It is the time around Lammas Day or August 1st. It was a kind of harvest festival. So when the nurse asks how long it is until Lammas-tide, she is asking how long it will be until August 1st. Mrs. Capulet says fourteen plus days (a fortnight is fourteen days, and she says it is a few days more than that). Juliet's birthday is Lammas-eve, which in the same way that Christmas Eve is the day before Christmas, is the day before Lammas day, i.e. July 31.
Juliet will be turning 14. Lammastide is Lammas Day and it comes August 1st every year. :)
Religious festival around August 1st.
"Lammastide" (the feast of the harvest, or harvest festival) was held on 1st August.
Two or three weeks short of fourteen. Her mother and the nurse agree "She's not fourteen" She was born Lammas eve and Lammastide is a fortnight and odd days away according to her mother. Lammas is August first, her birthday was July 31 and the play takes place in mid July.
There have been many Romeo and Juliet translations in modern English text, but few have dared approach the subject matter in quite the same bold, bawdy, post-modern manner as Juliet and Her Romeo in the New Millennium. We've added our own modern twist to the Romeo and Juliet script, minus the famous love quotes and poems but with the addition of bawdy rhyme and comedic timing. Savor the dialogue below:JulietOh Romeo, wouldst thou leave me with my pony on the go? For if thou did I'd be obliged to slap it. And t'would never be exactly comme il faut, Indeed, I'd be constrained to handicap it.RomeoRacy girl, full dressage would lead to insufficient woe, A prematurely consummated plot because I lingered. Pray, cool down till I remount incognito, And be content with fervid equus fingered.JulietFlaccid pilgrim, thou wouldst leave me here in vaginated toil, All wanting and askew, a panting ingenue, To work myself into an artless broil, Akin to hand-stretched, frothied Montagues!RomeoAh Juliet, it ne'er occurred to me in fondest reverie, That even spirited mares not beg for intermission. Aye, countless swindled maids must be'n recorded history, Encumbered and unsated by so minuscule a seat of acquisition.JulietCockered boy, do not peter out on me in phallic bonhomie, For as you rise to empathize the nightingale doth sing, Which yet leaves time for lusty-thrusted spirited activity, By thine uplifted night bird fully...cocked...in wanton caroling.RomeoHollow night bird, tis not the nightingale you hear, But the prudent owl who know'st when to rest, Too wise to let us our own plot besmear, By labile minored pleas effused from being penisless.JulietAye, pleas as soundless as thy hoots for venerated plots, Whilst nightingales give way to cranky larks, Who spend long sterile days tied up in knots, Unsparked by dickering, stage-struck patriarchs.RomeoPoor stunted ears mistake the nagging screech of larks, For the gloried matinals of noble roosters, Whose fertile-throated calls ne'er fail to mark, The bawdy barnyard mien of great producers.JulietAlack, the pitied gait of limpest boosters, Fixed on long-winded plots but weakly proffered, By err-brained Montagues who would be roosters, Yet end stage-roasted capons, fully Stoppard.RomeoOh shamèd stable girl, thou wouldst malign, The noble-spirited clan of Montagues, Who even in high hubris would incline, To tender vulvaed Capulets sweet-tongued coos.JulietHence bid to drink vile potions by a hasty-witted friar, Then enter stage-struck Romeo fully blindered, Who doth belie stilled Juliet consumed in wishful ire, For his scene-stealing heart at full tilt daggered!RomeoOh sacrilege! Thou wouldst impale my loving heart, For crimson lips and cheeks so fair in everlasting rest, Embraced in dateless bargain, never to depart Our own dim nightèd palace ever blest.JulietSo quick forgotten thy dispatch of Paris, Whilst on thy whiny pilgrimage to me, Hence mewling over Tybalt in frozen animus, And none of it for me but all for thee!RomeoOh woe is me! Thou speak'st not as Juliet, Now lost most lovèd night bird, No greater beauty nature could'st beget, No sound more lovely in a single word.JulietNay Romeo, thy self-love played to me as purest love, Doth come from fawning boys too blind to see, That plots which play as wars can not be love, That horses as would plots run loving free.(Romeo makes a silent plea)JulietLong winded boy, alight. Save thy hackneyed story line, For trophied concubines best served supine, Akin to hollow-brainèd Rosaline..
Yee!
Juliet will be turning 14. Lammastide is Lammas Day and it comes August 1st every year. :)
august 1st every year
Religious festival around August 1st.
It's not that kind of a feast. Feast days in the church calendar are days of celebration, such as Christmas. Lammastide is one such day. But the play ends long before Lammastide: it is two weeks away in Act 1 Scene 3, and the events of the play take less than a week.
"Lammastide" (the feast of the harvest, or harvest festival) was held on 1st August.
There are no absolutely clear date markers in the play. We know from Act 1 Scene III that at that point in the play it is "a fortnight and odd days to Lammastide" Lammas is August 1st, so our action commences no later than July 14, and possibly a few days earlier. The deaths of Paris, Romeo and Juliet are therefore around the 18th to 20th of July. The text gives no indication whatsoever about the year.
Two or three weeks short of fourteen. Her mother and the nurse agree "She's not fourteen" She was born Lammas eve and Lammastide is a fortnight and odd days away according to her mother. Lammas is August first, her birthday was July 31 and the play takes place in mid July.
There have been many Romeo and Juliet translations in modern English text, but few have dared approach the subject matter in quite the same bold, bawdy, post-modern manner as Juliet and Her Romeo in the New Millennium. We've added our own modern twist to the Romeo and Juliet script, minus the famous love quotes and poems but with the addition of bawdy rhyme and comedic timing. Savor the dialogue below:JulietOh Romeo, wouldst thou leave me with my pony on the go? For if thou did I'd be obliged to slap it. And t'would never be exactly comme il faut, Indeed, I'd be constrained to handicap it.RomeoRacy girl, full dressage would lead to insufficient woe, A prematurely consummated plot because I lingered. Pray, cool down till I remount incognito, And be content with fervid equus fingered.JulietFlaccid pilgrim, thou wouldst leave me here in vaginated toil, All wanting and askew, a panting ingenue, To work myself into an artless broil, Akin to hand-stretched, frothied Montagues!RomeoAh Juliet, it ne'er occurred to me in fondest reverie, That even spirited mares not beg for intermission. Aye, countless swindled maids must be'n recorded history, Encumbered and unsated by so minuscule a seat of acquisition.JulietCockered boy, do not peter out on me in phallic bonhomie, For as you rise to empathize the nightingale doth sing, Which yet leaves time for lusty-thrusted spirited activity, By thine uplifted night bird fully...cocked...in wanton caroling.RomeoHollow night bird, tis not the nightingale you hear, But the prudent owl who know'st when to rest, Too wise to let us our own plot besmear, By labile minored pleas effused from being penisless.JulietAye, pleas as soundless as thy hoots for venerated plots, Whilst nightingales give way to cranky larks, Who spend long sterile days tied up in knots, Unsparked by dickering, stage-struck patriarchs.RomeoPoor stunted ears mistake the nagging screech of larks, For the gloried matinals of noble roosters, Whose fertile-throated calls ne'er fail to mark, The bawdy barnyard mien of great producers.JulietAlack, the pitied gait of limpest boosters, Fixed on long-winded plots but weakly proffered, By err-brained Montagues who would be roosters, Yet end stage-roasted capons, fully Stoppard.RomeoOh shamèd stable girl, thou wouldst malign, The noble-spirited clan of Montagues, Who even in high hubris would incline, To tender vulvaed Capulets sweet-tongued coos.JulietHence bid to drink vile potions by a hasty-witted friar, Then enter stage-struck Romeo fully blindered, Who doth belie stilled Juliet consumed in wishful ire, For his scene-stealing heart at full tilt daggered!RomeoOh sacrilege! Thou wouldst impale my loving heart, For crimson lips and cheeks so fair in everlasting rest, Embraced in dateless bargain, never to depart Our own dim nightèd palace ever blest.JulietSo quick forgotten thy dispatch of Paris, Whilst on thy whiny pilgrimage to me, Hence mewling over Tybalt in frozen animus, And none of it for me but all for thee!RomeoOh woe is me! Thou speak'st not as Juliet, Now lost most lovèd night bird, No greater beauty nature could'st beget, No sound more lovely in a single word.JulietNay Romeo, thy self-love played to me as purest love, Doth come from fawning boys too blind to see, That plots which play as wars can not be love, That horses as would plots run loving free.(Romeo makes a silent plea)JulietLong winded boy, alight. Save thy hackneyed story line, For trophied concubines best served supine, Akin to hollow-brainèd Rosaline..