so soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, and where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
But where unbrusied youth with unstuffed brain doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure thou art uproused by some distemperature. Or if not so then here I hit it right; Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.
Romeo: that last is true. The sweeter rest was mine
God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline?
Romeo: With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No, I have forgot that name and that name’s woe
That’s my good son. But where hast thou been, then?
Romeo: […] My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift. Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Romeo: […] That thou consent to marry us today
Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, so soon forsaken? Young men’s love then lies not truly in their hearts but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown away in waste to season love that of it doth not taste!
Monologue 2 end
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears. Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit of an old tear that is not washed off yet.
If e’er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, thou and these woes were all for Rosaline.
Romeo: Thou chid’st me oft for loving Rosaline
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine
Romeo: And badest me bury love
Not in a grave, to lay one in, another out to have
Romeo: […] The other did not so
Oh, she knew well thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. But come, young waverer, come, go with me. In one respect I’ll thy assistant be, For this aliance may so happy prove to turn your households’ rancor to pure love.
Romeo: Oh, let us hence. I stand on sudden haste.
Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast. (exit right)
