Verona

"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."

"Lady Capulet: Verona’s summer hath not such a flower."

"Happy the Man, who his whole time doth bound Within th enclosure of his little ground. Happy the Man, whom the same humble place, (Th hereditary Cottage of his Race) From his first rising infancy has known, And by degrees sees gently bending down. With natural propension to that Earth Which both preserved his Life, and gave him birth. Him no false distant lights by fortune set. Could ever into foolish wandrings get. He never dangers either saw, or feard: The dreadful stormes at Sea he never heard. He never heard the shrill allarms of War, Or the worse noises of the Lawyers Bar. No change of Consuls marks to him the year, The change of seasons is his Calendar. The Cold and Heat, Winter and Summer shows, Autumn by Fruits, and Spring by Flow’rs he knows. He measures Time by Land-marks, and has found For the whole day the Dial of his ground. A neighbouring Wood born with himself he sees. And loves his old contemporary Trees. H’as only heard of near Verona’s Name, And knows it like the Indies, but by Fame. Does with a like concernment notice take Of the Red-Sea, and of Benacus Lake. Thus Health and Strength he to a third age enjoyes, And sees a long Posterity of Boys. About the spacious World let others roam. The Voyage Life is longest made at home."

"Chorus: Two households, both alike in dignity (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

"Thrice blest Verona! since the holy three With their imperial presence shine on thee; Honoured by them, thy treacherous site forgets The vaunted tomb of all the Capulets; Thy Scaligers—for what was Dog the Great, Can Grande (which I venture to translate,) To these sublimer pugs? Thy poet too, Catullus, whose old laurels yield to new; Thine amphitheatre, where Romans sate; And Dante’s exile sheltered by thy gate; Thy good old man, whose world was all within Thy wall, nor knew the country held him in: Would that the royal guests it girds about Were so far like, as never to get out! Ay, shout! inscribe! rear monuments of shame, To tell Oppression that the world is tame; Crowd to the theatre with loyal rage, The comedy is not upon the stage; The show is rich in ribandry and stars, Then gaze upon it through thy dungeon bars; Clap thy permitted palms, kind Italy, For thus much still thy fettered hands are free!"

"Pleasant Verona! With its beautiful old palaces, and charming country in the distance, seen from terrace walks, and stately, balustraded galleries. With its Roman gates, still spanning the fair street, and casting, on the sunlight of to-day, the shade of fifteen hundred years ago. With its marble-fitted churches, lofty towers, rich architecture, and quaint old quiet thoroughfares, where shouts of Montagues and Capulets once resounded, And made Veronas ancient citizens Cast by their grave, beseeming ornaments, To wield old partizans.With its fast-rushing river, picturesque old bridge, great castle, waving cypresses, and prospect so delightful, and so cheerful! Pleasant Verona!"

"Friar Lawrence: Hence from Verona art thou banishèd. Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.Romeo: There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence banishèd is banish’d from the world, And world’s exile is death. Then banishèd Is death misterm’d. Calling death banished, Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe, And smilest upon the stroke that murders me."