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FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE **** +["Small Print" V.12.08.93] + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + + +1595 + +THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Chorus. + + Escalus, Prince of Verona. + Paris, a young Count, kinsman to the Prince. + Montague, heads of two houses at variance with each other. + Capulet, heads of two houses at variance with each other. + An old Man, of the Capulet family. + Romeo, son to Montague. + Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. + Mercutio, kinsman to the Prince and friend to Romeo. + Benvolio, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo + Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. + Friar Laurence, Franciscan. + Friar John, Franciscan. + Balthasar, servant to Romeo. + Abram, servant to Montague. + Sampson, servant to Capulet. + Gregory, servant to Capulet. + Peter, servant to Juliet's nurse. + An Apothecary. + Three Musicians. + An Officer. + + Lady Montague, wife to Montague. + Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet. + Juliet, daughter to Capulet. + Nurse to Juliet. + + Citizens of Verona; Gentlemen and Gentlewomen of both houses; + Maskers, Torchbearers, Pages, Guards, Watchmen, Servants, and + Attendants. + + SCENE.--Verona; Mantua. + + + + THE PROLOGUE + + Enter Chorus. + + Chor. Two households, both alike in dignity, + In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, + From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, + Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. + From forth the fatal loins of these two foes + A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; + Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows + Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. + The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, + And the continuance of their parents' rage, + Which, but their children's end, naught could remove, + Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; + The which if you with patient ears attend, + What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. + [Exit.] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT I. Scene I. +Verona. A public place. + +Enter Sampson and Gregory (with swords and bucklers) of the house +of Capulet. + + Samp. Gregory, on my word, we'll not carry coals. + Greg. No, for then we should be colliers. + Samp. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. + Greg. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of collar. + Samp. I strike quickly, being moved. + Greg. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + Samp. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + Greg. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand. + Therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. + Samp. A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will take +the + wall of any man or maid of Montague's. + Greg. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the + wall. + Samp. 'Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, +are + ever thrust to the wall. Therefore I will push Montague's men + from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall. + Greg. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + Samp. 'Tis all one. I will show myself a tyrant. When I have +fought + with the men, I will be cruel with the maids- I will cut off + their heads. + Greg. The heads of the maids? + Samp. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads. + Take it in what sense thou wilt. + Greg. They must take it in sense that feel it. + Samp. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand; and 'tis +known I + am a pretty piece of flesh. + Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst +been + poor-John. Draw thy tool! Here comes two of the house of + Montagues. + + Enter two other Servingmen [Abram and Balthasar]. + + Samp. My naked weapon is out. Quarrel! I will back thee. + Greg. How? turn thy back and run? + Samp. Fear me not. + Greg. No, marry. I fear thee! + Samp. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + Greg. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they +list. + Samp. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is + disgrace to them, if they bear it. + Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + Samp. I do bite my thumb, sir. + Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + Samp. [aside to Gregory] Is the law of our side if I say ay? + Greg. [aside to Sampson] No. + Samp. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite +my + thumb, sir. + Greg. Do you quarrel, sir? + Abr. Quarrel, sir? No, sir. + Samp. But if you do, sir, am for you. I serve as good a man as +you. + Abr. No better. + Samp. Well, sir. + + Enter Benvolio. + + Greg. [aside to Sampson] Say 'better.' Here comes one of my + master's kinsmen. + Samp. Yes, better, sir. + Abr. You lie. + Samp. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. + They fight. + Ben. Part, fools! [Beats down their swords.] + Put up your swords. You know not what you do. + + Enter Tybalt. + + Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? + Turn thee Benvolio! look upon thy death. + Ben. I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, + Or manage it to part these men with me. + Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word + As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. + Have at thee, coward! They fight. + + Enter an officer, and three or four Citizens with clubs or + partisans. + + Officer. Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! beat them down! + Citizens. Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! + + Enter Old Capulet in his gown, and his Wife. + + Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + Wife. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? + Cap. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come + And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + + Enter Old Montague and his Wife. + + Mon. Thou villain Capulet!- Hold me not, let me go. + M. Wife. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. + + Enter Prince Escalus, with his Train. + + Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, + Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel- + Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, + That quench the fire of your pernicious rage + With purple fountains issuing from your veins! + On pain of torture, from those bloody hands + Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground + And hear the sentence of your moved prince. + Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word + By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, + Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets + And made Verona's ancient citizens + Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments + To wield old partisans, in hands as old, + Cank'red with peace, to part your cank'red hate. + If ever you disturb our streets again, + Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. + For this time all the rest depart away. + You, Capulet, shall go along with me; + And, Montague, come you this afternoon, + To know our farther pleasure in this case, + To old Freetown, our common judgment place. + Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + Exeunt [all but Montague, his Wife, and Benvolio]. + Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? + Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary + And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. + I drew to part them. In the instant came + The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; + Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, + He swung about his head and cut the winds, + Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn. + While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, + Came more and more, and fought on part and part, + Till the Prince came, who parted either part. + M. Wife. O, where is Romeo? Saw you him to-day? + Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun + Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, + A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; + Where, underneath the grove of sycamore + That westward rooteth from the city's side, + So early walking did I see your son. + Towards him I made; but he was ware of me + And stole into the covert of the wood. + I- measuring his affections by my own, + Which then most sought where most might not be found, + Being one too many by my weary self- + Pursu'd my humour, not Pursuing his, + And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. + Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, + With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, + Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; + But all so soon as the all-cheering sun + Should in the farthest East bean to draw + The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, + Away from light steals home my heavy son + And private in his chamber pens himself, + Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out + And makes himself an artificial night. + Black and portentous must this humour prove + Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him. + Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? + Mon. Both by myself and many other friends; + But he, his own affections' counsellor, + Is to himself- I will not say how true- + But to himself so secret and so close, + So far from sounding and discovery, + As is the bud bit with an envious worm + Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air + Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. + Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, + We would as willingly give cure as know. + + Enter Romeo. + + Ben. See, where he comes. So please you step aside, + I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. + Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay + To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away, + Exeunt [Montague and Wife]. + Ben. Good morrow, cousin. + Rom. Is the day so young? + Ben. But new struck nine. + Rom. Ah me! sad hours seem long. + Was that my father that went hence so fast? + Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? + Rom. Not having that which having makes them short. + Ben. In love? + Rom. Out- + Ben. Of love? + Rom. Out of her favour where I am in love. + Ben. Alas that love, so gentle in his view, + Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! + Rom. Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, + Should without eyes see pathways to his will! + Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? + Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. + Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. + Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! + O anything, of nothing first create! + O heavy lightness! serious vanity! + Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! + Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! + Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is + This love feel I, that feel no love in this. + Dost thou not laugh? + Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. + Rom. Good heart, at what? + Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. + Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. + Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, + Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest + With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown + Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. + Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; + Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; + Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears. + What is it else? A madness most discreet, + A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. + Farewell, my coz. + Ben. Soft! I will go along. + An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here: + This is not Romeo, he's some other where. + Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? + Rom. What, shall I groan and tell thee? + Ben. Groan? Why, no; + But sadly tell me who. + Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will. + Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill! + In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + Ben. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd. + Rom. A right good markman! And she's fair I love. + Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + Rom. Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit + With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, + And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, + From Love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. + She will not stay the siege of loving terms, + Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, + Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. + O, she's rich in beauty; only poor + That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. + Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; + For beauty, starv'd with her severity, + Cuts beauty off from all posterity. + She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, + To merit bliss by making me despair. + She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow + Do I live dead that live to tell it now. + Ben. Be rul'd by me: forget to think of her. + Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think! + Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes. + Examine other beauties. + Rom. 'Tis the way + To call hers (exquisite) in question more. + These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, + Being black puts us in mind they hide the fair. + He that is strucken blind cannot forget + The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. + Show me a mistress that is passing fair, + What doth her beauty serve but as a note + Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? + Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget. + Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +A Street. + +Enter Capulet, County Paris, and [Servant] -the Clown. + + Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, + In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, + For men so old as we to keep the peace. + Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both, + And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long. + But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? + Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: + My child is yet a stranger in the world, + She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; + Let two more summers wither in their pride + Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. + Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. + The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she; + She is the hopeful lady of my earth. + But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart; + My will to her consent is but a part. + An she agree, within her scope of choice + Lies my consent and fair according voice. + This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, + Whereto I have invited many a guest, + Such as I love; and you among the store, + One more, most welcome, makes my number more. + At my poor house look to behold this night + Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. + Such comfort as do lusty young men feel + When well apparell'd April on the heel + Of limping Winter treads, even such delight + Among fresh female buds shall you this night + Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, + And like her most whose merit most shall be; + Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, + May stand in number, though in reck'ning none. + Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving him a paper] Go, +sirrah, + trudge about + Through fair Verona; find those persons out + Whose names are written there, and to them say, + My house and welcome on their pleasure stay- + Exeunt [Capulet and Paris]. + Serv. Find them out whose names are written here? It is written + that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor + with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter +with + his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are + here writ, and can never find what names the writing person +hath + here writ. I must to the learned. In good time! + + Enter Benvolio and Romeo. + + Ben. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; + One pain is lessened by another's anguish; + Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; + One desperate grief cures with another's languish. + Take thou some new infection to thy eye, + And the rank poison of the old will die. + Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. + Ben. For what, I pray thee? + Rom. For your broken shin. + Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; + Shut up in prison, kept without my food, + Whipp'd and tormented and- God-den, good fellow. + Serv. God gi' go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can +you + read anything you see? + Rom. Ay, If I know the letters and the language. + Serv. Ye say honestly. Rest you merry! + Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. He reads. + + 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; + County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; + The lady widow of Vitruvio; + Signior Placentio and His lovely nieces; + Mercutio and his brother Valentine; + Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; + My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; + Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; + Lucio and the lively Helena.' + + [Gives back the paper.] A fair assembly. Whither should they +come? + Serv. Up. + Rom. Whither? + Serv. To supper, to our house. + Rom. Whose house? + Serv. My master's. + Rom. Indeed I should have ask'd you that before. + Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great +rich + Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray +come + and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! Exit. + Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's + Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; + With all the admired beauties of Verona. + Go thither, and with unattainted eye + Compare her face with some that I shall show, + And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye + Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; + And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, + Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! + One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun + Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. + Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, + Herself pois'd with herself in either eye; + But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd + Your lady's love against some other maid + That I will show you shining at this feast, + And she shall scant show well that now seems best. + Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, + But to rejoice in splendour of my own. [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene III. +Capulet's house. + +Enter Capulet's Wife, and Nurse. + + Wife. Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me. + Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old, + I bade her come. What, lamb! what ladybird! + God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! + + Enter Juliet. + + Jul. How now? Who calls? + Nurse. Your mother. + Jul. Madam, I am here. + What is your will? + Wife. This is the matter- Nurse, give leave awhile, + We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again; + I have rememb'red me, thou's hear our counsel. + Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age. + Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + Wife. She's not fourteen. + Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth- + And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four- + She is not fourteen. How long is it now + To Lammastide? + Wife. A fortnight and odd days. + Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, + Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. + Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls!) + Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; + She was too good for me. But, as I said, + On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; + That shall she, marry; I remember it well. + 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; + And she was wean'd (I never shall forget it), + Of all the days of the year, upon that day; + For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, + Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall. + My lord and you were then at Mantua. + Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, + When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple + Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, + To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! + Shake, quoth the dovehouse! 'Twas no need, I trow, + To bid me trudge. + And since that time it is eleven years, + For then she could stand alone; nay, by th' rood, + She could have run and waddled all about; + For even the day before, she broke her brow; + And then my husband (God be with his soul! + 'A was a merry man) took up the child. + 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? + Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; + Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidam, + The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay.' + To see now how a jest shall come about! + I warrant, an I should live a thousand yeas, + I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he, + And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said 'Ay.' + Wife. Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace. + Nurse. Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh + To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' + And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow + A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone; + A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly. + 'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? + Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; + Wilt thou not, Jule?' It stinted, and said 'Ay.' + Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. + Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! + Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd. + An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. + Wife. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme + I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, + How stands your disposition to be married? + Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. + Nurse. An honour? Were not I thine only nurse, + I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. + Wife. Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you, + Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, + Are made already mothers. By my count, + I was your mother much upon these years + That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: + The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man + As all the world- why he's a man of wax. + Wife. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. + Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith- a very flower. + Wife. What say you? Can you love the gentleman? + This night you shall behold him at our feast. + Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, + And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; + Examine every married lineament, + And see how one another lends content; + And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies + Find written in the margent of his eyes, + This precious book of love, this unbound lover, + To beautify him only lacks a cover. + The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride + For fair without the fair within to hide. + That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, + That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; + So shall you share all that he doth possess, + By having him making yourself no less. + Nurse. No less? Nay, bigger! Women grow by men + Wife. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? + Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move; + But no more deep will I endart mine eye + Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + + Enter Servingman. + + Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd up, you call'd, +my + young lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and + everything in extremity. I must hence to wait. I beseech you + follow straight. + Wife. We follow thee. Exit [Servingman]. + Juliet, the County stays. + Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +A street. + +Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers; +Torchbearers. + + Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? + Or shall we on without apology? + Ben. The date is out of such prolixity. + We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, + Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, + Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper; + Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke + After the prompter, for our entrance; + But, let them measure us by what they will, + We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. + Rom. Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. + Being but heavy, I will bear the light. + Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + Rom. Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes + With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead + So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + Mer. You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings + And soar with them above a common bound. + Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft + To soar with his light feathers; and so bound + I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. + Under love's heavy burthen do I sink. + Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burthen love- + Too great oppression for a tender thing. + Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, + Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn. + Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love. + Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. + Give me a case to put my visage in. + A visor for a visor! What care I + What curious eye doth quote deformities? + Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. + Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in + But every man betake him to his legs. + Rom. A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart + Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; + For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, + I'll be a candle-holder and look on; + The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. + Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word! + If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire + Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st + Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! + Rom. Nay, that's not so. + Mer. I mean, sir, in delay + We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. + Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits + Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + Rom. And we mean well, in going to this masque; + But 'tis no wit to go. + Mer. Why, may one ask? + Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. + Mer. And so did I. + Rom. Well, what was yours? + Mer. That dreamers often lie. + Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + Mer. O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. + She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes + In shape no bigger than an agate stone + On the forefinger of an alderman, + Drawn with a team of little atomies + Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; + Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, + The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; + Her traces, of the smallest spider's web; + Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; + Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; + Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, + Not half so big as a round little worm + Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; + Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, + Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, + Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. + And in this state she gallops night by night + Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; + O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on cursies straight; + O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; + O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, + Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, + Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. + Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, + And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; + And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail + Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, + Then dreams he of another benefice. + Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, + And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, + Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, + Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon + Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, + And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two + And sleeps again. This is that very Mab + That plats the manes of horses in the night + And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs, + Which once untangled much misfortune bodes + This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, + That presses them and learns them first to bear, + Making them women of good carriage. + This is she- + Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! + Thou talk'st of nothing. + Mer. True, I talk of dreams; + Which are the children of an idle brain, + Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; + Which is as thin of substance as the air, + And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes + Even now the frozen bosom of the North + And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, + Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. + Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. + Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives + Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, + Shall bitterly begin his fearful date + With this night's revels and expire the term + Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, + By some vile forfeit of untimely death. + But he that hath the steerage of my course + Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen! + Ben. Strike, drum. + They march about the stage. [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene V. +Capulet's house. + +Servingmen come forth with napkins. + + 1. Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? + He shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! + 2. Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's +hands, + and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing. + 1. Serv. Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cubbert, +look + to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane and, as + thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and +Nell. + Anthony, and Potpan! + 2. Serv. Ay, boy, ready. + 1. Serv. You are look'd for and call'd for, ask'd for and +sought + for, in the great chamber. + 3. Serv. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys! + Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. Exeunt. + + Enter the Maskers, Enter, [with Servants,] Capulet, his Wife, + Juliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests + and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. + + Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes + Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you. + Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all + Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, + She I'll swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? + Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day + That I have worn a visor and could tell + A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, + Such as would please. 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone! + You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. + A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. + Music plays, and they dance. + More light, you knaves! and turn the tables up, + And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. + Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. + Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet, + For you and I are past our dancing days. + How long is't now since last yourself and I + Were in a mask? + 2. Cap. By'r Lady, thirty years. + Cap. What, man? 'Tis not so much, 'tis not so much! + 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, + Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, + Some five-and-twenty years, and then we mask'd. + 2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more! His son is elder, sir; + His son is thirty. + Cap. Will you tell me that? + His son was but a ward two years ago. + Rom. [to a Servingman] What lady's that, which doth enrich the +hand + Of yonder knight? + Serv. I know not, sir. + Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! + It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night + Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear- + Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! + So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows + As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. + The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand + And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. + Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! + For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. + Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague. + Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave + Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, + To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? + Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, + To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. + Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? + Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; + A villain, that is hither come in spite + To scorn at our solemnity this night. + Cap. Young Romeo is it? + Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. + Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone. + 'A bears him like a portly gentleman, + And, to say truth, Verona brags of him + To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. + I would not for the wealth of all this town + Here in my house do him disparagement. + Therefore be patient, take no note of him. + It is my will; the which if thou respect, + Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, + An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + Tyb. It fits when such a villain is a guest. + I'll not endure him. + Cap. He shall be endur'd. + What, goodman boy? I say he shall. Go to! + Am I the master here, or you? Go to! + You'll not endure him? God shall mend my soul! + You'll make a mutiny among my guests! + You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! + Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. + Cap. Go to, go to! + You are a saucy boy. Is't so, indeed? + This trick may chance to scathe you. I know what. + You must contrary me! Marry, 'tis time.- + Well said, my hearts!- You are a princox- go! + Be quiet, or- More light, more light!- For shame! + I'll make you quiet; what!- Cheerly, my hearts! + Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting + Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. + I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall, + Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt'rest gall. Exit. + Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand + This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: + My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand + To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. + Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, + Which mannerly devotion shows in this; + For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, + And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. + Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray'r. + Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! + They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. + Rom. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. + Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd. [Kisses her.] + Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! + Give me my sin again. [Kisses her.] + Jul. You kiss by th' book. + Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + Rom. What is her mother? + Nurse. Marry, bachelor, + Her mother is the lady of the house. + And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. + I nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal. + I tell you, he that can lay hold of her + Shall have the chinks. + Rom. Is she a Capulet? + O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. + Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. + Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; + We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. + Is it e'en so? Why then, I thank you all. + I thank you, honest gentlemen. Good night. + More torches here! [Exeunt Maskers.] Come on then, let's to +bed. + Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late; + I'll to my rest. + Exeunt [all but Juliet and Nurse]. + Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? + Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. + Jul. What's he that now is going out of door? + Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. + Jul. What's he that follows there, that would not dance? + Nurse. I know not. + Jul. Go ask his name.- If he be married, + My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague, + The only son of your great enemy. + Jul. My only love, sprung from my only hate! + Too early seen unknown, and known too late! + Prodigious birth of love it is to me + That I must love a loathed enemy. + Nurse. What's this? what's this? + Jul. A rhyme I learnt even now + Of one I danc'd withal. + One calls within, 'Juliet.' + Nurse. Anon, anon! + Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. Exeunt. + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +PROLOGUE + +Enter Chorus. + + Chor. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, + And young affection gapes to be his heir; + That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, + With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. + Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, + Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; + But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, + And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks. + Being held a foe, he may not have access + To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, + And she as much in love, her means much less + To meet her new beloved anywhere; + But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, + Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. +Exit. + + + + +ACT II. Scene I. +A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Romeo alone. + + Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here? + Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + [Climbs the wall and leaps down within it.] + + Enter Benvolio with Mercutio. + + Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! Romeo! + Mer. He is wise, + And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed. + Ben. He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. + Call, good Mercutio. + Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. + Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! + Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh; + Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied! + Cry but 'Ah me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove'; + Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, + One nickname for her purblind son and heir, + Young auburn Cupid, he that shot so trim + When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar maid! + He heareth not, he stirreth not, be moveth not; + The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. + I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes. + By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, + By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, + And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, + That in thy likeness thou appear to us! + Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + Mer. This cannot anger him. 'Twould anger him + To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle + Of some strange nature, letting it there stand + Till she had laid it and conjur'd it down. + That were some spite; my invocation + Is fair and honest: in his mistress' name, + I conjure only but to raise up him. + Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees + To be consorted with the humorous night. + Blind is his love and best befits the dark. + Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. + Now will he sit under a medlar tree + And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit + As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. + O, Romeo, that she were, O that she were + An open et cetera, thou a pop'rin pear! + Romeo, good night. I'll to my truckle-bed; + This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. + Come, shall we go? + Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain + 'To seek him here that means not to be found. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Romeo. + + Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. + + Enter Juliet above at a window. + + But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? + It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! + Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, + Who is already sick and pale with grief + That thou her maid art far more fair than she. + Be not her maid, since she is envious. + Her vestal livery is but sick and green, + And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. + It is my lady; O, it is my love! + O that she knew she were! + She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? + Her eye discourses; I will answer it. + I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks. + Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, + Having some business, do entreat her eyes + To twinkle in their spheres till they return. + What if her eyes were there, they in her head? + The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars + As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven + Would through the airy region stream so bright + That birds would sing and think it were not night. + See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! + O that I were a glove upon that hand, + That I might touch that cheek! + Jul. Ah me! + Rom. She speaks. + O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art + As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, + As is a winged messenger of heaven + Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes + Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him + When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds + And sails upon the bosom of the air. + Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? + Deny thy father and refuse thy name! + Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, + And I'll no longer be a Capulet. + Rom. [aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? + Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. + Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. + What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, + Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part + Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! + What's in a name? That which we call a rose + By any other name would smell as sweet. + So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, + Retain that dear perfection which he owes + Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; + And for that name, which is no part of thee, + Take all myself. + Rom. I take thee at thy word. + Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; + Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + Jul. What man art thou that, thus bescreen'd in night, + So stumblest on my counsel? + Rom. By a name + I know not how to tell thee who I am. + My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, + Because it is an enemy to thee. + Had I it written, I would tear the word. + Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words + Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound. + Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? + Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. + Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? + The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, + And the place death, considering who thou art, + If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; + For stony limits cannot hold love out, + And what love can do, that dares love attempt. + Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. + Jul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee. + Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye + Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet, + And I am proof against their enmity. + Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. + Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; + And but thou love me, let them find me here. + My life were better ended by their hate + Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? + Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire. + He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. + I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far + As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, + I would adventure for such merchandise. + Jul. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face; + Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek + For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. + Fain would I dwell on form- fain, fain deny + What I have spoke; but farewell compliment! + Dost thou love me, I know thou wilt say 'Ay'; + And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st, + Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries, + They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, + If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. + Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, + I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, + So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. + In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, + And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light; + But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true + Than those that have more cunning to be strange. + I should have been more strange, I must confess, + But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, + My true-love passion. Therefore pardon me, + And not impute this yielding to light love, + Which the dark night hath so discovered. + Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, + That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops- + Jul. O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, + That monthly changes in her circled orb, + Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + Rom. What shall I swear by? + Jul. Do not swear at all; + Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, + Which is the god of my idolatry, + And I'll believe thee. + Rom. If my heart's dear love- + Jul. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, + I have no joy of this contract to-night. + It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; + Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be + Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! + This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, + May prove a beauteous flow'r when next we meet. + Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest + Come to thy heart as that within my breast! + Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? + Rom. Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. + Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; + And yet I would it were to give again. + Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? + Jul. But to be frank and give it thee again. + And yet I wish but for the thing I have. + My bounty is as boundless as the sea, + My love as deep; the more I give to thee, + The more I have, for both are infinite. + I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! + [Nurse] calls within. + Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. + Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.] + Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, + Being in night, all this is but a dream, + Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. + + Enter Juliet above. + + Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. + If that thy bent of love be honourable, + Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, + By one that I'll procure to come to thee, + Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; + And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay + And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + Nurse. (within) Madam! + Jul. I come, anon.- But if thou meanest not well, + I do beseech thee- + Nurse. (within) Madam! + Jul. By-and-by I come.- + To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief. + To-morrow will I send. + Rom. So thrive my soul- + Jul. A thousand times good night! Exit. + Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light! + Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books; + But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. + + Enter Juliet again, [above]. + + Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer's voice + To lure this tassel-gentle back again! + Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud; + Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, + And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine + With repetition of my Romeo's name. + Romeo! + Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name. + How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, + Like softest music to attending ears! + Jul. Romeo! + Rom. My dear? + Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow + Shall I send to thee? + Rom. By the hour of nine. + Jul. I will not fail. 'Tis twenty years till then. + I have forgot why I did call thee back. + Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. + Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, + Rememb'ring how I love thy company. + Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, + Forgetting any other home but this. + Jul. 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone- + And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, + That lets it hop a little from her hand, + Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, + And with a silk thread plucks it back again, + So loving-jealous of his liberty. + Rom. I would I were thy bird. + Jul. Sweet, so would I. + Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. + Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, + That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + [Exit.] + Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! + Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! + Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, + His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. + Exit + + + + +Scene III. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar, [Laurence] alone, with a basket. + + Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, + Check'ring the Eastern clouds with streaks of light; + And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels + From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels. + Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye + The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, + I must up-fill this osier cage of ours + With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. + The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb. + What is her burying gave, that is her womb; + And from her womb children of divers kind + We sucking on her natural bosom find; + Many for many virtues excellent, + None but for some, and yet all different. + O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies + In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities; + For naught so vile that on the earth doth live + But to the earth some special good doth give; + Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, + Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. + Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, + And vice sometime's by action dignified. + Within the infant rind of this small flower + Poison hath residence, and medicine power; + For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; + Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. + Two such opposed kings encamp them still + In man as well as herbs- grace and rude will; + And where the worser is predominant, + Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + + Enter Romeo. + + Rom. Good morrow, father. + Friar. Benedicite! + What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? + Young son, it argues a distempered head + So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. + Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, + And where care lodges sleep will never lie; + But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain + Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. + Therefore thy earliness doth me assure + Thou art uprous'd with some distemp'rature; + Or if not so, then here I hit it right- + Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. + Rom. That last is true-the sweeter rest was mine. + Friar. God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline? + Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No. + I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. + Friar. That's my good son! But where hast thou been then? + Rom. I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. + I have been feasting with mine enemy, + Where on a sudden one hath wounded me + That's by me wounded. Both our remedies + Within thy help and holy physic lies. + I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, + My intercession likewise steads my foe. + Friar. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift + Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + Rom. Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set + On the fair daughter of rich Capulet; + As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, + And all combin'd, save what thou must combine + By holy marriage. When, and where, and how + We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, + I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, + That thou consent to marry us to-day. + Friar. Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! + Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, + So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies + Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. + Jesu Maria! What a deal of brine + Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! + How much salt water thrown away in waste, + To season love, that of it doth not taste! + The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, + Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears. + Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit + Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet. + If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, + Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline. + And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence then: + Women may fall when there's no strength in men. + Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. + Friar. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + Rom. And bad'st me bury love. + Friar. Not in a grave + To lay one in, another out to have. + Rom. I pray thee chide not. She whom I love now + Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. + The other did not so. + Friar. O, she knew well + Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. + But come, young waverer, come go with me. + In one respect I'll thy assistant be; + For this alliance may so happy prove + To turn your households' rancour to pure love. + Rom. O, let us hence! I stand on sudden haste. + Friar. Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +A street. + +Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. + + Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? + Came he not home to-night? + Ben. Not to his father's. I spoke with his man. + Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, + Torments him so that he will sure run mad. + Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, + Hath sent a letter to his father's house. + Mer. A challenge, on my life. + Ben. Romeo will answer it. + Mer. Any man that can write may answer a letter. + Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, +being + dared. + Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabb'd with a white + wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love song; the + very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's +butt-shaft; + and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? + Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? + Mer. More than Prince of Cats, I can tell you. O, he's the + courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing + pricksong-keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his + minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom! the very + butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist! a gentleman +of + the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, the + immortal passado! the punto reverse! the hay. + Ben. The what? + Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes- +these + new tuners of accent! 'By Jesu, a very good blade! a very +tall + man! a very good whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, + grandsir, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange + flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardona-mi's, who stand +so + much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old + bench? O, their bones, their bones! + + Enter Romeo. + + Ben. Here comes Romeo! here comes Romeo! + Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how +art + thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch +flowed + in. Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench (marry, she +had a + better love to berhyme her), Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gypsy, + Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, This be a gray eye or +so, + but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! There's a +French + salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit + fairly last night. + Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + Mer. The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive? + Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio. My business was great, and in such +a + case as mine a man may strain courtesy. + Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains +a + man to bow in the hams. + Rom. Meaning, to cursy. + Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. + Rom. A most courteous exposition. + Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + Rom. Pink for flower. + Mer. Right. + Rom. Why, then is my pump well-flower'd. + Mer. Well said! Follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out +thy + pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may + remain, after the wearing, solely singular. + Rom. O single-sold jest, solely singular for the singleness! + Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio! My wits faint. + Rom. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs! or I'll cry a match. + Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done; for +thou + hast more of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I am +sure, I + have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? + Rom. Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not +there + for the goose. + Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not! + Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp +sauce. + Rom. And is it not, then, well serv'd in to a sweet goose? + Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch + narrow to an ell broad! + Rom. I stretch it out for that word 'broad,' which, added to +the + goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. + Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now +art + thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou +art, by + art as well as by nature. For this drivelling love is like a + great natural that runs lolling up and down to hide his +bauble in + a hole. + Ben. Stop there, stop there! + Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd! I would have made it short; for I +was + come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to +occupy + the argument no longer. + Rom. Here's goodly gear! + + Enter Nurse and her Man [Peter]. + + Mer. A sail, a sail! + Ben. Two, two! a shirt and a smock. + Nurse. Peter! + Peter. Anon. + Nurse. My fan, Peter. + Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer +face of + the two. + Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + Mer. God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman. + Nurse. Is it good-den? + Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is +now + upon the prick of noon. + Nurse. Out upon you! What a man are you! + Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. + Nurse. By my troth, it is well said. 'For himself to mar,' +quoth + 'a? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the +young + Romeo? + Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you +have + found him than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest +of + that name, for fault of a worse. + Nurse. You say well. + Mer. Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i' faith! wisely, + wisely. + Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. + Ben. She will endite him to some supper. + Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! + Rom. What hast thou found? + Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is + something stale and hoar ere it be spent + He walks by them and sings. + + An old hare hoar, + And an old hare hoar, + Is very good meat in Lent; + But a hare that is hoar + Is too much for a score + When it hoars ere it be spent. + + Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner +thither. + Rom. I will follow you. + Mer. Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell, + [sings] lady, lady, lady. + Exeunt Mercutio, Benvolio. + Nurse. Marry, farewell! I Pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant +was + this that was so full of his ropery? + Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk and +will + speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. + Nurse. An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an +'a + were lustier than he is, and twenty such jacks; and if I +cannot, + I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his + flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must +stand + by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure! + Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure. If I had, my +weapon + should quickly have been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as +soon + as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the +law + on my side. + Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me + quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word; and, as I told +you, + my young lady bid me enquire you out. What she bid me say, I +will + keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead +her + into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross +kind of + behaviour, as they say; for the gentlewoman is young; and + therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were +an + ill thing to be off'red to any gentlewoman, and very weak +dealing. + Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto + thee- + Nurse. Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much. Lord, + Lord! she will be a joyful woman. + Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? Thou dost not mark me. + Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I +take + it, is a gentlemanlike offer. + Rom. Bid her devise + Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; + And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell + Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains. + Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny. + Rom. Go to! I say you shall. + Nurse. This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. + Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall. + Within this hour my man shall be with thee + And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, + Which to the high topgallant of my joy + Must be my convoy in the secret night. + Farewell. Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. + Farewell. Commend me to thy mistress. + Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. + Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse? + Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, + Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + Rom. I warrant thee my man's as true as steel. + Nurse. Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! + when 'twas a little prating thing- O, there is a nobleman in + town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, +good + soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I +anger + her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; +but + I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any +clout + in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both +with + a letter? + Rom. Ay, nurse; what of that? Both with an R. + Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the- No; I +know + it begins with some other letter; and she hath the prettiest + sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you +good + to hear it. + Rom. Commend me to thy lady. + Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo.] Peter! + Peter. Anon. + Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before, and apace. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Juliet. + + Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; + In half an hour she promis'd to return. + Perchance she cannot meet him. That's not so. + O, she is lame! Love's heralds should be thoughts, + Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams + Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. + Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, + And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. + Now is the sun upon the highmost hill + Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve + Is three long hours; yet she is not come. + Had she affections and warm youthful blood, + She would be as swift in motion as a ball; + My words would bandy her to my sweet love, + And his to me, + But old folks, many feign as they were dead- + Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. + + Enter Nurse [and Peter]. + + O God, she comes! O honey nurse, what news? + Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. + [Exit Peter.] + Jul. Now, good sweet nurse- O Lord, why look'st thou sad? + Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; + If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news + By playing it to me with so sour a face. + Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave awhile. + Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunce have I had! + Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news. + Nay, come, I pray thee speak. Good, good nurse, speak. + Nurse. Jesu, what haste! Can you not stay awhile? + Do you not see that I am out of breath? + Jul. How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath + To say to me that thou art out of breath? + The excuse that thou dost make in this delay + Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. + Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that. + Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance. + Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? + Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to + choose a man. Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better +than + any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand and a + foot, and a body, though they be not to be talk'd on, yet +they + are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll + warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve +God. + What, have you din'd at home? + Jul. No, no. But all this did I know before. + What says he of our marriage? What of that? + Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! + It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. + My back o' t' other side,- ah, my back, my back! + Beshrew your heart for sending me about + To catch my death with jauncing up and down! + Jul. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. + Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? + Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a +courteous, + and a kind, and a handsome; and, I warrant, a virtuous- Where +is + your mother? + Jul. Where is my mother? Why, she is within. + Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! + 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, + "Where is your mother?"' + Nurse. O God's Lady dear! + Are you so hot? Marry come up, I trow. + Is this the poultice for my aching bones? + Henceforward do your messages yourself. + Jul. Here's such a coil! Come, what says Romeo? + Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? + Jul. I have. + Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; + There stays a husband to make you a wife. + Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks: + They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. + Hie you to church; I must another way, + To fetch a ladder, by the which your love + Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark. + I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; + But you shall bear the burthen soon at night. + Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. + Jul. Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene VI. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar [Laurence] and Romeo. + + Friar. So smile the heavens upon this holy act + That after-hours with sorrow chide us not! + Rom. Amen, amen! But come what sorrow can, + It cannot countervail the exchange of joy + That one short minute gives me in her sight. + Do thou but close our hands with holy words, + Then love-devouring death do what he dare- + It is enough I may but call her mine. + Friar. These violent delights have violent ends + And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, + Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey + Is loathsome in his own deliciousness + And in the taste confounds the appetite. + Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; + Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. + + Enter Juliet. + + Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot + Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint. + A lover may bestride the gossamer + That idles in the wanton summer air, + And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. + Friar. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy + Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more + To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath + This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue + Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both + Receive in either by this dear encounter. + Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, + Brags of his substance, not of ornament. + They are but beggars that can count their worth; + But my true love is grown to such excess + cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + Friar. Come, come with me, and we will make short work; + For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone + Till Holy Church incorporate two in one. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +A public place. + +Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Men. + + Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire. + The day is hot, the Capulets abroad. + And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, + For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + Mer. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters +the + confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and +says + 'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the +second + cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. + Ben. Am I like such a fellow? + Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in + Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be + moved. + Ben. And what to? + Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, +for + one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a +man + that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou +hast. + Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no +other + reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an +eye + would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels +as + an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as + addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrell'd with a +man + for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog +that + hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a + tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with +another + for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt + tutor me from quarrelling! + Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should +buy + the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + Mer. The fee simple? O simple! + + Enter Tybalt and others. + + Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. + Mer. By my heel, I care not. + Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. + Gentlemen, good den. A word with one of you. + Mer. And but one word with one of us? + Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. + Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will +give me + occasion. + Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving? + Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo. + Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make + minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my + fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, +consort! + Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men. + Either withdraw unto some private place + And reason coldly of your grievances, + Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us. + Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. + I will not budge for no man's pleasure, + + Enter Romeo. + + Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man. + Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery. + Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower! + Your worship in that sense may call him man. + Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford + No better term than this: thou art a villain. + Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee + Doth much excuse the appertaining rage + To such a greeting. Villain am I none. + Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not. + Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries + That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. + Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee, + But love thee better than thou canst devise + Till thou shalt know the reason of my love; + And so good Capulet, which name I tender + As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. + Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! + Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws.] + Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk? + Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? + Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives. +That I + mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, + + dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out +of + his pitcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your +ears + ere it be out. + Tyb. I am for you. [Draws.] + Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + Mer. Come, sir, your passado! + [They fight.] + Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. + Gentlemen, for shame! forbear this outrage! + Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath + Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. + Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! + Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio in, and flies + [with his Followers]. + Mer. I am hurt. + A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. + Is he gone and hath nothing? + Ben. What, art thou hurt? + Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, 'tis enough. + Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. + [Exit Page.] + Rom. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much. + Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church +door; + but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me to-morrow, and you + shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this + world. A plague o' both your houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a + mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, +a + villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil + came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. + Rom. I thought all for the best. + Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, + Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! + They have made worms' meat of me. I have it, + And soundly too. Your houses! + [Exit. [supported by Benvolio]. + Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, + My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt + In my behalf- my reputation stain'd + With Tybalt's slander- Tybalt, that an hour + Hath been my kinsman. O sweet Juliet, + Thy beauty hath made me effeminate + And in my temper soft'ned valour's steel. + + Enter Benvolio. + + Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! + That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, + Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + Rom. This day's black fate on moe days doth depend; + This but begins the woe others must end. + + Enter Tybalt. + + Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + Rom. Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain? + Away to heaven respective lenity, + And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! + Now, Tybalt, take the 'villain' back again + That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul + Is but a little way above our heads, + Staying for thine to keep him company. + Either thou or I, or both, must go with him. + Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, + Shalt with him hence. + Rom. This shall determine that. + They fight. Tybalt falls. + Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! + The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. + Stand not amaz'd. The Prince will doom thee death + If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away! + Rom. O, I am fortune's fool! + Ben. Why dost thou stay? + Exit Romeo. + Enter Citizens. + + Citizen. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? + Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he? + Ben. There lies that Tybalt. + Citizen. Up, sir, go with me. + I charge thee in the Prince's name obey. + + Enter Prince [attended], Old Montague, Capulet, their Wives, + and [others]. + + Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + Ben. O noble Prince. I can discover all + The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. + There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, + That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + Cap. Wife. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! + O Prince! O husband! O, the blood is spill'd + Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, + For blood of ours shed blood of Montague. + O cousin, cousin! + Prince. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did stay. + Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink + How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal + Your high displeasure. All this- uttered + With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd- + Could not take truce with the unruly spleen + Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts + With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast; + Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, + And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats + Cold death aside and with the other sends + It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity + Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud, + 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and swifter than his tongue, + His agile arm beats down their fatal points, + And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm + An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life + Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; + But by-and-by comes back to Romeo, + Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, + And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I + Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain; + And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. + This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + Cap. Wife. He is a kinsman to the Montague; + Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. + Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, + And all those twenty could but kill one life. + I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give. + Romeo slew Tybalt; Romeo must not live. + Prince. Romeo slew him; he slew Mercutio. + Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + Mon. Not Romeo, Prince; he was Mercutio's friend; + His fault concludes but what the law should end, + The life of Tybalt. + Prince. And for that offence + Immediately we do exile him hence. + I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, + My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; + But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine + That you shall all repent the loss of mine. + I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; + Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses. + Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste, + Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. + Bear hence this body, and attend our will. + Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Juliet alone. + + Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, + Towards Phoebus' lodging! Such a wagoner + As Phaeton would whip you to the West + And bring in cloudy night immediately. + Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, + That runaway eyes may wink, and Romeo + Leap to these arms untalk'd of and unseen. + Lovers can see to do their amorous rites + By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, + It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, + Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, + And learn me how to lose a winning match, + Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods. + Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, + With thy black mantle till strange love, grown bold, + Think true love acted simple modesty. + Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; + For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night + Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back. + Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night; + Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, + Take him and cut him out in little stars, + And he will make the face of heaven so fine + That all the world will be in love with night + And pay no worship to the garish sun. + O, I have bought the mansion of a love, + But not possess'd it; and though I am sold, + Not yet enjoy'd. So tedious is this day + As is the night before some festival + To an impatient child that hath new robes + And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, + + Enter Nurse, with cords. + + And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks + But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. + Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords + That Romeo bid thee fetch? + Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. + [Throws them down.] + Jul. Ah me! what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands? + Nurse. Ah, weraday! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! + We are undone, lady, we are undone! + Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! + Jul. Can heaven be so envious? + Nurse. Romeo can, + Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo! + Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + Jul. What devil art thou that dost torment me thus? + This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. + Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,' + And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more + Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. + I am not I, if there be such an 'I'; + Or those eyes shut that make thee answer 'I.' + If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, 'no.' + Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, + (God save the mark!) here on his manly breast. + A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; + Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, + All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight. + Jul. O, break, my heart! poor bankrout, break at once! + To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty! + Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here, + And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! + Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! + O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman + That ever I should live to see thee dead! + Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary? + Is Romeo slaught'red, and is Tybalt dead? + My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord? + Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! + For who is living, if those two are gone? + Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; + Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. + Jul. O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? + Nurse. It did, it did! alas the day, it did! + Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! + Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? + Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! + Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! + Despised substance of divinest show! + Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st- + A damned saint, an honourable villain! + O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell + When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend + In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? + Was ever book containing such vile matter + So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell + In such a gorgeous palace! + Nurse. There's no trust, + No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, + All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. + Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae. + These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. + Shame come to Romeo! + Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue + For such a wish! He was not born to shame. + Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; + For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd + Sole monarch of the universal earth. + O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? + Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? + Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name + When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? + But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? + That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband. + Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring! + Your tributary drops belong to woe, + Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. + My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; + And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. + All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? + Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, + That murd'red me. I would forget it fain; + But O, it presses to my memory + Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds! + 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo- banished.' + That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' + Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death + Was woe enough, if it had ended there; + Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship + And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, + Why followed not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' + Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, + Which modern lamentation might have mov'd? + But with a rearward following Tybalt's death, + 'Romeo is banished'- to speak that word + Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, + All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished'- + There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, + In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. + Where is my father and my mother, nurse? + Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse. + Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent, + When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. + Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil'd, + Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd. + He made you for a highway to my bed; + But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. + Come, cords; come, nurse. I'll to my wedding bed; + And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! + Nurse. Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo + To comfort you. I wot well where he is. + Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night. + I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. + Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight + And bid him come to take his last farewell. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar [Laurence]. + + Friar. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. + Affliction is enanmour'd of thy parts, + And thou art wedded to calamity. + + Enter Romeo. + + Rom. Father, what news? What is the Prince's doom + What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand + That I yet know not? + Friar. Too familiar + Is my dear son with such sour company. + I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom. + Rom. What less than doomsday is the Prince's doom? + Friar. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips- + Not body's death, but body's banishment. + Rom. Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say 'death'; + For exile hath more terror in his look, + Much more than death. Do not say 'banishment.' + Friar. Hence from Verona art thou banished. + Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, + But purgatory, torture, hell itself. + Hence banished is banish'd from the world, + And world's exile is death. Then 'banishment' + Is death misterm'd. Calling death 'banishment,' + Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe + And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + Friar. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! + Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince, + Taking thy part, hath brush'd aside the law, + And turn'd that black word death to banishment. + This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. + Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here, + Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog + And little mouse, every unworthy thing, + Live here in heaven and may look on her; + But Romeo may not. More validity, + More honourable state, more courtship lives + In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize + On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand + And steal immortal blessing from her lips, + Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, + Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; + But Romeo may not- he is banished. + This may flies do, when I from this must fly; + They are free men, but I am banished. + And sayest thou yet that exile is not death? + Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, + No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, + But 'banished' to kill me- 'banished'? + O friar, the damned use that word in hell; + Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, + Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, + A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, + To mangle me with that word 'banished'? + Friar. Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak. + Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + Friar. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; + Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, + To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + Rom. Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy! + Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, + Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, + It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more. + Friar. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. + Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + Friar. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. + Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, + An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, + Doting like me, and like me banished, + Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, + And fall upon the ground, as I do now, + Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + Knock [within]. + Friar. Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself. + Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, + Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. Knock. + Friar. Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; + Thou wilt be taken.- Stay awhile!- Stand up; Knock. + Run to my study.- By-and-by!- God's will, + What simpleness is this.- I come, I come! Knock. + Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? What's your will? + Nurse. [within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. + I come from Lady Juliet. + Friar. Welcome then. + + Enter Nurse. + + Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, + Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? + Friar. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case, + Just in her case! + Friar. O woeful sympathy! + Piteous predicament! + Nurse. Even so lies she, + Blubb'ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering. + Stand up, stand up! Stand, an you be a man. + For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand! + Why should you fall into so deep an O? + Rom. (rises) Nurse- + Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. + Rom. Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her? + Doth not she think me an old murtherer, + Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy + With blood remov'd but little from her own? + Where is she? and how doth she! and what says + My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love? + Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; + And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, + And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, + And then down falls again. + Rom. As if that name, + Shot from the deadly level of a gun, + Did murther her; as that name's cursed hand + Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me, + In what vile part of this anatomy + Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack + The hateful mansion. [Draws his dagger.] + Friar. Hold thy desperate hand. + Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art; + Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote + The unreasonable fury of a beast. + Unseemly woman in a seeming man! + Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! + Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order, + I thought thy disposition better temper'd. + Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? + And slay thy lady that in thy life lives, + By doing damned hate upon thyself? + Why railest thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? + Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet + In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. + Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit, + Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, + And usest none in that true use indeed + Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. + Thy noble shape is but a form of wax + Digressing from the valour of a man; + Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, + Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; + Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, + Misshapen in the conduct of them both, + Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, + Is set afire by thine own ignorance, + And thou dismemb'red with thine own defence. + What, rouse thee, man! Thy Juliet is alive, + For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead. + There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, + But thou slewest Tybalt. There art thou happy too. + The law, that threat'ned death, becomes thy friend + And turns it to exile. There art thou happy. + A pack of blessings light upon thy back; + Happiness courts thee in her best array; + But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench, + Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love. + Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. + Go get thee to thy love, as was decreed, + Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her. + But look thou stay not till the watch be set, + For then thou canst not pass to Mantua, + Where thou shalt live till we can find a time + To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, + Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back + With twenty hundred thousand times more joy + Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. + Go before, nurse. Commend me to thy lady, + And bid her hasten all the house to bed, + Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. + Romeo is coming. + Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night + To hear good counsel. O, what learning is! + My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. + Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + Nurse. Here is a ring she bid me give you, sir. + Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. Exit. + Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this! + Friar. Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state: + Either be gone before the watch be set, + Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence. + Sojourn in Mantua. I'll find out your man, + And he shall signify from time to time + Every good hap to you that chances here. + Give me thy hand. 'Tis late. Farewell; good night. + Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, + It were a grief so brief to part with thee. + Farewell. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Capulet's house + +Enter Old Capulet, his Wife, and Paris. + + Cap. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily + That we have had no time to move our daughter. + Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, + And so did I. Well, we were born to die. + 'Tis very late; she'll not come down to-night. + I promise you, but for your company, + I would have been abed an hour ago. + Par. These times of woe afford no tune to woo. + Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. + Lady. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; + To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness. + Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender + Of my child's love. I think she will be rul'd + In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. + Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; + Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love + And bid her (mark you me?) on Wednesday next- + But, soft! what day is this? + Par. Monday, my lord. + Cap. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon. + Thursday let it be- a Thursday, tell her + She shall be married to this noble earl. + Will you be ready? Do you like this haste? + We'll keep no great ado- a friend or two; + For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, + It may be thought we held him carelessly, + Being our kinsman, if we revel much. + Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, + And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. + Cap. Well, get you gone. A Thursday be it then. + Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed; + Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. + Farewell, my lord.- Light to my chamber, ho! + Afore me, It is so very very late + That we may call it early by-and-by. + Good night. + Exeunt + + + + +Scene V. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft, at the Window. + + Jul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. + It was the nightingale, and not the lark, + That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear. + Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. + Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn; + No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks + Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East. + Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day + Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. + I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + Jul. Yond light is not daylight; I know it, I. + It is some meteor that the sun exhales + To be to thee this night a torchbearer + And light thee on the way to Mantua. + Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. + Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death. + I am content, so thou wilt have it so. + I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, + 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; + Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat + The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. + I have more care to stay than will to go. + Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. + How is't, my soul? Let's talk; it is not day. + Jul. It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away! + It is the lark that sings so out of tune, + Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. + Some say the lark makes sweet division; + This doth not so, for she divideth us. + Some say the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes; + O, now I would they had chang'd voices too, + Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, + Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day! + O, now be gone! More light and light it grows. + Rom. More light and light- more dark and dark our woes! + + Enter Nurse. + + Nurse. Madam! + Jul. Nurse? + Nurse. Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. + The day is broke; be wary, look about. + Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + [Exit.] + Rom. Farewell, farewell! One kiss, and I'll descend. + He goeth down. + Jul. Art thou gone so, my lord, my love, my friend? + I must hear from thee every day in the hour, + For in a minute there are many days. + O, by this count I shall be much in years + Ere I again behold my Romeo! + Rom. Farewell! + I will omit no opportunity + That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? + Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve + For sweet discourses in our time to come. + Jul. O God, I have an ill-divining soul! + Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, + As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. + Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. + Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. + Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! +Exit. + Jul. O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle. + If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him + That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune, + For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long + But send him back. + Lady. [within] Ho, daughter! are you up? + Jul. Who is't that calls? It is my lady mother. + Is she not down so late, or up so early? + What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? + + Enter Mother. + + Lady. Why, how now, Juliet? + Jul. Madam, I am not well. + Lady. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? + What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? + An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. + Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of love; + But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + Lady. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend + Which you weep for. + Jul. Feeling so the loss, + I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + Lady. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death + As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. + Jul. What villain, madam? + Lady. That same villain Romeo. + Jul. [aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.- + God pardon him! I do, with all my heart; + And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. + Lady. That is because the traitor murderer lives. + Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. + Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! + Lady. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not. + Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, + Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, + Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram + That he shall soon keep Tybalt company; + And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied. + Jul. Indeed I never shall be satisfied + With Romeo till I behold him- dead- + Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd. + Madam, if you could find out but a man + To bear a poison, I would temper it; + That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, + Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors + To hear him nam'd and cannot come to him, + To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt + Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him! + Lady. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. + But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy time. + What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + Lady. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; + One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, + Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy + That thou expects not nor I look'd not for. + Jul. Madam, in happy time! What day is that? + Lady. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn + The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, + The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, + Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + Jul. Now by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter too, + He shall not make me there a joyful bride! + I wonder at this haste, that I must wed + Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. + I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, + I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear + It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, + Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! + Lady. Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself, + And see how he will take it at your hands. + + Enter Capulet and Nurse. + + Cap. When the sun sets the air doth drizzle dew, + But for the sunset of my brother's son + It rains downright. + How now? a conduit, girl? What, still in tears? + Evermore show'ring? In one little body + Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind: + For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, + Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is + Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs, + Who, raging with thy tears and they with them, + Without a sudden calm will overset + Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife? + Have you delivered to her our decree? + Lady. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. + I would the fool were married to her grave! + Cap. Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. + How? Will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? + Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest, + Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought + So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + Jul. Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. + Proud can I never be of what I hate, + But thankful even for hate that is meant love. + Cap. How now, how now, choplogic? What is this? + 'Proud'- and 'I thank you'- and 'I thank you not'- + And yet 'not proud'? Mistress minion you, + Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, + But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next + To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, + Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. + Out, you green-sickness carrion I out, you baggage! + You tallow-face! + Lady. Fie, fie! what, are you mad? + Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, + Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! + I tell thee what- get thee to church a Thursday + Or never after look me in the face. + Speak not, reply not, do not answer me! + My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest + That God had lent us but this only child; + But now I see this one is one too much, + And that we have a curse in having her. + Out on her, hilding! + Nurse. God in heaven bless her! + You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + Cap. And why, my Lady Wisdom? Hold your tongue, + Good Prudence. Smatter with your gossips, go! + Nurse. I speak no treason. + Cap. O, God-i-god-en! + Nurse. May not one speak? + Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool! + Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, + For here we need it not. + Lady. You are too hot. + Cap. God's bread I it makes me mad. Day, night, late, early, + At home, abroad, alone, in company, + Waking or sleeping, still my care hath been + To have her match'd; and having now provided + A gentleman of princely parentage, + Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, + Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, + Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man- + And then to have a wretched puling fool, + A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, + To answer 'I'll not wed, I cannot love; + I am too young, I pray you pardon me'! + But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you. + Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. + Look to't, think on't; I do not use to jest. + Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: + An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; + An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, + For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, + Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. + Trust to't. Bethink you. I'll not be forsworn. Exit. + Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds + That sees into the bottom of my grief? + O sweet my mother, cast me not away! + Delay this marriage for a month, a week; + Or if you do not, make the bridal bed + In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + Lady. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word. + Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. Exit. + Jul. O God!- O nurse, how shall this be prevented? + My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven. + How shall that faith return again to earth + Unless that husband send it me from heaven + By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me. + Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems + Upon so soft a subject as myself! + What say'st thou? Hast thou not a word of joy? + Some comfort, nurse. + Nurse. Faith, here it is. + Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing + That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; + Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. + Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, + I think it best you married with the County. + O, he's a lovely gentleman! + Romeo's a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam, + Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye + As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, + I think you are happy in this second match, + For it excels your first; or if it did not, + Your first is dead- or 'twere as good he were + As living here and you no use of him. + Jul. Speak'st thou this from thy heart? + Nurse. And from my soul too; else beshrew them both. + Jul. Amen! + Nurse. What? + Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. + Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, + Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, + To make confession and to be absolv'd. + Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. Exit. + Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! + Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, + Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue + Which she hath prais'd him with above compare + So many thousand times? Go, counsellor! + Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. + I'll to the friar to know his remedy. + If all else fail, myself have power to die. Exit. + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar, [Laurence] and County Paris. + + Friar. On Thursday, sir? The time is very short. + Par. My father Capulet will have it so, + And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + Friar. You say you do not know the lady's mind. + Uneven is the course; I like it not. + Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, + And therefore have I little talk'd of love; + For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. + Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous + That she do give her sorrow so much sway, + And in his wisdom hastes our marriage + To stop the inundation of her tears, + Which, too much minded by herself alone, + May be put from her by society. + Now do you know the reason of this haste. + Friar. [aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.- + Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. + + Enter Juliet. + + Par. Happily met, my lady and my wife! + Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + Par. That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. + Jul. What must be shall be. + Friar. That's a certain text. + Par. Come you to make confession to this father? + Jul. To answer that, I should confess to you. + Par. Do not deny to him that you love me. + Jul. I will confess to you that I love him. + Par. So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, + Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. + Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. + Jul. The tears have got small victory by that, + For it was bad enough before their spite. + Par. Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report. + Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; + And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast sland'red it. + Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. + Are you at leisure, holy father, now, + Or shall I come to you at evening mass? + Friar. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. + My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + Par. God shield I should disturb devotion! + Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye. + Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss. Exit. + Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, + Come weep with me- past hope, past cure, past help! + Friar. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; + It strains me past the compass of my wits. + I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, + On Thursday next be married to this County. + Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, + Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. + If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help, + Do thou but call my resolution wise + And with this knife I'll help it presently. + God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; + And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo's seal'd, + Shall be the label to another deed, + Or my true heart with treacherous revolt + Turn to another, this shall slay them both. + Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, + Give me some present counsel; or, behold, + 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife + Shall play the empire, arbitrating that + Which the commission of thy years and art + Could to no issue of true honour bring. + Be not so long to speak. I long to die + If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. + Friar. Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope, + Which craves as desperate an execution + As that is desperate which we would prevent. + If, rather than to marry County Paris + Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, + Then is it likely thou wilt undertake + A thing like death to chide away this shame, + That cop'st with death himself to scape from it; + And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy. + Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, + From off the battlements of yonder tower, + Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk + Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears, + Or shut me nightly in a charnel house, + O'ercover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, + With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; + Or bid me go into a new-made grave + And hide me with a dead man in his shroud- + Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble- + And I will do it without fear or doubt, + To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. + Friar. Hold, then. Go home, be merry, give consent + To marry Paris. Wednesday is to-morrow. + To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; + Let not the nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. + Take thou this vial, being then in bed, + And this distilled liquor drink thou off; + When presently through all thy veins shall run + A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse + Shall keep his native progress, but surcease; + No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; + The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade + To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall + Like death when he shuts up the day of life; + Each part, depriv'd of supple government, + Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death; + And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death + Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours, + And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. + Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes + To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. + Then, as the manner of our country is, + In thy best robes uncovered on the bier + Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault + Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. + In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, + Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift; + And hither shall he come; and he and I + Will watch thy waking, and that very night + Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. + And this shall free thee from this present shame, + If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear + Abate thy valour in the acting it. + Jul. Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! + Friar. Hold! Get you gone, be strong and prosperous + In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed + To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + Jul. Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. + Farewell, dear father. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Capulet's house. + +Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Servingmen, + two or three. + + Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. + [Exit a Servingman.] + Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can +lick + their fingers. + Cap. How canst thou try them so? + Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own + fingers. Therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not +with + me. + Cap. Go, begone. + Exit Servingman. + We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. + What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? + Nurse. Ay, forsooth. + Cap. Well, be may chance to do some good on her. + A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. + + Enter Juliet. + + Nurse. See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + Cap. How now, my headstrong? Where have you been gadding? + Jul. Where I have learnt me to repent the sin + Of disobedient opposition + To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd + By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here + To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you! + Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you. + Cap. Send for the County. Go tell him of this. + I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. + Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell + And gave him what becomed love I might, + Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. + Cap. Why, I am glad on't. This is well. Stand up. + This is as't should be. Let me see the County. + Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. + Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar, + All our whole city is much bound to him. + Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet + To help me sort such needful ornaments + As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? + Mother. No, not till Thursday. There is time enough. + Cap. Go, nurse, go with her. We'll to church to-morrow. + Exeunt Juliet and Nurse. + Mother. We shall be short in our provision. + 'Tis now near night. + Cap. Tush, I will stir about, + And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. + Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her. + I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone. + I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho! + They are all forth; well, I will walk myself + To County Paris, to prepare him up + Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous light, + Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Juliet's chamber. + +Enter Juliet and Nurse. + + Jul. Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse, + I pray thee leave me to myself to-night; + For I have need of many orisons + To move the heavens to smile upon my state, + Which, well thou knowest, is cross and full of sin. + + Enter Mother. + + Mother. What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help? + Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries + As are behoveful for our state to-morrow. + So please you, let me now be left alone, + And let the nurse this night sit up with you; + For I am sure you have your hands full all + In this so sudden business. + Mother. Good night. + Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. + Exeunt [Mother and Nurse.] + Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. + I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins + That almost freezes up the heat of life. + I'll call them back again to comfort me. + Nurse!- What should she do here? + My dismal scene I needs must act alone. + Come, vial. + What if this mixture do not work at all? + Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? + No, No! This shall forbid it. Lie thou there. + Lays down a dagger. + What if it be a poison which the friar + Subtilly hath minist'red to have me dead, + Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd + Because he married me before to Romeo? + I fear it is; and yet methinks it should not, + For he hath still been tried a holy man. + I will not entertain so bad a thought. + How if, when I am laid into the tomb, + I wake before the time that Romeo + Come to redeem me? There's a fearful point! + Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, + To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, + And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? + Or, if I live, is it not very like + The horrible conceit of death and night, + Together with the terror of the place- + As in a vault, an ancient receptacle + Where for this many hundred years the bones + Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd; + Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, + Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say, + At some hours in the night spirits resort- + Alack, alack, is it not like that I, + So early waking- what with loathsome smells, + And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, + That living mortals, hearing them, run mad- + O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, + Environed with all these hideous fears, + And madly play with my forefathers' joints, + And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud, + And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone + As with a club dash out my desp'rate brains? + O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost + Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body + Upon a rapier's point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! + Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. + + She [drinks and] falls upon her bed within the curtains. + + + + +Scene IV. +Capulet's house. + +Enter Lady of the House and Nurse. + + Lady. Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse. + Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + + Enter Old Capulet. + + Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow'd, + The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock. + Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica; + Spare not for cost. + Nurse. Go, you cot-quean, go, + Get you to bed! Faith, you'll be sick to-morrow + For this night's watching. + Cap. No, not a whit. What, I have watch'd ere now + All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. + Lady. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; + But I will watch you from such watching now. + Exeunt Lady and Nurse. + Cap. A jealous hood, a jealous hood! + + Enter three or four [Fellows, with spits and logs and baskets. + + What is there? Now, fellow, + Fellow. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit Fellow.] Sirrah, fetch drier + logs. + Call Peter; he will show thee where they are. + Fellow. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs + And never trouble Peter for the matter. + Cap. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! + Thou shalt be loggerhead. [Exit Fellow.] Good faith, 'tis +day. + The County will be here with music straight, + For so he said he would. Play music. + I hear him near. + Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! + + Enter Nurse. + Go waken Juliet; go and trim her up. + I'll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste, + Make haste! The bridegroom he is come already: + Make haste, I say. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene V. +Juliet's chamber. + +[Enter Nurse.] + + Nurse. Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, +she. + Why, lamb! why, lady! Fie, you slug-abed! + Why, love, I say! madam! sweetheart! Why, bride! + What, not a word? You take your pennyworths now! + Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, + The County Paris hath set up his rest + That you shall rest but little. God forgive me! + Marry, and amen. How sound is she asleep! + I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam! + Ay, let the County take you in your bed! + He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? + [Draws aside the curtains.] + What, dress'd, and in your clothes, and down again? + I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady! + Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady's dead! + O weraday that ever I was born! + Some aqua-vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! + + Enter Mother. + + Mother. What noise is here? + Nurse. O lamentable day! + Mother. What is the matter? + Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day! + Mother. O me, O me! My child, my only life! + Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! + Help, help! Call help. + + Enter Father. + + Father. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. + Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd; she's dead! Alack the day! + Mother. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! + Cap. Ha! let me see her. Out alas! she's cold, + Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; + Life and these lips have long been separated. + Death lies on her like an untimely frost + Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + Nurse. O lamentable day! + Mother. O woful time! + Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, + Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. + + Enter Friar [Laurence] and the County [Paris], with Musicians. + + Friar. Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. + O son, the night before thy wedding day + Hath Death lain with thy wife. See, there she lies, + Flower as she was, deflowered by him. + Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; + My daughter he hath wedded. I will die + And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death's. + Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, + And doth it give me such a sight as this? + Mother. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! + Most miserable hour that e'er time saw + In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! + But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, + But one thing to rejoice and solace in, + And cruel Death hath catch'd it from my sight! + Nurse. O woe? O woful, woful, woful day! + Most lamentable day, most woful day + That ever ever I did yet behold! + O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! + Never was seen so black a day as this. + O woful day! O woful day! + Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! + Most detestable Death, by thee beguil'd, + By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! + O love! O life! not life, but love in death! + Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! + Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now + To murther, murther our solemnity? + O child! O child! my soul, and not my child! + Dead art thou, dead! alack, my child is dead, + And with my child my joys are buried! + Friar. Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion's cure lives not + In these confusions. Heaven and yourself + Had part in this fair maid! now heaven hath all, + And all the better is it for the maid. + Your part in her you could not keep from death, + But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. + The most you sought was her promotion, + For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd; + And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd + Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? + O, in this love, you love your child so ill + That you run mad, seeing that she is well. + She's not well married that lives married long, + But she's best married that dies married young. + Dry up your tears and stick your rosemary + On this fair corse, and, as the custom is, + In all her best array bear her to church; + For though fond nature bids us all lament, + Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. + Cap. All things that we ordained festival + Turn from their office to black funeral- + Our instruments to melancholy bells, + Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; + Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; + Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse; + And all things change them to the contrary. + Friar. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him; + And go, Sir Paris. Every one prepare + To follow this fair corse unto her grave. + The heavens do low'r upon you for some ill; + Move them no more by crossing their high will. + Exeunt. Manent Musicians [and Nurse]. + 1. Mus. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. + Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up! + For well you know this is a pitiful case. [Exit.] + 1. Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + + Enter Peter. + + Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease,' 'Heart's ease'! + O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' + 1. Mus. Why 'Heart's ease'? + Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is +full + of woe.' O, play me some merry dump to comfort me. + 1. Mus. Not a dump we! 'Tis no time to play now. + Pet. You will not then? + 1. Mus. No. + Pet. I will then give it you soundly. + 1. Mus. What will you give us? + Pet. No money, on my faith, but the gleek. I will give you the + minstrel. + 1. Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. + Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your +pate. + I will carry no crotchets. I'll re you, I'll fa you. Do you +note + me? + 1. Mus. An you re us and fa us, you note us. + 2. Mus. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + Pet. Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you with an +iron + wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. + + 'When griping grief the heart doth wound, + And doleful dumps the mind oppress, + Then music with her silver sound'- + + Why 'silver sound'? Why 'music with her silver sound'? + What say you, Simon Catling? + 1. Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? + 2. Mus. I say 'silver sound' because musicians sound for +silver. + Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? + 3. Mus. Faith, I know not what to say. + Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer. I will say for +you. It + is 'music with her silver sound' because musicians have no +gold + for sounding. + + 'Then music with her silver sound + With speedy help doth lend redress.' [Exit. + + 1. Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? + 2. Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here, tarry for the + mourners, and stay dinner. + Exeunt. + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +Mantua. A street. + +Enter Romeo. + + Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep + My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. + My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, + And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit + Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. + I dreamt my lady came and found me dead + (Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!) + And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips + That I reviv'd and was an emperor. + Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, + When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! + + Enter Romeo's Man Balthasar, booted. + + News from Verona! How now, Balthasar? + Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? + How doth my lady? Is my father well? + How fares my Juliet? That I ask again, + For nothing can be ill if she be well. + Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. + Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, + And her immortal part with angels lives. + I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault + And presently took post to tell it you. + O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, + Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + Rom. Is it e'en so? Then I defy you, stars! + Thou knowest my lodging. Get me ink and paper + And hire posthorses. I will hence to-night. + Man. I do beseech you, sir, have patience. + Your looks are pale and wild and do import + Some misadventure. + Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd. + Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do. + Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? + Man. No, my good lord. + Rom. No matter. Get thee gone + And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight. + Exit [Balthasar]. + Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. + Let's see for means. O mischief, thou art swift + To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! + I do remember an apothecary, + And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted + In tatt'red weeds, with overwhelming brows, + Culling of simples. Meagre were his looks, + Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; + And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, + An alligator stuff'd, and other skins + Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves + A beggarly account of empty boxes, + Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, + Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses + Were thinly scattered, to make up a show. + Noting this penury, to myself I said, + 'An if a man did need a poison now + Whose sale is present death in Mantua, + Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' + O, this same thought did but forerun my need, + And this same needy man must sell it me. + As I remember, this should be the house. + Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. What, ho! +apothecary! + + Enter Apothecary. + + Apoth. Who calls so loud? + Rom. Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor. + Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have + A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear + As will disperse itself through all the veins + That the life-weary taker mall fall dead, + And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath + As violently as hasty powder fir'd + Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. + Apoth. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law + Is death to any he that utters them. + Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness + And fearest to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, + Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, + Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back: + The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law; + The world affords no law to make thee rich; + Then be not poor, but break it and take this. + Apoth. My poverty but not my will consents. + Rom. I pay thy poverty and not thy will. + Apoth. Put this in any liquid thing you will + And drink it off, and if you had the strength + Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. + Rom. There is thy gold- worse poison to men's souls, + Doing more murther in this loathsome world, + Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. + I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. + Farewell. Buy food and get thyself in flesh. + Come, cordial and not poison, go with me + To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Verona. Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar John to Friar Laurence. + + John. Holy Franciscan friar, brother, ho! + + Enter Friar Laurence. + + Laur. This same should be the voice of Friar John. + Welcome from Mantua. What says Romeo? + Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + John. Going to find a barefoot brother out, + One of our order, to associate me + Here in this city visiting the sick, + And finding him, the searchers of the town, + Suspecting that we both were in a house + Where the infectious pestilence did reign, + Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth, + So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. + Laur. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? + John. I could not send it- here it is again- + Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, + So fearful were they of infection. + Laur. Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood, + The letter was not nice, but full of charge, + Of dear import; and the neglecting it + May do much danger. Friar John, go hence, + Get me an iron crow and bring it straight + Unto my cell. + John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. Exit. + Laur. Now, must I to the monument alone. + Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. + She will beshrew me much that Romeo + Hath had no notice of these accidents; + But I will write again to Mantua, + And keep her at my cell till Romeo come- + Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Verona. A churchyard; in it the monument of the Capulets. + +Enter Paris and his Page with flowers and [a torch]. + + Par. Give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof. + Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. + Under yond yew tree lay thee all along, + Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground. + So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread + (Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves) + But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me, + As signal that thou hear'st something approach. + Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + Page. [aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone + Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. [Retires.] + Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew + (O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones) + Which with sweet water nightly I will dew; + Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans. + The obsequies that I for thee will keep + Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. + Whistle Boy. + The boy gives warning something doth approach. + What cursed foot wanders this way to-night + To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? + What, with a torch? Muffle me, night, awhile. [Retires.] + + Enter Romeo, and Balthasar with a torch, a mattock, + and a crow of iron. + + Rom. Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. + Hold, take this letter. Early in the morning + See thou deliver it to my lord and father. + Give me the light. Upon thy life I charge thee, + Whate'er thou hearest or seest, stand all aloof + And do not interrupt me in my course. + Why I descend into this bed of death + Is partly to behold my lady's face, + But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger + A precious ring- a ring that I must use + In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone. + But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry + In what I farther shall intend to do, + By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint + And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. + The time and my intents are savage-wild, + More fierce and more inexorable far + Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that. + Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. + Bal. [aside] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout. + His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.] + Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, + Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, + Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, + And in despite I'll cram thee with more food. + Romeo opens the tomb. + Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague + That murd'red my love's cousin- with which grief + It is supposed the fair creature died- + And here is come to do some villanous shame + To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. + Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague! + Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? + Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. + Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. + Rom. I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. + Good gentle youth, tempt not a desp'rate man. + Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone; + Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, + Put not another sin upon my head + By urging me to fury. O, be gone! + By heaven, I love thee better than myself, + For I come hither arm'd against myself. + Stay not, be gone. Live, and hereafter say + A madman's mercy bid thee run away. + Par. I do defy thy conjuration + And apprehend thee for a felon here. + Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy! + They fight. + Page. O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + [Exit. Paris falls.] + Par. O, I am slain! If thou be merciful, + Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.] + Rom. In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. + Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! + What said my man when my betossed soul + Did not attend him as we rode? I think + He told me Paris should have married Juliet. + Said he not so? or did I dream it so? + Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet + To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, + One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! + I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave. + A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth, + For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes + This vault a feasting presence full of light. + Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. + [Lays him in the tomb.] + How oft when men are at the point of death + Have they been merry! which their keepers call + A lightning before death. O, how may I + Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! + Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, + Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. + Thou art not conquer'd. Beauty's ensign yet + Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, + And death's pale flag is not advanced there. + Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? + O, what more favour can I do to thee + Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain + To sunder his that was thine enemy? + Forgive me, cousin. Ah, dear Juliet, + Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe + That unsubstantial Death is amorous, + And that the lean abhorred monster keeps + Thee here in dark to be his paramour? + For fear of that I still will stay with thee + And never from this palace of dim night + Depart again. Here, here will I remain + With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here + Will I set up my everlasting rest + And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars + From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! + Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you + The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss + A dateless bargain to engrossing death! + Come, bitter conduct; come, unsavoury guide! + Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on + The dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark! + Here's to my love! [Drinks.] O true apothecary! + Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. Falls. + + Enter Friar [Laurence], with lanthorn, crow, and spade. + + Friar. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night + Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? + Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + Friar. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, + What torch is yond that vainly lends his light + To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, + It burneth in the Capels' monument. + Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, + One that you love. + Friar. Who is it? + Bal. Romeo. + Friar. How long hath he been there? + Bal. Full half an hour. + Friar. Go with me to the vault. + Bal. I dare not, sir. + My master knows not but I am gone hence, + And fearfully did menace me with death + If I did stay to look on his intents. + Friar. Stay then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me. + O, much I fear some ill unthrifty thing. + Bal. As I did sleep under this yew tree here, + I dreamt my master and another fought, + And that my master slew him. + Friar. Romeo! + Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains + The stony entrance of this sepulchre? + What mean these masterless and gory swords + To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? [Enters the tomb.] + Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? + And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour + Is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs. + Juliet rises. + Jul. O comfortable friar! where is my lord? + I do remember well where I should be, + And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + Friar. I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest + Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. + A greater power than we can contradict + Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. + Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; + And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee + Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. + Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. + Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay. + Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. + Exit [Friar]. + What's here? A cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? + Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. + O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop + To help me after? I will kiss thy lips. + Haply some poison yet doth hang on them + To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.] + Thy lips are warm! + Chief Watch. [within] Lead, boy. Which way? + Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! + [Snatches Romeo's dagger.] + This is thy sheath; there rest, and let me die. + She stabs herself and falls [on Romeo's body]. + + Enter [Paris's] Boy and Watch. + + Boy. This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn. + Chief Watch. 'the ground is bloody. Search about the +churchyard. + Go, some of you; whoe'er you find attach. + [Exeunt some of the Watch.] + Pitiful sight! here lies the County slain; + And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, + Who here hath lain this two days buried. + Go, tell the Prince; run to the Capulets; + Raise up the Montagues; some others search. + [Exeunt others of the Watch.] + We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, + But the true ground of all these piteous woes + We cannot without circumstance descry. + + Enter [some of the Watch,] with Romeo's Man [Balthasar]. + + 2. Watch. Here's Romeo's man. We found him in the churchyard. + Chief Watch. Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither. + + Enter Friar [Laurence] and another Watchman. + + 3. Watch. Here is a friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps. + We took this mattock and this spade from him + As he was coming from this churchyard side. + Chief Watch. A great suspicion! Stay the friar too. + + Enter the Prince [and Attendants]. + + Prince. What misadventure is so early up, + That calls our person from our morning rest? + + Enter Capulet and his Wife [with others]. + + Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? + Wife. The people in the street cry 'Romeo,' + Some 'Juliet,' and some 'Paris'; and all run, + With open outcry, toward our monument. + Prince. What fear is this which startles in our ears? + Chief Watch. Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; + And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, + Warm and new kill'd. + Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + Chief Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man, + With instruments upon them fit to open + These dead men's tombs. + Cap. O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! + This dagger hath mista'en, for, lo, his house + Is empty on the back of Montague, + And it missheathed in my daughter's bosom! + Wife. O me! this sight of death is as a bell + That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + + Enter Montague [and others]. + + Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up + To see thy son and heir more early down. + Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night! + Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath. + What further woe conspires against mine age? + Prince. Look, and thou shalt see. + Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this, + To press before thy father to a grave? + Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, + Till we can clear these ambiguities + And know their spring, their head, their true descent; + And then will I be general of your woes + And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, + And let mischance be slave to patience. + Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + Friar. I am the greatest, able to do least, + Yet most suspected, as the time and place + Doth make against me, of this direful murther; + And here I stand, both to impeach and purge + Myself condemned and myself excus'd. + Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know in this. + Friar. I will be brief, for my short date of breath + Is not so long as is a tedious tale. + Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; + And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife. + I married them; and their stol'n marriage day + Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death + Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city; + For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd. + You, to remove that siege of grief from her, + Betroth'd and would have married her perforce + To County Paris. Then comes she to me + And with wild looks bid me devise some mean + To rid her from this second marriage, + Or in my cell there would she kill herself. + Then gave I her (so tutored by my art) + A sleeping potion; which so took effect + As I intended, for it wrought on her + The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo + That he should hither come as this dire night + To help to take her from her borrowed grave, + Being the time the potion's force should cease. + But he which bore my letter, Friar John, + Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight + Return'd my letter back. Then all alone + At the prefixed hour of her waking + Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; + Meaning to keep her closely at my cell + Till I conveniently could send to Romeo. + But when I came, some minute ere the time + Of her awaking, here untimely lay + The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. + She wakes; and I entreated her come forth + And bear this work of heaven with patience; + But then a noise did scare me from the tomb, + And she, too desperate, would not go with me, + But, as it seems, did violence on herself. + All this I know, and to the marriage + Her nurse is privy; and if aught in this + Miscarried by my fault, let my old life + Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time, + Unto the rigour of severest law. + Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man. + Where's Romeo's man? What can he say in this? + Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death; + And then in post he came from Mantua + To this same place, to this same monument. + This letter he early bid me give his father, + And threat'ned me with death, going in the vault, + If I departed not and left him there. + Prince. Give me the letter. I will look on it. + Where is the County's page that rais'd the watch? + Sirrah, what made your master in this place? + Boy. He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; + And bid me stand aloof, and so I did. + Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; + And by-and-by my master drew on him; + And then I ran away to call the watch. + Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words, + Their course of love, the tidings of her death; + And here he writes that he did buy a poison + Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal + Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. + Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montague, + See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, + That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! + And I, for winking at you, discords too, + Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish'd. + Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand. + This is my daughter's jointure, for no more + Can I demand. + Mon. But I can give thee more; + For I will raise her statue in pure gold, + That whiles Verona by that name is known, + There shall no figure at such rate be set + As that of true and faithful Juliet. + Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie- + Poor sacrifices of our enmity! + Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings. + The sun for sorrow will not show his head. + Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; + Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished; + For never was a story of more woe + Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. + Exeunt omnes. + +THE END + + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. 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