2 May 1649
Dear Diary,
I am sitting here, brushing my hair with a silly grin on my face, thinking about the boy in the golden mask who was so bold as to kiss me, square on the mouth! A girl he hardly knows! I am still shocked, and maybe even a little amazed. For Romeo's touch was gentle yet strong, soft and full of passion; it was the touch of a man years older than he must be. And I wonder, is it natural to feel this way about someone you barely know? To have memorized every little thing about their perfect face, or to close your eyes and imagine how warm their lips were when they were pressed against yours? "...Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged..." My sin is purged. Those four words have replayed in my mind all day and haven't yet failed in weakening my knees and pulling the strings of my heart. Ah. This, this feeling must be love. It has to be. If not, and if I am truly to marry Paris, then I'll never know love. Never one as real nor true as this.
"Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou Romeo..."
9 May 1649
An angel. Romeo, my own earthly angel has bestowed upon me the name of the blessed angel. For if my sweet Romeo is able to see past my youthful exterior and into the depths of my soul, why is it the woman who has given me birth can only gaze upon me as her perpetual infant? I would sacrifice my own very sight if only Mother could see the depth of my love for Romeo as it is; profound and powerful as the great Moldau, never to cease but only rushing steadily forward. Oh diary, as I write these words I recollect his as he spoke to me from outside, the cold night air carrying his words from his sweet lips to my open window:
"...O, speak again bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being over my head as is a winged messenger of heaven..."
My cheeks are burning I'm sure, the joy his words bring to me are more than enough to set my soul aflame. And yet, I can't help but wonder will we ever be together as one? Or will my deepest wish simply fall upon deaf ears?
16 May 1649
Dear Diary,
Blessed be this day! for it shall never be forgotten for as long as I shall live! Never again will I be Juliet Capulet, lone daughter of Capulet and Lady Capulet. Today and for the rest of my life I will be Juliet Montague, wife and soul mate of Romeo Montague. Romeo and Juliet Montague. Romeo and Juliet. If only you could hear how beautiful and rich these plain names sound together! I am overjoyed. I fear my heart will burst at any moment. As I write my love lies beside me, woven in the webs of sleep, his strong lithe body still holding mine. His hair is dark gold in the moonlight, and it brushes my shoulder with every breath he inhales. I shudder every time, for the sensation is like silk. O, the love I feel for this man is like nothing I have ever felt.
"...Ah Juliet, sweeten with thy breath this neighbor air, and let rich music's tongue unfold the imagined happiness that both receive in either by this dear encounter..." And his beautiful eyes mirrored those words... Diary, I am sorry, these last few sentences will for certain be blurred with my tears. After being Romeo's wife for one night I can't fathom how I lived 14 years without him.
23 May 1649
Dear Diary,
Just when I thought nothing could fall us from the bliss of marriage, fate has played us a cruel hand and tragedy strikes. Just this morning as I awoke from a lovely dream (I'll leave it to you to guess what it was about) Nurse walked in, her face grave and solemn as an ancient priest.
"...A h, weraday, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone, lady we are undone!..." Thinking she was speaking of my sweet husband, the blood drained out of my face and I fell quite soundly in a heap on the ground. Nurse rushed over and quickly scooped me up, explaining in bits and pieces what had really taken place. Romeo is not dead, it seemed, but instead it is his silly friend Mercutio and my cousin, Tybalt. To make matters worse, Nurse tells me the latter died at the hands of my beloved. Ah me, for I am beside myself with grief! grief for my poor, pigheaded cousin, who I'm sure instigated his death, and for Romeo, who has been banished from Verona for all the more days he shall live. What will we do now? How can I stay loyal to my family without betraying my one true love?
30 May 1649
Dear Diary,
This will be my final entry forever and I will leave you with the truth, the entire truth, no matter how horrible it may be. The day after tomorrow Romeo, Friar Lawrence and I will execute a deceitful yet cunning plan, which will allow Romeo and I to be together, without neither fear nor worry. Granted, my husband will always be banished from Verona, but I won't be there either. You see, to all I know and love the day after tomorrow will be my last day on Earth.
It will be the day that I die.
It sounds cold and horrible, I know, but what else is there? If I don't pretend to die I will be forced to be tray my nuptials and wed Paris, an unfeeling man who has more riches than he does a soul. Being his wife would be worse than any death, especially one that isn't even real. Despite the evil in what I'm about to do, I can' t help but feel relief as well. After all we have been through, Romeo and I will finally be able to love and cherish each other in peace.
Juliet Isabella Montague