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Rondelle and Anna's Page

     

         

 

            

 

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"...Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls bred of an airy word By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate. If ever you disturb our streets again Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace..."

"...Some consequence yet hanging in the stars/ Shall bitterly begin his fearful date/ With this night's revels, and expire the term/ Of a despised life clos'd in my breast/ By some vile forfeit of untimely death."