The eighth day of the first month, 1595
Dearest Diary,
Tonight, one of the finest balls in the land shall be held at the house of my beloved uncle, Lord Capulet. It is to be a grand affair with musicians, fine delicacies, and, of course, dancing. My mother insists that I wear a mask, as it is to be a masquerade, but I think that will cover my face with a far inferior beauty. How can cloth and beads compare with the soft satin of a perfect countenance? Bah!
An exciting thing – through the reports and rumors that run like rats through the servants’ quarters, I have heard that a Montague, Romeo by name, is strongly attracted to me and desires to make my acquaintance – and perhaps win my love. My mother also heard this gossip and, far from the reaction I expected, was pleased. I was horrified at first. A Montague? But Mother explained to me just how rich this Romeo’s family is and says that such a match is, well, matchless! She says that the wealth alone would be enough to set aside our petty quarrels and form a union between our families through marriage.
And… I have heard that this Romeo is a very handsome man.
I must put down my pen. The servants have come to dress me for the ball and I am blushing most furiously at the words I have dared to pen.
~ Rosaline Capulet

A few hours later…
Dearest Diary,
The ball is but minutes from starting. I can already hear the music playing from where I sit in a small room, scribbling this down. I must hurry.

And here is the reason that I felt compelled to spend these last moments before the ball writing in a small book.
Only seconds after the servants had finished fixing my hair, my mother burst into the room with wondrous news! She has heard (I know not how or from whom) that Romeo Montague is going to sneak into the masquerade tonight with the intent of catching a glimpse of me. Me!
So romantic, is it not?
Mother has taken it upon herself to give me some advice on how to capture him with my womanly graces. She says that it would be best for me to feign indifference in order to make him want me all the more. She calls it ‘playing hard to get’. I’m not entirely sure how this technique will earn me Romeo’s affections, but if Mother says it will, I certainly trust her.
Wish me all the luck under the sun!
~ Rosaline Capulet (soon to be Montague??)

The ninth day of the first month, 1595
Dearest Diary,
I am livid enough to throttle that good-for-nothing, flirting, ditz of a cousin of mine! Always she has been considered to be wittier, lovelier, and more charming than I am, and for long years have I endured it with gritted teeth. But this! This is not to be borne! I flinch away from penning this travesty, but it must be recorded by someone, so here it is.
Juliet Capulet (I spit as I speak that harridan’s name) has stolen the heart of my fair Romeo! Her wiles and flippant games have broken many a heart, but Romeo? I had thought he was above such traps!
Mother says that all is not yet lost. She says that I must be patient and let the affairs calm themselves before I should try again. Patient – bah!
~ Rosaline Capulet

The eleventh day of the first month, 1595
Dearest Diary,
Affairs are most certainly not calming themselves in the least. Quite the contrary of my mother’s predictions, Romeo Montague has not lost interest in Juliet (the conniving shrew!) and a rumor is flying through the servants’ quarters that – can I bring myself to write it? – that Romeo has secretly wed Juliet.
And that isn’t the worst.
Actually I take that back. That is the worst rumor, but there is a truth that is almost as bad as the rumor. My cousin Tybalt has been killed by Romeo. And Romeo has been banished. Oh, my sweet Romeo! How long will Juliet’s love last for you? (the fickle creature!)
~ Rosaline Capulet (and fated to remain, in bitterness, a Capulet.)

The fifteenth day of the first month, 1595
Dearest Diary,
It is over. Everything.
It is rather confusing, but the real point is that Romeo is dead. He killed himself after Juliet pretended to be dead (likely trying to play hard to get!). And then Juliet woke up to find that Romeo was dead, and so she killed herself (I’m surprised that she had the courage!).
Thus… it is over. I shall wander the earth in everlasting sorrow, doomed to be alone as the sun fades into darkness and the moon drops from the sky. Ah, it is a bitter cup we lovers drink! To either die with fulfilled love or live without hope of love.
Mother tries to console me, but I refuse to eat or drink. Perhaps it is for the better – with all the feasting around here, I could do with a few less pounds. But what will it matter when my only love is dead? And he didn’t even love me back. I shall die – loveless. Alone.
~ Rosaline Capulet

The twenty-first of the first month, 1595
Dearest Diary,
Mother has convinced me to attend the funeral of Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet. She says it will do me good. Bah! I shall shed bitter tears for Romeo and look in scorn at the body of my fickle cousin. Much good that will do me!
Mother insists that I wear my finest gown. She says the pale colors will emphasize the pallidness of my thin face and add to my ethereal beauty. Flattery does not heal my broken heart. But I will consent to the wishes of my mother and wear the gown.
Mother says that many people will be there, both from the Capulet household and from the household of the Montagues. It shall only wound me more to see Montagues running around with the features of my beloved. Perhaps I will faint with grief. Or die. That would be tragically dramatic.
~ Rosaline Capulet (perhaps for the last time. So I bit thee fondest diary, farewell!)

The twenty-eighth of the first month, 1595
Dearest Diary,
The funeral was wondrously tragic. I wept a river of tears, and Mother told me that I looked like a ghostly fairy. Just as the music grew to a climax and the two caskets were thrust into the darkness of the tomb, I fainted.
And, imagine my luck! I was standing right across from Benvolio Montague who leapt forward and caught me in his strong arms! When I was revived, he was most concerned with my health and eager to fetch anything that might make me feel better.
I blush as I write this, but… Benvolio is a very handsome man.
There is to be a ball at my uncle’s house in a fortnight. All the Montagues were invited, so I need not fear that Benvolio would sneak in to see me – though I’m certain he would if he had to!
Mother has sought to give me advice, but I turned her away. I think I can handle this without her meddling.
And, I believe that, this time, I will not play quite as hard to get…
~ Rosaline Capulet (soon to be Montague??)