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1. Act III, Scene 1
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0
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A public place.
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1
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[Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants]
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2
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Benvolio.
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3
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I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
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4
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The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
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5
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And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;
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6
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For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
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7
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Mercutio.
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8
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Thou art like one of those fellows that when he
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9
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enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword
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10
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upon the table and says 'God send me no need of
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11
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thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws
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12
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it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
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13
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Benvolio.
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14
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Am I like such a fellow?
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15
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Mercutio.
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16
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Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as
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any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as
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soon moody to be moved.
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Benvolio.
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And what to?
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21
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Mercutio.
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Nay, an there were two such, we should have none
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shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,
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thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,
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or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou
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wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no
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other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what
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eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?
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Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of
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meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as
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an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a
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man for coughing in the street, because he hath
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wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:
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didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing
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his new doublet before Easter? with another, for
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tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou
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wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
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Benvolio.
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An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man
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should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
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Mercutio.
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The fee-simple! O simple!
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Benvolio.
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By my head, here come the Capulets.
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Mercutio.
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By my heel, I care not.
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47
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[Enter TYBALT and others]
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48
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Tybalt.
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Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
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Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
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Mercutio.
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And but one word with one of us? couple it with
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something; make it a word and a blow.
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Tybalt.
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You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
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will give me occasion.
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Mercutio.
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Could you not take some occasion without giving?
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Tybalt.
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Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,—
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Mercutio.
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Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an
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thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
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discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall
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make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!
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Benvolio.
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We talk here in the public haunt of men:
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Either withdraw unto some private place,
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And reason coldly of your grievances,
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Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
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Mercutio.
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Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
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I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
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[Enter ROMEO]
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75
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Tybalt.
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Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.
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Mercutio.
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But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:
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Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
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Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'
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81
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Tybalt.
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82
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Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
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No better term than this,—thou art a villain.
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84
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Romeo.
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85
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Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
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Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
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To such a greeting: villain am I none;
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Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.
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Tybalt.
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90
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Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
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That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
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92
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Romeo.
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93
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I do protest, I never injured thee,
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But love thee better than thou canst devise,
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Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
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And so, good Capulet,—which name I tender
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As dearly as my own,—be satisfied.
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Mercutio.
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O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
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Alla stoccata carries it away.
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[Draws]
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Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
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Tybalt.
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What wouldst thou have with me?
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Mercutio.
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Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
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lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
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shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
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eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
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by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
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ears ere it be out.
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Tybalt.
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I am for you.
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[Drawing]
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Romeo.
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Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
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Mercutio.
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Come, sir, your passado.
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[They fight]
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Romeo.
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Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
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Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
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Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
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Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
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Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
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[TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers]
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Mercutio.
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I am hurt.
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A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
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Is he gone, and hath nothing?
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Benvolio.
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What, art thou hurt?
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Mercutio.
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Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
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Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
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[Exit Page]
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Romeo.
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Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
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Mercutio.
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No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
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church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for
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me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I
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am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'
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both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
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cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
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rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
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arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
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was hurt under your arm.
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Romeo.
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I thought all for the best.
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Mercutio.
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Help me into some house, Benvolio,
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Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
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They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,
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And soundly too: your houses!
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[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]
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Romeo.
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This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
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My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
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In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
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With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour
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Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
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Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
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And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
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[Re-enter BENVOLIO]
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Benvolio.
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O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
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That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
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Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
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Romeo.
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This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
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This but begins the woe, others must end.
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Benvolio.
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Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
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Romeo.
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Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
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Away to heaven, respective lenity,
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And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
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[Re-enter TYBALT]
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180
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Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
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That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
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Is but a little way above our heads,
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Staying for thine to keep him company:
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Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
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Tybalt.
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Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
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Shalt with him hence.
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Romeo.
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This shall determine that.
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[They fight; TYBALT falls]
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Benvolio.
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Romeo, away, be gone!
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The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
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Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
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195
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If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!
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Romeo.
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197
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O, I am fortune's fool!
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Benvolio.
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199
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Why dost thou stay?
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200
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[Exit ROMEO]
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201
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[Enter Citizens, &c]
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202
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First Citizen.
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203
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Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
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Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
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205
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Benvolio.
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There lies that Tybalt.
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First Citizen.
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Up, sir, go with me;
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I charge thee in the princes name, obey.
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[Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their]
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Wives, and others]
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Prince Escalus.
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Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
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Benvolio.
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O noble prince, I can discover all
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The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
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There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
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That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
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Lady Capulet.
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220
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Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
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O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt
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O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
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For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
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O cousin, cousin!
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Prince Escalus.
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226
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Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
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227
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Benvolio.
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Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
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Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
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How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
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Your high displeasure: all this uttered
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With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
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Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
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Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
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With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
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Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
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And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
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Cold death aside, and with the other sends
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It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,
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Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
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'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than
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his tongue,
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His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
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And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
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An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
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Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
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But by and by comes back to Romeo,
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Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
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And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
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250
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Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
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And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
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This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
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Lady Capulet.
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254
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He is a kinsman to the Montague;
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255
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Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:
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256
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Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
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And all those twenty could but kill one life.
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I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
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Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
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Prince Escalus.
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Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
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262
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Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
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263
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Montague.
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264
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Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
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265
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His fault concludes but what the law should end,
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The life of Tybalt.
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267
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Prince Escalus.
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268
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And for that offence
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269
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Immediately we do exile him hence:
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270
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I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
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271
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My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
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But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
|
|
273
|
|
|
That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
|
|
274
|
|
|
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
|
|
275
|
|
|
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:
|
|
276
|
|
|
Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
|
|
277
|
|
|
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
|
|
278
|
|
|
Bear hence this body and attend our will:
|
|
279
|
|
|
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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| |
|
280
|
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[Exeunt]
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| |
| |
|
2. Act III, Scene 2
|
|
0
|
|
|
Capulet’s orchard.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter JULIET]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
3
|
|
|
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
|
|
4
|
|
|
Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
|
|
5
|
|
|
As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
|
|
6
|
|
|
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
|
|
7
|
|
|
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
|
|
8
|
|
|
That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo
|
|
9
|
|
|
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
|
|
10
|
|
|
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
|
|
11
|
|
|
By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
|
|
12
|
|
|
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
|
|
13
|
|
|
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
|
|
14
|
|
|
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
|
|
15
|
|
|
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
|
|
16
|
|
|
Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
|
|
17
|
|
|
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
|
|
18
|
|
|
Think true love acted simple modesty.
|
|
19
|
|
|
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
|
|
20
|
|
|
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
|
|
21
|
|
|
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
|
|
22
|
|
|
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
|
|
23
|
|
|
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
|
|
24
|
|
|
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
|
|
25
|
|
|
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
|
|
26
|
|
|
That all the world will be in love with night
|
|
27
|
|
|
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
|
|
28
|
|
|
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
|
|
29
|
|
|
But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
|
|
30
|
|
|
Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day
|
|
31
|
|
|
As is the night before some festival
|
|
32
|
|
|
To an impatient child that hath new robes
|
|
33
|
|
|
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
|
|
34
|
|
|
And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
|
|
35
|
|
|
But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.
|
|
36
|
|
|
[Enter Nurse, with cords]
|
|
37
|
|
|
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
|
|
38
|
|
|
That Romeo bid thee fetch?
|
|
39
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
40
|
|
|
Ay, ay, the cords.
|
| |
|
41
|
|
|
[Throws them down]
|
| |
|
42
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
43
|
|
|
Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
|
|
44
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
45
|
|
|
Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
|
|
46
|
|
|
We are undone, lady, we are undone!
|
|
47
|
|
|
Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
|
|
48
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
49
|
|
|
Can heaven be so envious?
|
|
50
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
51
|
|
|
Romeo can,
|
|
52
|
|
|
Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!
|
|
53
|
|
|
Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
|
|
54
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
55
|
|
|
What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
|
|
56
|
|
|
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
|
|
57
|
|
|
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,'
|
|
58
|
|
|
And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more
|
|
59
|
|
|
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
|
|
60
|
|
|
I am not I, if there be such an I;
|
|
61
|
|
|
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.'
|
|
62
|
|
|
If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no:
|
|
63
|
|
|
Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
|
|
64
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
65
|
|
|
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,—
|
|
66
|
|
|
God save the mark!—here on his manly breast:
|
|
67
|
|
|
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
|
|
68
|
|
|
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
|
|
69
|
|
|
All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.
|
|
70
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
71
|
|
|
O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!
|
|
72
|
|
|
To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!
|
|
73
|
|
|
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
|
|
74
|
|
|
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!
|
|
75
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
76
|
|
|
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
|
|
77
|
|
|
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
|
|
78
|
|
|
That ever I should live to see thee dead!
|
|
79
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
80
|
|
|
What storm is this that blows so contrary?
|
|
81
|
|
|
Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?
|
|
82
|
|
|
My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?
|
|
83
|
|
|
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
|
|
84
|
|
|
For who is living, if those two are gone?
|
|
85
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
86
|
|
|
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
|
|
87
|
|
|
Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
|
|
88
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
89
|
|
|
O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
|
|
90
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
91
|
|
|
It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
|
|
92
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
93
|
|
|
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
|
|
94
|
|
|
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
|
|
95
|
|
|
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
|
|
96
|
|
|
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
|
|
97
|
|
|
Despised substance of divinest show!
|
|
98
|
|
|
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
|
|
99
|
|
|
A damned saint, an honourable villain!
|
|
100
|
|
|
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,
|
|
101
|
|
|
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
|
|
102
|
|
|
In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?
|
|
103
|
|
|
Was ever book containing such vile matter
|
|
104
|
|
|
So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell
|
|
105
|
|
|
In such a gorgeous palace!
|
|
106
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
107
|
|
|
There's no trust,
|
|
108
|
|
|
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
|
|
109
|
|
|
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
|
|
110
|
|
|
Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:
|
|
111
|
|
|
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
|
|
112
|
|
|
Shame come to Romeo!
|
|
113
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
114
|
|
|
Blister'd be thy tongue
|
|
115
|
|
|
For such a wish! he was not born to shame:
|
|
116
|
|
|
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
|
|
117
|
|
|
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
|
|
118
|
|
|
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
|
|
119
|
|
|
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!
|
|
120
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
121
|
|
|
Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
|
|
122
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
123
|
|
|
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
|
|
124
|
|
|
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
|
|
125
|
|
|
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
|
|
126
|
|
|
But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
|
|
127
|
|
|
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
|
|
128
|
|
|
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
|
|
129
|
|
|
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
|
|
130
|
|
|
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
|
|
131
|
|
|
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
|
|
132
|
|
|
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
|
|
133
|
|
|
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
|
|
134
|
|
|
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
|
|
135
|
|
|
That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
|
|
136
|
|
|
But, O, it presses to my memory,
|
|
137
|
|
|
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
|
|
138
|
|
|
'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo—banished;'
|
|
139
|
|
|
That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
|
|
140
|
|
|
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
|
|
141
|
|
|
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
|
|
142
|
|
|
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
|
|
143
|
|
|
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
|
|
144
|
|
|
Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,'
|
|
145
|
|
|
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
|
|
146
|
|
|
Which modern lamentations might have moved?
|
|
147
|
|
|
But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
|
|
148
|
|
|
'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word,
|
|
149
|
|
|
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
|
|
150
|
|
|
All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
|
|
151
|
|
|
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
|
|
152
|
|
|
In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.
|
|
153
|
|
|
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?
|
|
154
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
155
|
|
|
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
|
|
156
|
|
|
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
|
|
157
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
158
|
|
|
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,
|
|
159
|
|
|
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
|
|
160
|
|
|
Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled,
|
|
161
|
|
|
Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:
|
|
162
|
|
|
He made you for a highway to my bed;
|
|
163
|
|
|
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
|
|
164
|
|
|
Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;
|
|
165
|
|
|
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
|
|
166
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
167
|
|
|
Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
|
|
168
|
|
|
To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
|
|
169
|
|
|
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:
|
|
170
|
|
|
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.
|
|
171
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
172
|
|
|
O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
|
|
173
|
|
|
And bid him come to take his last farewell.
|
| |
|
174
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
| |
| |
|
3. Act III, Scene 3
|
|
0
|
|
|
Friar Laurence’s cell.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
3
|
|
|
Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
|
|
4
|
|
|
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
|
|
5
|
|
|
And thou art wedded to calamity.
|
| |
|
6
|
|
|
[Enter ROMEO]
|
| |
|
7
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
8
|
|
|
Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
|
|
9
|
|
|
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
|
|
10
|
|
|
That I yet know not?
|
|
11
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
12
|
|
|
Too familiar
|
|
13
|
|
|
Is my dear son with such sour company:
|
|
14
|
|
|
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
|
|
15
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
16
|
|
|
What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?
|
|
17
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
18
|
|
|
A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
|
|
19
|
|
|
Not body's death, but body's banishment.
|
|
20
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
21
|
|
|
Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
|
|
22
|
|
|
For exile hath more terror in his look,
|
|
23
|
|
|
Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'
|
|
24
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
25
|
|
|
Hence from Verona art thou banished:
|
|
26
|
|
|
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
|
|
27
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
28
|
|
|
There is no world without Verona walls,
|
|
29
|
|
|
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
|
|
30
|
|
|
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
|
|
31
|
|
|
And world's exile is death: then banished,
|
|
32
|
|
|
Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
|
|
33
|
|
|
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
|
|
34
|
|
|
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
|
|
35
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
36
|
|
|
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
|
|
37
|
|
|
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
|
|
38
|
|
|
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
|
|
39
|
|
|
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
|
|
40
|
|
|
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
|
|
41
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
42
|
|
|
'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
|
|
43
|
|
|
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
|
|
44
|
|
|
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
|
|
45
|
|
|
Live here in heaven and may look on her;
|
|
46
|
|
|
But Romeo may not: more validity,
|
|
47
|
|
|
More honourable state, more courtship lives
|
|
48
|
|
|
In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
|
|
49
|
|
|
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
|
|
50
|
|
|
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
|
|
51
|
|
|
Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
|
|
52
|
|
|
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
|
|
53
|
|
|
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
|
|
54
|
|
|
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
|
|
55
|
|
|
They are free men, but I am banished.
|
|
56
|
|
|
And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
|
|
57
|
|
|
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
|
|
58
|
|
|
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
|
|
59
|
|
|
But 'banished' to kill me?—'banished'?
|
|
60
|
|
|
O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
|
|
61
|
|
|
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
|
|
62
|
|
|
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
|
|
63
|
|
|
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
|
|
64
|
|
|
To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
|
|
65
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
66
|
|
|
Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
|
|
67
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
68
|
|
|
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
|
|
69
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
70
|
|
|
I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
|
|
71
|
|
|
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
|
|
72
|
|
|
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
|
|
73
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
74
|
|
|
Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
|
|
75
|
|
|
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
|
|
76
|
|
|
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
|
|
77
|
|
|
It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.
|
|
78
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
79
|
|
|
O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
|
|
80
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
81
|
|
|
How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
|
|
82
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
83
|
|
|
Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
|
|
84
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
85
|
|
|
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:
|
|
86
|
|
|
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
|
|
87
|
|
|
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
|
|
88
|
|
|
Doting like me and like me banished,
|
|
89
|
|
|
Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
|
|
90
|
|
|
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
|
|
91
|
|
|
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
|
| |
|
92
|
|
|
[Knocking within]
|
| |
|
93
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
94
|
|
|
Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
|
|
95
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
96
|
|
|
Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,
|
|
97
|
|
|
Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.
|
| |
|
98
|
|
|
[Knocking]
|
| |
|
99
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
100
|
|
|
Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise;
|
|
101
|
|
|
Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;
|
|
102
|
|
|
[Knocking]
|
|
103
|
|
|
Run to my study. By and by! God's will,
|
|
104
|
|
|
What simpleness is this! I come, I come!
|
|
105
|
|
|
[Knocking]
|
|
106
|
|
|
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
|
|
107
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
108
|
|
|
[Within]Let me come in, and you shall know
|
|
109
|
|
|
my errand;
|
|
110
|
|
|
I come from Lady Juliet.
|
|
111
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
112
|
|
|
Welcome, then.
|
| |
|
113
|
|
|
[Enter Nurse]
|
| |
|
114
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
115
|
|
|
O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
|
|
116
|
|
|
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
|
|
117
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
118
|
|
|
There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
|
|
119
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
120
|
|
|
O, he is even in my mistress' case,
|
|
121
|
|
|
Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
|
|
122
|
|
|
Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
|
|
123
|
|
|
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
|
|
124
|
|
|
Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:
|
|
125
|
|
|
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
|
|
126
|
|
|
Why should you fall into so deep an O?
|
|
127
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
128
|
|
|
Nurse!
|
|
129
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
130
|
|
|
Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
|
|
131
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
132
|
|
|
Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
|
|
133
|
|
|
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
|
|
134
|
|
|
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
|
|
135
|
|
|
With blood removed but little from her own?
|
|
136
|
|
|
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
|
|
137
|
|
|
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
|
|
138
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
139
|
|
|
O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
|
|
140
|
|
|
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
|
|
141
|
|
|
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
|
|
142
|
|
|
And then down falls again.
|
|
143
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
| |
|
144
|
|
|
As if that name,
|
|
145
|
|
|
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
|
|
146
|
|
|
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
|
|
147
|
|
|
Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,
|
|
148
|
|
|
In what vile part of this anatomy
|
|
149
|
|
|
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
|
|
150
|
|
|
The hateful mansion.
|
| |
|
151
|
|
|
[Drawing his sword]
|
| |
|
152
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
153
|
|
|
Hold thy desperate hand:
|
|
154
|
|
|
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
|
|
155
|
|
|
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
|
|
156
|
|
|
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
|
|
157
|
|
|
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
|
|
158
|
|
|
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
|
|
159
|
|
|
Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
|
|
160
|
|
|
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
|
|
161
|
|
|
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
|
|
162
|
|
|
And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
|
|
163
|
|
|
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
|
|
164
|
|
|
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
|
|
165
|
|
|
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
|
|
166
|
|
|
In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
|
|
167
|
|
|
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
|
|
168
|
|
|
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
|
|
169
|
|
|
And usest none in that true use indeed
|
|
170
|
|
|
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:
|
|
171
|
|
|
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
|
|
172
|
|
|
Digressing from the valour of a man;
|
|
173
|
|
|
Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
|
|
174
|
|
|
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
|
|
175
|
|
|
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
|
|
176
|
|
|
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
|
|
177
|
|
|
Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
|
|
178
|
|
|
Is set afire by thine own ignorance,
|
|
179
|
|
|
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
|
|
180
|
|
|
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
|
|
181
|
|
|
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
|
|
182
|
|
|
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
|
|
183
|
|
|
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
|
|
184
|
|
|
The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
|
|
185
|
|
|
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
|
|
186
|
|
|
A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
|
|
187
|
|
|
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
|
|
188
|
|
|
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
|
|
189
|
|
|
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
|
|
190
|
|
|
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
|
|
191
|
|
|
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
|
|
192
|
|
|
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
|
|
193
|
|
|
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
|
|
194
|
|
|
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
|
|
195
|
|
|
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
|
|
196
|
|
|
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
|
|
197
|
|
|
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
|
|
198
|
|
|
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
|
|
199
|
|
|
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
|
|
200
|
|
|
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
|
|
201
|
|
|
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
|
|
202
|
|
|
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
|
|
203
|
|
|
Romeo is coming.
|
|
204
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
205
|
|
|
O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
|
|
206
|
|
|
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!
|
|
207
|
|
|
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
|
|
208
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
209
|
|
|
Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
|
|
210
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
211
|
|
|
Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
|
|
212
|
|
|
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
|
| |
|
213
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
| |
|
214
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
215
|
|
|
How well my comfort is revived by this!
|
|
216
|
|
|
Friar Laurence.
|
|
217
|
|
|
Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
|
|
218
|
|
|
Either be gone before the watch be set,
|
|
219
|
|
|
Or by the break of day disguised from hence:
|
|
220
|
|
|
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
|
|
221
|
|
|
And he shall signify from time to time
|
|
222
|
|
|
Every good hap to you that chances here:
|
|
223
|
|
|
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
|
|
224
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
225
|
|
|
But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
|
|
226
|
|
|
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.
|
| |
|
227
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
| |
| |
|
4. Act III, Scene 4
|
|
0
|
|
|
A room in Capulet’s house.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
3
|
|
|
Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
|
|
4
|
|
|
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
|
|
5
|
|
|
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
|
|
6
|
|
|
And so did I:—Well, we were born to die.
|
|
7
|
|
|
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
|
|
8
|
|
|
I promise you, but for your company,
|
|
9
|
|
|
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
|
|
10
|
|
|
Paris.
|
|
11
|
|
|
These times of woe afford no time to woo.
|
|
12
|
|
|
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
|
|
13
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
14
|
|
|
I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
|
|
15
|
|
|
To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.
|
|
16
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
17
|
|
|
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
|
|
18
|
|
|
Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled
|
|
19
|
|
|
In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
|
|
20
|
|
|
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
|
|
21
|
|
|
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
|
|
22
|
|
|
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—
|
|
23
|
|
|
But, soft! what day is this?
|
|
24
|
|
|
Paris.
|
|
25
|
|
|
Monday, my lord,
|
|
26
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
27
|
|
|
Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
|
|
28
|
|
|
O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
|
|
29
|
|
|
She shall be married to this noble earl.
|
|
30
|
|
|
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
|
|
31
|
|
|
We'll keep no great ado,—a friend or two;
|
|
32
|
|
|
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
|
|
33
|
|
|
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
|
|
34
|
|
|
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
|
|
35
|
|
|
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
|
|
36
|
|
|
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
|
|
37
|
|
|
Paris.
|
|
38
|
|
|
My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
|
|
39
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
40
|
|
|
Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.
|
|
41
|
|
|
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
|
|
42
|
|
|
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
|
|
43
|
|
|
Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
|
|
44
|
|
|
Afore me! it is so very very late,
|
|
45
|
|
|
That we may call it early by and by.
|
|
46
|
|
|
Good night.
|
| |
|
47
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
| |
| |
|
5. Act III, Scene 5
|
|
0
|
|
|
Capulet’s orchard.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
3
|
|
|
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
|
|
4
|
|
|
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
|
|
5
|
|
|
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
|
|
6
|
|
|
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
|
|
7
|
|
|
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
|
|
8
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
9
|
|
|
It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
|
|
10
|
|
|
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
|
|
11
|
|
|
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
|
|
12
|
|
|
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
|
|
13
|
|
|
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
|
|
14
|
|
|
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
|
|
15
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
16
|
|
|
Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
|
|
17
|
|
|
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
|
|
18
|
|
|
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
|
|
19
|
|
|
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
|
|
20
|
|
|
Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.
|
|
21
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
22
|
|
|
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
|
|
23
|
|
|
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
|
|
24
|
|
|
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
|
|
25
|
|
|
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
|
|
26
|
|
|
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
|
|
27
|
|
|
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
|
|
28
|
|
|
I have more care to stay than will to go:
|
|
29
|
|
|
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
|
|
30
|
|
|
How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.
|
|
31
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
32
|
|
|
It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
|
|
33
|
|
|
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
|
|
34
|
|
|
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
|
|
35
|
|
|
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
|
|
36
|
|
|
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
|
|
37
|
|
|
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
|
|
38
|
|
|
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
|
|
39
|
|
|
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
|
|
40
|
|
|
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
|
|
41
|
|
|
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
|
|
42
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
43
|
|
|
More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!
|
| |
|
44
|
|
|
[Enter Nurse, to the chamber]
|
| |
|
45
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
46
|
|
|
Madam!
|
|
47
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
48
|
|
|
Nurse?
|
|
49
|
|
|
Nurse.
|
|
50
|
|
|
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:
|
|
51
|
|
|
The day is broke; be wary, look about.
|
| |
|
52
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
| |
|
53
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
54
|
|
|
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
|
|
55
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
56
|
|
|
Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.
|
| |
|
57
|
|
|
[He goeth down]
|
| |
|
58
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
59
|
|
|
Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!
|
|
60
|
|
|
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
|
|
61
|
|
|
For in a minute there are many days:
|
|
62
|
|
|
O, by this count I shall be much in years
|
|
63
|
|
|
Ere I again behold my Romeo!
|
|
64
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
65
|
|
|
Farewell!
|
|
66
|
|
|
I will omit no opportunity
|
|
67
|
|
|
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
|
|
68
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
69
|
|
|
O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
|
|
70
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
| |
|
71
|
|
|
I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
|
|
72
|
|
|
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
|
|
73
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
74
|
|
|
O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
|
|
75
|
|
|
Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
|
|
76
|
|
|
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
|
|
77
|
|
|
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
|
|
78
|
|
|
Romeo.
|
|
79
|
|
|
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
|
|
80
|
|
|
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!
|
| |
|
81
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
| |
|
82
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
83
|
|
|
O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
|
|
84
|
|
|
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.
|
|
85
|
|
|
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
|
|
86
|
|
|
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
|
|
87
|
|
|
But send him back.
|
|
88
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
89
|
|
|
[Within]Ho, daughter! are you up?
|
|
90
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
91
|
|
|
Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
|
|
92
|
|
|
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
|
|
93
|
|
|
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
|
| |
|
94
|
|
|
[Enter LADY CAPULET]
|
| |
|
95
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
96
|
|
|
Why, how now, Juliet!
|
|
97
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
98
|
|
|
Madam, I am not well.
|
|
99
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
100
|
|
|
Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
|
|
101
|
|
|
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
|
|
102
|
|
|
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;
|
|
103
|
|
|
Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;
|
|
104
|
|
|
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
|
|
105
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
106
|
|
|
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
|
|
107
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
108
|
|
|
So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
|
|
109
|
|
|
Which you weep for.
|
|
110
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
111
|
|
|
Feeling so the loss,
|
|
112
|
|
|
Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
|
|
113
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
114
|
|
|
Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
|
|
115
|
|
|
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
|
|
116
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
117
|
|
|
What villain madam?
|
|
118
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
119
|
|
|
That same villain, Romeo.
|
|
120
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
121
|
|
|
[Aside]Villain and he be many miles asunder.—
|
|
122
|
|
|
God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
|
|
123
|
|
|
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
|
|
124
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
125
|
|
|
That is, because the traitor murderer lives.
|
|
126
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
127
|
|
|
Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:
|
|
128
|
|
|
Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!
|
|
129
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
130
|
|
|
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:
|
|
131
|
|
|
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
|
|
132
|
|
|
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,
|
|
133
|
|
|
Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,
|
|
134
|
|
|
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
|
|
135
|
|
|
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
|
|
136
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
137
|
|
|
Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
|
|
138
|
|
|
With Romeo, till I behold him—dead—
|
|
139
|
|
|
Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.
|
|
140
|
|
|
Madam, if you could find out but a man
|
|
141
|
|
|
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
|
|
142
|
|
|
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
|
|
143
|
|
|
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
|
|
144
|
|
|
To hear him named, and cannot come to him.
|
|
145
|
|
|
To wreak the love I bore my cousin
|
|
146
|
|
|
Upon his body that slaughter'd him!
|
|
147
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
148
|
|
|
Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
|
|
149
|
|
|
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
|
|
150
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
151
|
|
|
And joy comes well in such a needy time:
|
|
152
|
|
|
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
|
|
153
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
154
|
|
|
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
|
|
155
|
|
|
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
|
|
156
|
|
|
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
|
|
157
|
|
|
That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.
|
|
158
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
159
|
|
|
Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
|
|
160
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
161
|
|
|
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
|
|
162
|
|
|
The gallant, young and noble gentleman,
|
|
163
|
|
|
The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
|
|
164
|
|
|
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
|
|
165
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
166
|
|
|
Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,
|
|
167
|
|
|
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
|
|
168
|
|
|
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
|
|
169
|
|
|
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
|
|
170
|
|
|
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
|
|
171
|
|
|
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
|
|
172
|
|
|
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
|
|
173
|
|
|
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!
|
|
174
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
175
|
|
|
Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,
|
|
176
|
|
|
And see how he will take it at your hands.
|
| |
|
177
|
|
|
[Enter CAPULET and Nurse]
|
| |
|
178
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
179
|
|
|
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
|
|
180
|
|
|
But for the sunset of my brother's son
|
|
181
|
|
|
It rains downright.
|
|
182
|
|
|
How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
|
|
183
|
|
|
Evermore showering? In one little body
|
|
184
|
|
|
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
|
|
185
|
|
|
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
|
|
186
|
|
|
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
|
|
187
|
|
|
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
|
|
188
|
|
|
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
|
|
189
|
|
|
Without a sudden calm, will overset
|
|
190
|
|
|
Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!
|
|
191
|
|
|
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
|
|
192
|
|
|
Lady Capulet.
|
|
193
|
|
|
Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
|
|
194
|
|
|
I would the fool were married to her grave!
|
|
195
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
196
|
|
|
Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.
|
|
197
|
|
|
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
|
|
198
|
|
|
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
|
|
199
|
|
|
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
|
|
200
|
|
|
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
|
|
201
|
|
|
Juliet.
|
|
202
|
|
|
Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:
|
|
203
|
|
|
Proud can I never be of what I hate;
|
|
204
|
|
|
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
|
|
205
|
|
|
Capulet.
|
|
206
|
|
|
How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
|
|
207
|
|
|
'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'
|
|
208
|
|
|
And yet 'not |
