Entry the first: Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo? Refuse thy father. Deny thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn by my love and I will no longer be a Capulet. Oh how I pine to see my Romeo again! I have met him but once, yet I am already deep within love's web. Be it not matter to my heart that its only love has sprung from my only enemy. If the stars shalt write that I may meet with my Romeo, even one more time, I shall be eternally happy and I shall sing my praise to those stars from the highest point. A sound, what is this? Who stumblest on my counsel…
I sing to thee stars.
Entry the second: My cousin is dead at the hands of my love. I weep for my kinsman but how can I stop my heart from loving? I cannot. I will not. I need my Romeo here, to hold me, to wipe the tears from my eyes. I need to see him, to tell him my love is unchanged. To live without my Romeo, no worse happening can I imagine. Not even my own death would be as painful. Alas my Romeo is banished, exil'd from this place, and it may be so that I shan't see him again. I send my nurse to the Friar Laurence's cell, where she shalt find my true knight and give him my ring and bid him come to take his last farewell.
Entry the third: How can ones father force one to marry a man whom one hates and still expect one to be proud? Proud I can never be of what I hate. Thankful, yes, for hate that is meant love, but proud, never. Early next Thursday morn I am to meet at Saint Peter's church, where I am to be married to the County Paris; and if I do not, never again shall I be able to look in the face of my father, nor my mother. My trusted nurse, my confidant, even she suggests I do as has been requested; forget my banished Romeo and marry Paris. She says I could be happier in this second match. How is that possible, to be happier in a marriage to a man I do not love than in one to a man I do. How could she say such a thing? I will now to the Friar Laurence to know his remedy: If all else fail, myself have power to die.
Entry the fourth: It is the night before I am to be joined in marriage to the County Paris. I am alone in my room; I have bid that my dear nurse should leave me to myself this night. I have received an elixir from the friar, which once consumed, doth give the body all appearances of death. Tomorrow morn, when the County Paris comes to rouse me from my bed, I will lie there, seemingly dead. But what if the mixture does not work at all? Shall I be married then tomorrow morning? Or what if it be poison, which the friar hath subtly minister'd to have me dead, lest he should be dishonour'd in this marriage because he married me before to Romeo? Methinks not, for he is a holy man. How if I wake in the tomb before my Romeo comes to redeem me? O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught; lain in the place with all my buried ancestors and my dear cousin Tybalt, yet but green in earth? I must not think of these horrors. I must have faith; faith in the friar, the potion, and faith in my Love. I must stop writing now. Love, give me strength.