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+Title: Romeo and Juliet
+Author: William Shakespeare
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET
+
+by William Shakespeare
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+THE PROLOGUE.
+
+ACT I
+Scene I. A public place.
+Scene II. A Street.
+Scene III. Room in Capulet’s House.
+Scene IV. A Street.
+Scene V. A Hall in Capulet’s House.
+
+ACT II
+CHORUS.
+Scene I. An open place adjoining Capulet’s Garden.
+Scene II. Capulet’s Garden.
+Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+Scene IV. A Street.
+Scene V. Capulet’s Garden.
+Scene VI. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+
+ACT III
+Scene I. A public Place.
+Scene II. A Room in Capulet’s House.
+Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s cell.
+Scene IV. A Room in Capulet’s House.
+Scene V. An open Gallery to Juliet’s Chamber, overlooking the Garden.
+
+ACT IV
+Scene I. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+Scene II. Hall in Capulet’s House.
+Scene III. Juliet’s Chamber.
+Scene IV. Hall in Capulet’s House.
+Scene V. Juliet’s Chamber; Juliet on the bed.
+
+ACT V
+Scene I. Mantua. A Street.
+Scene II. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+Scene III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
+
+
+
+
+ Dramatis Personæ
+
+ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.
+MERCUTIO, kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo.
+PARIS, a young Nobleman, kinsman to the Prince.
+Page to Paris.
+
+MONTAGUE, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Capulets.
+LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague.
+ROMEO, son to Montague.
+BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo.
+ABRAM, servant to Montague.
+BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo.
+
+CAPULET, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Montagues.
+LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet.
+JULIET, daughter to Capulet.
+TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet.
+CAPULET’S COUSIN, an old man.
+NURSE to Juliet.
+PETER, servant to Juliet’s Nurse.
+SAMPSON, servant to Capulet.
+GREGORY, servant to Capulet.
+Servants.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE, a Franciscan.
+FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order.
+An Apothecary.
+CHORUS.
+Three Musicians.
+An Officer.
+Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses;
+Maskers, Guards, Watchmen and Attendants.
+
+SCENE. During the greater part of the Play in Verona; once, in the
+Fifth Act, at Mantua.
+
+
+
+
+THE PROLOGUE
+
+
+ Enter Chorus.
+
+CHORUS.
+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, nought 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._]
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+SCENE I. A public place.
+
+
+ Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers.
+
+SAMPSON.
+Gregory, on my word, we’ll not carry coals.
+
+GREGORY.
+No, for then we should be colliers.
+
+SAMPSON.
+I mean, if we be in choler, we’ll draw.
+
+GREGORY.
+Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar.
+
+SAMPSON.
+I strike quickly, being moved.
+
+GREGORY.
+But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
+
+SAMPSON.
+A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
+
+GREGORY.
+To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou
+art moved, thou runn’st away.
+
+SAMPSON.
+A dog of that house shall move me to stand.
+I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s.
+
+GREGORY.
+That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall.
+
+SAMPSON.
+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.
+
+GREGORY.
+The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
+
+SAMPSON.
+’Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the
+men I will be civil with the maids, I will cut off their heads.
+
+GREGORY.
+The heads of the maids?
+
+SAMPSON.
+Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense
+thou wilt.
+
+GREGORY.
+They must take it in sense that feel it.
+
+SAMPSON.
+Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and ’tis known I am a
+pretty piece of flesh.
+
+GREGORY.
+’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John.
+Draw thy tool; here comes of the house of Montagues.
+
+ Enter Abram and Balthasar.
+
+SAMPSON.
+My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
+
+GREGORY.
+How? Turn thy back and run?
+
+SAMPSON.
+Fear me not.
+
+GREGORY.
+No, marry; I fear thee!
+
+SAMPSON.
+Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
+
+GREGORY.
+I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.
+
+SAMPSON.
+Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is disgrace to
+them if they bear it.
+
+ABRAM.
+Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
+
+SAMPSON.
+I do bite my thumb, sir.
+
+ABRAM.
+Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
+
+SAMPSON.
+Is the law of our side if I say ay?
+
+GREGORY.
+No.
+
+SAMPSON.
+No sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.
+
+GREGORY.
+Do you quarrel, sir?
+
+ABRAM.
+Quarrel, sir? No, sir.
+
+SAMPSON.
+But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you.
+
+ABRAM.
+No better.
+
+SAMPSON.
+Well, sir.
+
+ Enter Benvolio.
+
+GREGORY.
+Say better; here comes one of my master’s kinsmen.
+
+SAMPSON.
+Yes, better, sir.
+
+ABRAM.
+You lie.
+
+SAMPSON.
+Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.
+
+ [_They fight._]
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Part, fools! put up your swords, you know not what you do.
+
+ [_Beats down their swords._]
+
+ Enter Tybalt.
+
+TYBALT.
+What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
+Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword,
+Or manage it to part these men with me.
+
+TYBALT.
+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 three or four Citizens with clubs.
+
+FIRST CITIZEN.
+Clubs, bills and partisans! Strike! Beat them down!
+Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!
+
+ Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady Capulet.
+
+CAPULET.
+What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?
+
+CAPULET.
+My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
+And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
+
+ Enter Montague and his Lady Montague.
+
+MONTAGUE.
+Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not, let me go.
+
+LADY MONTAGUE.
+Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
+
+ Enter Prince Escalus, with Attendants.
+
+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 mistemper’d 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,
+Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d 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 Free-town, our common judgement-place.
+Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
+
+ [_Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt,
+ Citizens and Servants._]
+
+MONTAGUE.
+Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
+Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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.
+
+LADY MONTAGUE.
+O where is Romeo, saw you him today?
+Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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 this city 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.
+
+MONTAGUE.
+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 begin 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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
+
+MONTAGUE.
+I neither know it nor can learn of him.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Have you importun’d him by any means?
+
+MONTAGUE.
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+See, where he comes. So please you step aside;
+I’ll know his grievance or be much denied.
+
+MONTAGUE.
+I would thou wert so happy by thy stay
+To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let’s away,
+
+ [_Exeunt Montague and Lady Montague._]
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Good morrow, cousin.
+
+ROMEO.
+Is the day so young?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+But new struck nine.
+
+ROMEO.
+Ay me, sad hours seem long.
+Was that my father that went hence so fast?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
+
+ROMEO.
+Not having that which, having, makes them short.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+In love?
+
+ROMEO.
+Out.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Of love?
+
+ROMEO.
+Out of her favour where I am in love.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Alas that love so gentle in his view,
+Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.
+
+ROMEO.
+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?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+No coz, I rather weep.
+
+ROMEO.
+Good heart, at what?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+At thy good heart’s oppression.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 made 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.
+
+ [_Going._]
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Soft! I will go along:
+And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
+
+ROMEO.
+Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here.
+This is not Romeo, he’s some other where.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Tell me in sadness who is that you love?
+
+ROMEO.
+What, shall I groan and tell thee?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Groan! Why, no; but sadly tell me who.
+
+ROMEO.
+Bid a sick man in sadness make his will,
+A word ill urg’d to one that is so ill.
+In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+I aim’d so near when I suppos’d you lov’d.
+
+ROMEO.
+A right good markman, and she’s fair I love.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 uncharm’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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Be rul’d by me, forget to think of her.
+
+ROMEO.
+O teach me how I should forget to think.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
+Examine other beauties.
+
+ROMEO.
+’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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+I’ll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE II. A Street.
+
+ Enter Capulet, Paris and Servant.
+
+CAPULET.
+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.
+
+PARIS.
+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?
+
+CAPULET.
+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.
+
+PARIS.
+Younger than she are happy mothers made.
+
+CAPULET.
+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;
+And 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 reckoning none.
+Come, go with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about
+Through fair Verona; find those persons out
+Whose names are written there, [_gives a paper_] and to them say,
+My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
+
+ [_Exeunt Capulet and Paris._]
+
+SERVANT.
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning,
+One pain is lessen’d 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+For what, I pray thee?
+
+ROMEO.
+For your broken shin.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+SERVANT.
+God gi’ go-den. I pray, sir, can you read?
+
+ROMEO.
+Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
+
+SERVANT.
+Perhaps you have learned it without book.
+But I pray, can you read anything you see?
+
+ROMEO.
+Ay, If I know the letters and the language.
+
+SERVANT.
+Ye say honestly, rest you merry!
+
+ROMEO.
+Stay, fellow; I can read.
+
+ [_He reads the letter._]
+
+_Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
+County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters;
+The lady widow of Utruvio;
+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. _
+
+
+A fair assembly. [_Gives back the paper_] Whither should they come?
+
+SERVANT.
+Up.
+
+ROMEO.
+Whither to supper?
+
+SERVANT.
+To our house.
+
+ROMEO.
+Whose house?
+
+SERVANT.
+My master’s.
+
+ROMEO.
+Indeed I should have ask’d you that before.
+
+SERVANT.
+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._]
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+When the devout religion of mine eye
+Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire;
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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 shows best.
+
+ROMEO.
+I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown,
+But to rejoice in splendour of my own.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE III. Room in Capulet’s House.
+
+ Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+How now, who calls?
+
+NURSE.
+Your mother.
+
+JULIET.
+Madam, I am here. What is your will?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+This is the matter. Nurse, give leave awhile,
+We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again,
+I have remember’d 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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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 Lammas-tide?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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 holidame,
+The pretty wretch left crying, and said ‘Ay’.
+To see now how a jest shall come about.
+I warrant, and I should live a thousand years,
+I never should forget it. ‘Wilt thou not, Jule?’ quoth he;
+And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said ‘Ay.’
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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 it brow
+A bump as big as a young cockerel’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’.
+
+JULIET.
+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:
+And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Marry, that marry is the very theme
+I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
+How stands your disposition to be married?
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Verona’s summer hath not such a flower.
+
+NURSE.
+Nay, he’s a flower, in faith a very flower.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Speak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love?
+
+JULIET.
+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 a Servant.
+
+SERVANT.
+Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady
+asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity.
+I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+We follow thee.
+
+ [_Exit Servant._]
+
+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 Maskers;
+ Torch-bearers and others.
+
+ROMEO.
+What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
+Or shall we on without apology?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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 crow-keeper;
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling;
+Being but heavy I will bear the light.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+You are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings,
+And soar with them above a common bound.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 burden do I sink.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
+Too great oppression for a tender thing.
+
+ROMEO.
+Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
+Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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: [_Putting on a mask._]
+A visor for a visor. What care I
+What curious eye doth quote deformities?
+Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in
+But every man betake him to his legs.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word:
+If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire
+Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest
+Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho.
+
+ROMEO.
+Nay, that’s not so.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+I mean sir, in delay
+We waste our lights in vain, light lights by day.
+Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
+Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
+
+ROMEO.
+And we mean well in going to this mask;
+But ’tis no wit to go.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Why, may one ask?
+
+ROMEO.
+I dreamt a dream tonight.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+And so did I.
+
+ROMEO.
+Well what was yours?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+That dreamers often lie.
+
+ROMEO.
+In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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 fore-finger of an alderman,
+Drawn with a team of little atomies
+Over men’s noses as they lie asleep:
+Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs;
+The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
+Her traces, of the smallest spider’s web;
+The collars, of the moonshine’s watery beams;
+Her whip of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film;
+Her waggoner, 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 curtsies 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:
+Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,
+And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
+Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades,
+Of healths five fathom 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 elf-locks 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,—
+
+ROMEO.
+Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace,
+Thou talk’st of nothing.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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 woos
+Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
+And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence,
+Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves:
+Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 suit. On, lusty gentlemen!
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Strike, drum.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet’s House.
+
+ Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.
+
+FIRST SERVANT.
+Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away?
+He shift a trencher! He scrape a trencher!
+
+SECOND SERVANT.
+When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s hands, and they
+unwash’d too, ’tis a foul thing.
+
+FIRST SERVANT.
+Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cupboard, 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. Antony and Potpan!
+
+SECOND SERVANT.
+Ay, boy, ready.
+
+FIRST SERVANT.
+You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the
+great chamber.
+
+SECOND SERVANT.
+We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys. Be brisk awhile, and
+the longer liver take all.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+ Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.
+
+CAPULET.
+Welcome, gentlemen, ladies that have their toes
+Unplagu’d with corns will have a bout with you.
+Ah 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?
+
+CAPULET’S COUSIN.
+By’r Lady, thirty years.
+
+CAPULET.
+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.
+
+CAPULET’S COUSIN.
+’Tis more, ’tis more, his son is elder, sir;
+His son is thirty.
+
+CAPULET.
+Will you tell me that?
+His son was but a ward two years ago.
+
+ROMEO.
+What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand
+Of yonder knight?
+
+SERVANT.
+I know not, sir.
+
+ROMEO.
+O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
+It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
+As 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.
+
+TYBALT.
+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.
+
+CAPULET.
+Why how now, kinsman!
+Wherefore storm you so?
+
+TYBALT.
+Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
+A villain that is hither come in spite,
+To scorn at our solemnity this night.
+
+CAPULET.
+Young Romeo, is it?
+
+TYBALT.
+’Tis he, that villain Romeo.
+
+CAPULET.
+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 the 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.
+
+TYBALT.
+It fits when such a villain is a guest:
+I’ll not endure him.
+
+CAPULET.
+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!
+
+TYBALT.
+Why, uncle, ’tis a shame.
+
+CAPULET.
+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.
+
+TYBALT.
+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 bitter gall.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+ROMEO.
+[_To Juliet._] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
+This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,
+My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
+To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
+
+JULIET.
+Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
+
+ROMEO.
+O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do:
+They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
+
+JULIET.
+Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.
+
+ROMEO.
+Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.
+Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg’d.
+[_Kissing her._]
+
+JULIET.
+Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
+
+ROMEO.
+Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d!
+Give me my sin again.
+
+JULIET.
+You kiss by the book.
+
+NURSE.
+Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Is she a Capulet?
+O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.
+
+ROMEO.
+Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
+
+CAPULET.
+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! 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._]
+
+JULIET.
+Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman?
+
+NURSE.
+The son and heir of old Tiberio.
+
+JULIET.
+What’s he that now is going out of door?
+
+NURSE.
+Marry, that I think be young Petruchio.
+
+JULIET.
+What’s he that follows here, that would not dance?
+
+NURSE.
+I know not.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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?
+
+JULIET.
+A rhyme I learn’d 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._]
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+ Enter Chorus.
+
+CHORUS.
+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,
+Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+SCENE I. An open place adjoining Capulet’s Garden.
+
+ Enter Romeo.
+
+ROMEO.
+Can I go forward when my heart is here?
+Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
+
+ [_He climbs the wall and leaps down within it._]
+
+ Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo!
+
+MERCUTIO.
+He is wise,
+And on my life hath stol’n him home to bed.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+He ran this way, and leap’d this orchard wall:
+Call, good Mercutio.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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 Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim
+When King Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid.
+He heareth not, he stirreth not, he 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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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, and, in his mistress’ name,
+I conjure only but to raise up him.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Come, he hath hid himself among these trees
+To be consorted with the humorous night.
+Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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-arse and thou a poperin pear!
+Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed.
+This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.
+Come, shall we go?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Go then; for ’tis in vain
+To seek him here that means not to be found.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE II. Capulet’s Garden.
+
+ Enter Romeo.
+
+ROMEO.
+He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
+
+ Juliet appears 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.
+
+JULIET.
+Ay me.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 wondering eyes
+Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
+When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds
+And sails upon the bosom of the air.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+[_Aside._] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
+
+JULIET.
+’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 thy name, which is no part of thee,
+Take all myself.
+
+ROMEO.
+I take thee at thy word.
+Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptis’d;
+Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
+
+JULIET.
+What man art thou that, thus bescreen’d in night
+So stumblest on my counsel?
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words
+Of thy tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound.
+Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
+
+ROMEO.
+Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 stop to me.
+
+JULIET.
+If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
+
+ROMEO.
+Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
+Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet,
+And I am proof against their enmity.
+
+JULIET.
+I would not for the world they saw thee here.
+
+ROMEO.
+I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes,
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+By whose direction found’st thou out this place?
+
+ROMEO.
+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 should adventure for such merchandise.
+
+JULIET.
+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 tonight.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow,
+That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,—
+
+JULIET.
+O swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon,
+That monthly changes in her circled orb,
+Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
+
+ROMEO.
+What shall I swear by?
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+If my heart’s dear love,—
+
+JULIET.
+Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,
+I have no joy of this contract tonight;
+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 flower when next we meet.
+Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest
+Come to thy heart as that within my breast.
+
+ROMEO.
+O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
+
+JULIET.
+What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?
+
+ROMEO.
+Th’exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.
+
+JULIET.
+I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
+And yet I would it were to give again.
+
+ROMEO.
+Would’st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?
+
+JULIET.
+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._]
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
+If that thy bent of love be honourable,
+Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow,
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+I come, anon.— But if thou meanest not well,
+I do beseech thee,—
+
+NURSE.
+[_Within._] Madam.
+
+JULIET.
+By and by I come—
+To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief.
+Tomorrow will I send.
+
+ROMEO.
+So thrive my soul,—
+
+JULIET.
+A thousand times good night.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+ [_Retiring slowly._]
+
+ Re-enter Juliet, above.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+It is my soul that calls upon my name.
+How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,
+Like softest music to attending ears.
+
+JULIET.
+Romeo.
+
+ROMEO.
+My nyas?
+
+JULIET.
+What o’clock tomorrow
+Shall I send to thee?
+
+ROMEO.
+By the hour of nine.
+
+JULIET.
+I will not fail. ’Tis twenty years till then.
+I have forgot why I did call thee back.
+
+ROMEO.
+Let me stand here till thou remember it.
+
+JULIET.
+I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
+Remembering how I love thy company.
+
+ROMEO.
+And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget,
+Forgetting any other home but this.
+
+JULIET.
+’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.
+
+ROMEO.
+I would I were thy bird.
+
+JULIET.
+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._]
+
+ROMEO.
+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 Sire’s cell,
+His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+
+ Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+The grey-ey’d morn smiles on the frowning night,
+Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
+And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels
+From forth day’s pathway, made by Titan’s fiery wheels
+Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
+The day to cheer, and night’s dank dew to dry,
+I must upfill 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 grave, 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.
+
+ Enter Romeo.
+
+Within the infant rind of this weak 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Good morrow, father.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Benedicite!
+What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
+Young son, it argues a distemper’d 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 distemperature;
+Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
+Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.
+
+ROMEO.
+That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+God pardon sin. Wast thou with Rosaline?
+
+ROMEO.
+With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No.
+I have forgot that name, and that name’s woe.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+That’s my good son. But where hast thou been then?
+
+ROMEO.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
+Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 today.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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 yet ring 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 ere 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Thou chidd’st me oft for loving Rosaline.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
+
+ROMEO.
+And bad’st me bury love.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Not in a grave
+To lay one in, another out to have.
+
+ROMEO.
+I pray thee chide me not, her I love now
+Doth grace for grace and love for love allow.
+The other did not so.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+O let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE IV. A Street.
+
+ Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so
+that he will sure run mad.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father’s
+house.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+A challenge, on my life.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Romeo will answer it.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Any man that can write may answer a letter.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Nay, he will answer the letter’s master, how he dares, being dared.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed with a white wench’s black
+eye; run 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?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Why, what is Tybalt?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+More than Prince of cats. O, he’s the courageous captain of
+compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance,
+and proportion. He rests 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 reverso, the hay.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+The what?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+The pox of such antic lisping, affecting phantasies; 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, grandsire, that we should
+be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers,
+these pardon-me’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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior
+Romeo, bonjour! There’s a French salutation to your French slop. You
+gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
+
+ROMEO.
+Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+The slip sir, the slip; can you not conceive?
+
+ROMEO.
+Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as
+mine a man may strain courtesy.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+That’s as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow
+in the hams.
+
+ROMEO.
+Meaning, to curtsy.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Thou hast most kindly hit it.
+
+ROMEO.
+A most courteous exposition.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
+
+ROMEO.
+Pink for flower.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Right.
+
+ROMEO.
+Why, then is my pump well flowered.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Sure wit, 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.
+
+ROMEO.
+Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I’ll cry a match.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Nay, if thy 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?
+
+ROMEO.
+Thou wast never with me for anything, when thou wast not there for the
+goose.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
+
+ROMEO.
+Nay, good goose, bite not.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting, it is a most sharp sauce.
+
+ROMEO.
+And is it not then well served in to a sweet goose?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+O here’s a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an
+ell broad.
+
+ROMEO.
+I stretch it out for that word broad, which added to the goose, proves
+thee far and wide a broad goose.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Stop there, stop there.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+O, thou art deceived; 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.
+
+ Enter Nurse and Peter.
+
+ROMEO.
+Here’s goodly gear!
+A sail, a sail!
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
+
+NURSE.
+Peter!
+
+PETER.
+Anon.
+
+NURSE.
+My fan, Peter.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan’s the fairer face.
+
+NURSE.
+God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.
+
+NURSE.
+Is it good-den?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+’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?
+
+ROMEO.
+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?
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i’faith; wisely, wisely.
+
+NURSE.
+If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+She will endite him to some supper.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
+
+ROMEO.
+What hast thou found?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something
+stale and hoar ere it be spent.
+[_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.
+
+ROMEO.
+I will follow you.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady.
+
+ [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._]
+
+NURSE.
+I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his
+ropery?
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+And a speak anything against me, I’ll take him down, and 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 bade me say, I will keep to myself. But first
+let me tell ye, if ye should lead her in 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 offered to any gentlewoman, and
+very weak dealing.
+
+ROMEO. 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Bid her devise
+Some means to come to shrift this afternoon,
+And there she shall at Friar Lawrence’ cell
+Be shriv’d and married. Here is for thy pains.
+
+NURSE.
+No truly, sir; not a penny.
+
+ROMEO.
+Go to; I say you shall.
+
+NURSE.
+This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+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?
+
+ROMEO.
+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 lief 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?
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Commend me to thy lady.
+
+NURSE.
+Ay, a thousand times. Peter!
+
+ [_Exit Romeo._]
+
+PETER.
+Anon.
+
+NURSE.
+Before and apace.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE V. Capulet’s Garden.
+
+ Enter Juliet.
+
+JULIET.
+The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse,
+In half an hour she promised 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 glides than the sun’s beams,
+Driving back shadows over lowering 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’d 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._]
+
+JULIET.
+Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st thou sad?
+Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
+If good, thou sham’st 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 jaunt have I had!
+
+JULIET.
+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 a while? Do you not see that I am
+out of breath?
+
+JULIET.
+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 talked 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 dined at home?
+
+JULIET.
+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,—O my back, my back!
+Beshrew your heart for sending me about
+To catch my death with jauncing up and down.
+
+JULIET.
+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?
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+Here’s such a coil. Come, what says Romeo?
+
+NURSE.
+Have you got leave to go to shrift today?
+
+JULIET.
+I have.
+
+NURSE.
+Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’ 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 burden soon at night.
+Go. I’ll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
+
+JULIET.
+Hie to high fortune! Honest Nurse, farewell.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE VI. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+
+ Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+So smile the heavens upon this holy act
+That after-hours with sorrow chide us not.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+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 gossamers
+That idles in the wanton summer air
+And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
+
+JULIET.
+Good even to my ghostly confessor.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
+
+JULIET.
+As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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,
+I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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._]
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+SCENE I. A public Place.
+
+
+ Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page and Servants.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Am I like such a fellow?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+And what to?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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
+quarrelled 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!
+
+BENVOLIO.
+And 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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+The fee simple! O simple!
+
+ Enter Tybalt and others.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+By my head, here comes the Capulets.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+By my heel, I care not.
+
+TYBALT.
+Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
+Gentlemen, good-den: a word with one of you.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a
+word and a blow.
+
+TYBALT.
+You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, and you will give me
+occasion.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Could you not take some occasion without giving?
+
+TYBALT.
+Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? And thou make minstrels of
+us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here’s my fiddlestick, here’s
+that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.
+I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I.
+
+ Enter Romeo.
+
+TYBALT.
+Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+But I’ll be hanged, 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.
+
+TYBALT.
+Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
+No better term than this: Thou art a villain.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 know’st me not.
+
+TYBALT.
+Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
+That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
+[_Draws._] Alla stoccata carries it away.
+Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
+
+TYBALT.
+What wouldst thou have with me?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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 pilcher by the ears?
+Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
+
+TYBALT.
+[_Drawing._] I am for you.
+
+ROMEO.
+Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Come, sir, your passado.
+
+ [_They fight._]
+
+ROMEO.
+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!
+
+ [_Exeunt Tybalt with his Partizans._]
+
+MERCUTIO.
+I am hurt.
+A plague o’ both your houses. I am sped.
+Is he gone, and hath nothing?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+What, art thou hurt?
+
+MERCUTIO.
+Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis enough.
+Where is my page? Go villain, fetch a surgeon.
+
+ [_Exit Page._]
+
+ROMEO.
+Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ’tis
+enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+I thought all for the best.
+
+MERCUTIO.
+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!
+
+ [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._]
+
+ROMEO.
+This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally,
+My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
+In my behalf; my reputation stain’d
+With Tybalt’s slander,—Tybalt, that an hour
+Hath been my cousin. O sweet Juliet,
+Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
+And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel.
+
+ Re-enter Benvolio.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead,
+That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds,
+Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
+
+ROMEO.
+This day’s black fate on mo days doth depend;
+This but begins the woe others must end.
+
+ Re-enter Tybalt.
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
+
+ROMEO.
+Again 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 gav’st 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.
+
+TYBALT.
+Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
+Shalt with him hence.
+
+ROMEO.
+This shall determine that.
+
+ [_They fight; Tybalt falls._]
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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!
+
+ROMEO.
+O, I am fortune’s fool!
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Why dost thou stay?
+
+ [_Exit Romeo._]
+
+ Enter Citizens.
+
+FIRST CITIZEN.
+Which way ran he that kill’d Mercutio?
+Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+There lies that Tybalt.
+
+FIRST CITIZEN.
+Up, sir, go with me.
+I charge thee in the Prince’s name obey.
+
+ Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their Wives and others.
+
+PRINCE.
+Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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?
+
+BENVOLIO.
+Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay;
+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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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?
+
+MONTAGUE.
+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. A Room in Capulet’s House.
+
+ Enter Juliet.
+
+JULIET.
+Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
+Towards Phoebus’ lodging. Such a waggoner
+As Phaeton would whip you to the west
+And bring in cloudy night immediately.
+Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
+That runaway’s 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, grow 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 I 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,
+And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks
+But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence.
+
+ Enter Nurse, with cords.
+
+Now, Nurse, what news? What hast thou there?
+The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?
+
+NURSE.
+Ay, ay, the cords.
+
+ [_Throws them down._]
+
+JULIET.
+Ay me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands?
+
+NURSE.
+Ah, well-a-day, 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.
+
+JULIET.
+Can heaven be so envious?
+
+NURSE.
+Romeo can,
+Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo.
+Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
+
+JULIET.
+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 Ay,
+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 Ay.
+If he be slain, say Ay; 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.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+What storm is this that blows so contrary?
+Is Romeo slaughter’d and is Tybalt dead?
+My dearest 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.
+
+JULIET.
+O God! Did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood?
+
+NURSE.
+It did, it did; alas the day, it did.
+
+JULIET.
+O serpent heart, hid with a flowering 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.
+
+JULIET.
+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?
+
+JULIET.
+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 murder’d 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 follow’d 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 rear-ward 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.
+
+JULIET.
+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 Lawrence’ cell.
+
+JULIET.
+O find him, give this ring to my true knight,
+And bid him come to take his last farewell.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s cell.
+
+ Enter Friar Lawrence.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man.
+Affliction is enanmour’d of thy parts
+And thou art wedded to calamity.
+
+ Enter Romeo.
+
+ROMEO.
+Father, what news? What is the Prince’s doom?
+What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
+That I yet know not?
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Too familiar
+Is my dear son with such sour company.
+I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom.
+
+ROMEO.
+What less than doomsday is the Prince’s doom?
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+A gentler judgment vanish’d from his lips,
+Not body’s death, but body’s banishment.
+
+ROMEO.
+Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say death;
+For exile hath more terror in his look,
+Much more than death. Do not say banishment.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Hence from Verona art thou banished.
+Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 banished
+Is death misterm’d. Calling death banished,
+Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe,
+And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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 see’st it not.
+
+ROMEO.
+’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 say’st 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 LAWRENCE.
+Thou fond mad man, hear me speak a little,
+
+ROMEO.
+O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+I’ll give thee armour to keep off that word,
+Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy,
+To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+O, then I see that mad men have no ears.
+
+ROMEO.
+How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+ [_Knocking within._]
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.
+
+ROMEO.
+Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans
+Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
+
+ [_Knocking._]
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Hark, how they knock!—Who’s there?—Romeo, arise,
+Thou wilt be taken.—Stay awhile.—Stand up.
+
+ [_Knocking._]
+
+Run to my study.—By-and-by.—God’s will,
+What simpleness is this.—I come, I come.
+
+ [_Knocking._]
+
+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 LAWRENCE.
+Welcome then.
+
+ Enter Nurse.
+
+NURSE.
+O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar,
+Where is my lady’s lord, where’s Romeo?
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
+
+NURSE.
+O, he is even in my mistress’ case.
+Just in her case! O woeful sympathy!
+Piteous predicament. Even so lies she,
+Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
+Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man.
+For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand.
+Why should you fall into so deep an O?
+
+ROMEO.
+Nurse.
+
+NURSE.
+Ah sir, ah sir, death’s the end of all.
+
+ROMEO.
+Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her?
+Doth not she think me an old murderer,
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+As if that name,
+Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
+Did murder 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.
+
+ [_Drawing his sword._]
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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,
+And 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 rail’st 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 sham’st 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 dismember’d 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 slew’st Tybalt; there art thou happy.
+The law that threaten’d 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 misshaped and sullen wench,
+Thou putt’st up 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
+
+NURSE.
+Here sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir.
+Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+ROMEO.
+How well my comfort is reviv’d by this.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
+It were a grief so brief to part with thee.
+Farewell.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet’s House.
+
+ Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and Paris.
+
+CAPULET.
+Things have fallen 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 tonight.
+I promise you, but for your company,
+I would have been abed an hour ago.
+
+PARIS.
+These times of woe afford no tune to woo.
+Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+I will, and know her mind early tomorrow;
+Tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness.
+
+CAPULET.
+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?
+
+PARIS.
+Monday, my lord.
+
+CAPULET.
+Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
+A 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?
+
+PARIS.
+My lord, I would that Thursday were tomorrow.
+
+CAPULET.
+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. An open Gallery to Juliet’s Chamber, overlooking the Garden.
+
+ Enter Romeo and Juliet.
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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 thy way to Mantua.
+Therefore stay yet, thou need’st not to be gone.
+
+ROMEO.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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 change 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+More light and light, more dark and dark our woes.
+
+ Enter Nurse.
+
+NURSE.
+Madam.
+
+JULIET.
+Nurse?
+
+NURSE.
+Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
+The day is broke, be wary, look about.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+JULIET.
+Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
+
+ROMEO.
+Farewell, farewell, one kiss, and I’ll descend.
+
+ [_Descends._]
+
+JULIET.
+Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Farewell!
+I will omit no opportunity
+That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
+
+JULIET.
+O thinkest thou we shall ever meet again?
+
+ROMEO.
+I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve
+For sweet discourses in our time to come.
+
+JULIET.
+O God! I have an ill-divining soul!
+Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low,
+As one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
+Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale.
+
+ROMEO.
+And trust me, love, in my eye so do you.
+Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.
+
+ [_Exit below._]
+
+JULIET.
+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 CAPULET.
+[_Within._] Ho, daughter, are you up?
+
+JULIET.
+Who is’t that calls? Is it my lady mother?
+Is she not down so late, or up so early?
+What unaccustom’d cause procures her hither?
+
+ Enter Lady Capulet.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Why, how now, Juliet?
+
+JULIET.
+Madam, I am not well.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death?
+What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
+And 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.
+
+JULIET.
+Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
+Which you weep for.
+
+JULIET.
+Feeling so the loss,
+I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death
+As that the villain lives which slaughter’d him.
+
+JULIET.
+What villain, madam?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+That same villain Romeo.
+
+JULIET.
+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 CAPULET.
+That is because the traitor murderer lives.
+
+JULIET.
+Ay madam, from the reach of these my hands.
+Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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
+Upon his body that hath slaughter’d him.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Find thou the means, and I’ll find such a man.
+But now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
+
+JULIET.
+And joy comes well in such a needy time.
+What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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 CAPULET.
+Here comes your father, tell him so yourself,
+And see how he will take it at your hands.
+
+ Enter Capulet and Nurse.
+
+CAPULET.
+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 showering? In one little body
+Thou counterfeits 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 deliver’d to her our decree?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
+I would the fool were married to her grave.
+
+CAPULET.
+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?
+
+JULIET.
+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.
+
+CAPULET.
+How now, how now, chopp’d logic? 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! Out, you baggage!
+You tallow-face!
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Fie, fie! What, are you mad?
+
+JULIET.
+Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
+Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
+
+CAPULET.
+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.
+
+CAPULET.
+And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue,
+Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.
+
+NURSE.
+I speak no treason.
+
+CAPULET.
+O God ye good-en!
+
+NURSE.
+May not one speak?
+
+CAPULET.
+Peace, you mumbling fool!
+Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl,
+For here we need it not.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+You are too hot.
+
+CAPULET.
+God’s bread, it makes me mad!
+Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play,
+Alone, in company, still my care hath been
+To have her match’d, and having now provided
+A gentleman of noble parentage,
+Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly allied,
+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, and 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.
+And you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend;
+And 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._]
+
+JULIET.
+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 CAPULET.
+Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word.
+Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+JULIET.
+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 banished; 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.
+
+JULIET.
+Speakest thou from thy heart?
+
+NURSE.
+And from my soul too,
+Or else beshrew them both.
+
+JULIET.
+Amen.
+
+NURSE.
+What?
+
+JULIET.
+Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
+Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
+Having displeas’d my father, to Lawrence’ cell,
+To make confession and to be absolv’d.
+
+NURSE.
+Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+JULIET.
+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._]
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+SCENE I. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+
+
+ Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+On Thursday, sir? The time is very short.
+
+PARIS.
+My father Capulet will have it so;
+And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+You say you do not know the lady’s mind.
+Uneven is the course; I like it not.
+
+PARIS.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+[_Aside._] I would I knew not why it should be slow’d.—
+Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.
+
+ Enter Juliet.
+
+PARIS.
+Happily met, my lady and my wife!
+
+JULIET.
+That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
+
+PARIS.
+That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next.
+
+JULIET.
+What must be shall be.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+That’s a certain text.
+
+PARIS.
+Come you to make confession to this father?
+
+JULIET.
+To answer that, I should confess to you.
+
+PARIS.
+Do not deny to him that you love me.
+
+JULIET.
+I will confess to you that I love him.
+
+PARIS.
+So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
+
+JULIET.
+If I do so, it will be of more price,
+Being spoke behind your back than to your face.
+
+PARIS.
+Poor soul, thy face is much abus’d with tears.
+
+JULIET.
+The tears have got small victory by that;
+For it was bad enough before their spite.
+
+PARIS.
+Thou wrong’st it more than tears with that report.
+
+JULIET.
+That is no slander, sir, which is a truth,
+And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
+
+PARIS.
+Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander’d it.
+
+JULIET.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.—
+My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
+
+PARIS.
+God shield I should disturb devotion!—
+Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye,
+Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+JULIET.
+O shut the door, and when thou hast done so,
+Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+O 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.
+
+JULIET.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+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 hide me nightly in a charnel-house,
+O’er-cover’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 LAWRENCE.
+Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent
+To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow;
+Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone,
+Let not thy 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 borrow’d 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, uncover’d, on the bier,
+Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
+Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
+In the meantime, 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.
+
+JULIET.
+Give me, give me! O tell not me of fear!
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford.
+Farewell, dear father.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE II. Hall in Capulet’s House.
+
+ Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse and Servants.
+
+CAPULET.
+So many guests invite as here are writ.
+
+ [_Exit first Servant._]
+
+Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
+
+SECOND SERVANT.
+You shall have none ill, sir; for I’ll try if they can lick their
+fingers.
+
+CAPULET.
+How canst thou try them so?
+
+SECOND SERVANT.
+Marry, sir, ’tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers;
+therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.
+
+CAPULET.
+Go, begone.
+
+ [_Exit second Servant._]
+
+We shall be much unfurnish’d for this time.
+What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence?
+
+NURSE.
+Ay, forsooth.
+
+CAPULET.
+Well, he 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.
+
+CAPULET.
+How now, my headstrong. Where have you been gadding?
+
+JULIET.
+Where I have learnt me to repent the sin
+Of disobedient opposition
+To you and your behests; and am enjoin’d
+By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here,
+To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you.
+Henceforward I am ever rul’d by you.
+
+CAPULET.
+Send for the County, go tell him of this.
+I’ll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning.
+
+JULIET.
+I met the youthful lord at Lawrence’ cell,
+And gave him what becomed love I might,
+Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty.
+
+CAPULET.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
+To help me sort such needful ornaments
+As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+No, not till Thursday. There is time enough.
+
+CAPULET.
+Go, Nurse, go with her. We’ll to church tomorrow.
+
+ [_Exeunt Juliet and Nurse._]
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+We shall be short in our provision,
+’Tis now near night.
+
+CAPULET.
+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 tonight, 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 tomorrow. My heart is wondrous light
+Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim’d.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+SCENE III. Juliet’s Chamber.
+
+ Enter Juliet and Nurse.
+
+JULIET.
+Ay, those attires are best. But, gentle Nurse,
+I pray thee leave me to myself tonight;
+For I have need of many orisons
+To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
+Which, well thou know’st, is cross and full of sin.
+
+ Enter Lady Capulet.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help?
+
+JULIET.
+No, madam; we have cull’d such necessaries
+As are behoveful for our state tomorrow.
+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.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Good night.
+Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
+
+ [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._]
+
+JULIET.
+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 tomorrow morning?
+No, No! This shall forbid it. Lie thou there.
+
+ [_Laying down her dagger._]
+
+What if it be a poison, which the Friar
+Subtly hath minister’d 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.
+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 festering 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 desperate 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, Romeo, Romeo, here’s drink! I drink to thee.
+
+ [_Throws herself on the bed._]
+
+SCENE IV. Hall in Capulet’s House.
+
+ Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, Nurse.
+
+NURSE.
+They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
+
+ Enter Capulet.
+
+CAPULET.
+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 tomorrow
+For this night’s watching.
+
+CAPULET.
+No, not a whit. What! I have watch’d ere now
+All night for lesser cause, and ne’er been sick.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;
+But I will watch you from such watching now.
+
+ [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._]
+
+CAPULET.
+A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!
+
+ Enter Servants, with spits, logs and baskets.
+
+Now, fellow, what’s there?
+
+FIRST SERVANT.
+Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.
+
+CAPULET.
+Make haste, make haste.
+
+ [_Exit First Servant._]
+
+—Sirrah, fetch drier logs.
+Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
+
+SECOND SERVANT.
+I have a head, sir, that will find out logs
+And never trouble Peter for the matter.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+CAPULET.
+Mass and well said; a merry whoreson, ha.
+Thou shalt be loggerhead.—Good faith, ’tis day.
+The County will be here with music straight,
+For so he said he would. I hear him near.
+
+ [_Play music._]
+
+Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, Nurse, I say!
+
+ Re-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; Juliet on the bed.
+
+ 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?
+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, well-a-day that ever I was born.
+Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! My lady!
+
+ Enter Lady Capulet.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+What noise is here?
+
+NURSE.
+O lamentable day!
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+What is the matter?
+
+NURSE.
+Look, look! O heavy day!
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+O me, O me! My child, my only life.
+Revive, look up, or I will die with thee.
+Help, help! Call help.
+
+ Enter Capulet.
+
+CAPULET.
+For shame, bring Juliet forth, her lord is come.
+
+NURSE.
+She’s dead, deceas’d, she’s dead; alack the day!
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+Alack the day, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead!
+
+CAPULET.
+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!
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+O woful time!
+
+CAPULET.
+Death, that hath ta’en her hence to make me wail,
+Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak.
+
+ Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris with Musicians.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
+
+CAPULET.
+Ready to go, but never to return.
+O son, the night before thy wedding day
+Hath death lain with thy bride. 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.
+
+PARIS.
+Have I thought long to see this morning’s face,
+And doth it give me such a sight as this?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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 woeful, woeful, woeful day.
+Most lamentable day, most woeful 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 woeful day, O woeful day.
+
+PARIS.
+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!
+
+CAPULET.
+Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr’d, kill’d.
+Uncomfortable time, why cam’st thou now
+To murder, murder our solemnity?
+O child! O child! My soul, and not my child,
+Dead art thou. Alack, my child is dead,
+And with my child my joys are buried.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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,
+And in her best array bear her to church;
+For though fond nature bids us all lament,
+Yet nature’s tears are reason’s merriment.
+
+CAPULET.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him,
+And go, Sir Paris, everyone prepare
+To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
+The heavens do lower upon you for some ill;
+Move them no more by crossing their high will.
+
+ [_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris and Friar._]
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+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.
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
+
+ [_Exit Nurse._]
+
+ Enter Peter.
+
+PETER.
+Musicians, O, musicians, ‘Heart’s ease,’ ‘Heart’s ease’, O, and you
+will have me live, play ‘Heart’s ease.’
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+Why ‘Heart’s ease’?
+
+PETER.
+O musicians, because my heart itself plays ‘My heart is full’. O play
+me some merry dump to comfort me.
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+Not a dump we, ’tis no time to play now.
+
+PETER.
+You will not then?
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+No.
+
+PETER.
+I will then give it you soundly.
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+What will you give us?
+
+PETER.
+No money, on my faith, but the gleek! I will give you the minstrel.
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+Then will I give you the serving-creature.
+
+PETER.
+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?
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+And you re us and fa us, you note us.
+
+SECOND MUSICIAN.
+Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
+
+PETER.
+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 griefs 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?
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
+
+PETER.
+Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
+
+SECOND MUSICIAN.
+I say ‘silver sound’ because musicians sound for silver.
+
+PETER.
+Prates too! What say you, James Soundpost?
+
+THIRD MUSICIAN.
+Faith, I know not what to say.
+
+PETER.
+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._]
+
+FIRST MUSICIAN.
+What a pestilent knave is this same!
+
+SECOND MUSICIAN.
+Hang him, Jack. Come, we’ll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay
+dinner.
+
+ [_Exeunt._]
+
+
+
+
+ACT V
+
+SCENE I. Mantua. A Street.
+
+
+ Enter Romeo.
+
+ROMEO.
+If I may trust the flattering eye 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 Balthasar.
+
+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.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+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.
+
+ROMEO.
+Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars!
+Thou know’st my lodging. Get me ink and paper,
+And hire post-horses. I will hence tonight.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+I do beseech you sir, have patience.
+Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
+Some misadventure.
+
+ROMEO.
+Tush, thou art deceiv’d.
+Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
+Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar?
+
+BALTHASAR.
+No, my good lord.
+
+ROMEO.
+No matter. Get thee gone,
+And hire those horses. I’ll be with thee straight.
+
+ [_Exit Balthasar._]
+
+Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight.
+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 he dwells,—which late I noted
+In tatter’d 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 scatter’d, to make up a show.
+Noting this penury, to myself I said,
+And 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.
+
+APOTHECARY.
+Who calls so loud?
+
+ROMEO.
+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 may 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.
+
+APOTHECARY.
+Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua’s law
+Is death to any he that utters them.
+
+ROMEO.
+Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
+And fear’st 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.
+
+APOTHECARY.
+My poverty, but not my will consents.
+
+ROMEO.
+I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
+
+APOTHECARY.
+Put this in any liquid thing you will
+And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
+Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.
+
+ROMEO.
+There is thy gold, worse poison to men’s souls,
+Doing more murder 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. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.
+
+ Enter Friar John.
+
+FRIAR JOHN.
+Holy Franciscan Friar! Brother, ho!
+
+ Enter Friar Lawrence.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+FRIAR 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.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
+
+FRIAR JOHN.
+I could not send it,—here it is again,—
+Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
+So fearful were they of infection.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+FRIAR JOHN.
+Brother, I’ll go and bring it thee.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
+
+ Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch.
+
+PARIS.
+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 thy 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._]
+
+PARIS.
+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.
+
+ [_The Page whistles._]
+
+The boy gives warning something doth approach.
+What cursed foot wanders this way tonight,
+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, mattock, &c.
+
+ROMEO.
+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 hear’st 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 further 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.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
+
+ROMEO.
+So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that.
+Live, and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+For all this same, I’ll hide me hereabout.
+His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.
+
+ [_Retires_]
+
+ROMEO.
+Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
+Gorg’d with the dearest morsel of the earth,
+Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
+
+ [_Breaking open the door of the monument._]
+
+And in despite, I’ll cram thee with more food.
+
+PARIS.
+This is that banish’d haughty Montague
+That murder’d my love’s cousin,—with which grief,
+It is supposed, the fair creature died,—
+And here is come to do some villainous shame
+To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him.
+
+ [_Advances._]
+
+Stop thy unhallow’d 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.
+
+ROMEO.
+I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
+Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate 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.
+
+PARIS.
+I do defy thy conjuration,
+And apprehend thee for a felon here.
+
+ROMEO.
+Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!
+
+ [_They fight._]
+
+PAGE.
+O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.
+
+ [_Exit._]
+
+PARIS.
+O, I am slain! [_Falls._] If thou be merciful,
+Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
+
+ [_Dies._]
+
+ROMEO.
+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 lantern, 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.
+
+ [_Laying Paris in the monument._]
+
+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 sea-sick weary bark.
+Here’s to my love! [_Drinks._] O true apothecary!
+Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
+
+ [_Dies._]
+
+ Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence, with a
+ lantern, crow, and spade.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Saint Francis be my speed. How oft tonight
+Have my old feet stumbled at graves? Who’s there?
+Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?
+
+BALTHASAR.
+Here’s one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+It doth so, holy sir, and there’s my master,
+One that you love.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Who is it?
+
+BALTHASAR.
+Romeo.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+How long hath he been there?
+
+BALTHASAR.
+Full half an hour.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Go with me to the vault.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+Stay then, I’ll go alone. Fear comes upon me.
+O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
+
+BALTHASAR.
+As I did sleep under this yew tree here,
+I dreamt my master and another fought,
+And that my master slew him.
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+Romeo! [_Advances._]
+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 monument._]
+
+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 wakes and stirs._]
+
+JULIET.
+O comfortable Friar, where is my lord?
+I do remember well where I should be,
+And there I am. Where is my Romeo?
+
+ [_Noise within._]
+
+FRIAR LAWRENCE.
+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.
+
+JULIET.
+Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
+
+ [_Exit Friar Lawrence._]
+
+What’s here? A cup clos’d in my true love’s hand?
+Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.
+O churl. Drink 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!
+
+FIRST WATCH.
+[_Within._] Lead, boy. Which way?
+
+JULIET.
+Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger.
+
+ [_Snatching Romeo’s dagger._]
+
+This is thy sheath. [_stabs herself_] There rest, and let me die.
+
+ [_Falls on Romeo’s body and dies._]
+
+ Enter Watch with the Page of Paris.
+
+PAGE.
+This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn.
+
+FIRST 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.
+
+ Re-enter some of the Watch with Balthasar.
+
+SECOND WATCH.
+Here’s Romeo’s man. We found him in the churchyard.
+
+FIRST WATCH.
+Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither.
+
+ Re-enter others of the Watch with Friar Lawrence.
+
+THIRD 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.
+
+FIRST 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’s rest?
+
+ Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and others.
+
+CAPULET.
+What should it be that they so shriek abroad?
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+O 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?
+
+FIRST 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.
+
+FIRST WATCH.
+Here is a Friar, and slaughter’d Romeo’s man,
+With instruments upon them fit to open
+These dead men’s tombs.
+
+CAPULET.
+O heaven! 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 mis-sheathed in my daughter’s bosom.
+
+LADY CAPULET.
+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.
+
+MONTAGUE.
+Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight.
+Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her breath.
+What further woe conspires against mine age?
+
+PRINCE.
+Look, and thou shalt see.
+
+MONTAGUE.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+I am the greatest, able to do least,
+Yet most suspected, as the time and place
+Doth make against me, of this direful murder.
+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 LAWRENCE.
+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 means
+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 borrow’d 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 ought 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 to this?
+
+BALTHASAR.
+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 threaten’d 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?
+
+PAGE.
+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 your discords too,
+Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d.
+
+CAPULET.
+O brother Montague, give me thy hand.
+This is my daughter’s jointure, for no more
+Can I demand.
+
+MONTAGUE.
+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.
+
+CAPULET.
+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._]
+
+