I wrote this in the view-point of Paris, right after he died and is thus traveling to heaven. I tried to write it in Shakespeare-period English, but I didn't even attempt the iambic pentameter. If anyone has suggestions on how to make it sound more authentic I'd be greatly beholden to you! Thanks to impatient griselda, I'm trying to fix it. In the final line I mean to say, "I feel no ill omen, I'm ready to face St. Peter and have him tell me were I belong. I'm guessing I didn't word it right, so if anyone knows.
Walking walking walking. Fie! A pox upon walking! Had I known to see my ghostlysire I must first labor like a soldier at march; I would have done better not to die. Ho now! A light ere mine legs fail me.
A gate and two as dead as I. Lo! What trick is this? I know my Juliet dead, but Romeo breathed last I saw him. Tybalt brawls no longer, and my Lord Capulet, though moved no match for fiery youth's steel. What lies between his cold fingers? An apothecary's bottle, yet it must hold no cure.I would fain diedid all Romeo's sorrows befall me. It is writ, "There be no wise counsel from untempered sorrow". Here the author's proof!
Theircounsel through, my Julietwith her Romeo doth pass. Now shallmy final question be importun'd to me. Can my trueconfession satisfy my ghostly sire? My humor not portentous, let ancientrite come, let unattainted judgment pass.