The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet 4.html

<span id = 10 ><b>THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET</b><br /><br /><i>by William Shakespeare</i><br /><br /><br /><br /><i>Dramatis Personae</i><br /><br />&nbsp; Chorus.<br /><br />&nbsp; Escalus, Prince of Verona.<br />&nbsp; Paris, a young Count, kinsman to the Prince.<br />&nbsp; Montague, head of Montague family.<br />&nbsp; Capulet, heads of Capulet family.<br />&nbsp; An old Man, of the Capulet family.<br />&nbsp; Romeo, son to Montague.<br />&nbsp; Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet.<br />&nbsp; Mercutio, kinsman to the Prince and friend to Romeo.<br />&nbsp; Benvolio, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo<br />&nbsp; Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet.<br />&nbsp; Friar Laurence, Franciscan.<br />&nbsp; Friar John, Franciscan.<br />&nbsp; Balthasar, servant to Romeo.<br />&nbsp; Abram, servant to Montague.<br />&nbsp; Sampson, servant to Capulet.<br />&nbsp; Gregory, servant to Capulet.<br />&nbsp; Peter, servant to Juliet's Nurse.<br />&nbsp; An Apothecary. <br />&nbsp; Three Musicians.<br />&nbsp; An Officer.<br />&nbsp; Lady Montague, wife to Montague.<br />&nbsp; Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet.<br />&nbsp; Juliet, daughter to Capulet.<br />&nbsp; Nurse to Juliet.<br /><br />&nbsp; Citizens of Verona; Gentlemen and Gentlewomen of both houses;<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Maskers, Torchbearers, Pages, Guards, Watchmen, Servants, and<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Attendants.<br /><br /></span><span id = 11 ><h3>PROLOGUE</h3><a>Two households, both alike in dignity,</a><br /><a>In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,</a><br /><a>From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,</a><br /><a>Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.</a><br /><a>From forth the fatal loins of these two foes</a><br /><a>A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;</a><br /><a>Whole misadventured piteous overthrows</a><br /><a>Do with their death bury their parents' strife.</a><br /><a>The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,</a><br /><a>And the continuance of their parents' rage,</a><br /><a>Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,</a><br /><a>Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;</a><br /><a>The which if you with patient ears attend,</a><br /><a>What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.</a></span><span id = 12 ><h3>SCENE I. Verona. A public place.</h3><blockquote><i>Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers</i></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>No, for then we should be colliers.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>I strike quickly, being moved.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>But thou art not quickly moved to strike.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>A dog of the house of Montague moves me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:</a><br /><a>therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will</a><br /><a>take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes</a><br /><a>to the wall.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,</a><br /><a>are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push</a><br /><a>Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids</a><br /><a>to the wall.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I</a><br /><a>have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the</a><br /><a>maids, and cut off their heads.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>The heads of the maids?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;</a><br /><a>take it in what sense thou wilt.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>They must take it in sense that feel it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and</a><br /><a>'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou</a><br /><a>hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes</a><br /><a>two of the house of the Montagues.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>How! turn thy back and run?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Fear me not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>No, marry; I fear thee!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as</a><br /><a>they list.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;</a><br /><a>which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.</a><br /><p><i>Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ABRAHAM</b></a><blockquote><a>Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>I do bite my thumb, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ABRAHAM</b></a><blockquote><a>Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>[Aside to GREGORY]  Is the law of our side, if I say</a><br /><a>ay?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>No.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I</a><br /><a>bite my thumb, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>Do you quarrel, sir?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ABRAHAM</b></a><blockquote><a>Quarrel sir! no, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ABRAHAM</b></a><blockquote><a>No better.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>GREGORY</b></a><blockquote><a>Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Yes, better, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ABRAHAM</b></a><blockquote><a>You lie.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>SAMPSON</b></a><blockquote><a>Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.</a><br /><p><i>They fight</i></p><p><i>Enter BENVOLIO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Part, fools!</a><br /><a>Put up your swords; you know not what you do.</a><br /><p><i>Beats down their swords</i></p><p><i>Enter TYBALT</i></p></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?</a><br /><a>Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,</a><br /><a>Or manage it to part these men with me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,</a><br /><a>As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:</a><br /><a>Have at thee, coward!</a><br /><p><i>They fight</i></p><p><i>Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs</i></p></blockquote><a><b>First Citizen</b></a><blockquote><a>Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!</a><br /><a>Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!</a><br /><p><i>Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,</a><br /><a>And flourishes his blade in spite of me.</a><br /><p><i>Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE</i></p></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.</a><br /><p><i>Enter PRINCE, with Attendants</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,</a><br /><a>Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--</a><br /><a>Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,</a><br /><a>That quench the fire of your pernicious rage</a><br /><a>With purple fountains issuing from your veins,</a><br /><a>On pain of torture, from those bloody hands</a><br /><a>Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,</a><br /><a>And hear the sentence of your moved prince.</a><br /><a>Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,</a><br /><a>By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,</a><br /><a>Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,</a><br /><a>And made Verona's ancient citizens</a><br /><a>Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,</a><br /><a>To wield old partisans, in hands as old,</a><br /><a>Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:</a><br /><a>If ever you disturb our streets again,</a><br /><a>Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.</a><br /><a>For this time, all the rest depart away:</a><br /><a>You Capulet; shall go along with me:</a><br /><a>And, Montague, come you this afternoon,</a><br /><a>To know our further pleasure in this case,</a><br /><a>To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.</a><br /><a>Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?</a><br /><a>Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Here were the servants of your adversary,</a><br /><a>And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:</a><br /><a>I drew to part them: in the instant came</a><br /><a>The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,</a><br /><a>Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,</a><br /><a>He swung about his head and cut the winds,</a><br /><a>Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:</a><br /><a>While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,</a><br /><a>Came more and more and fought on part and part,</a><br /><a>Till the prince came, who parted either part.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?</a><br /><a>Right glad I am he was not at this fray.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun</a><br /><a>Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,</a><br /><a>A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;</a><br /><a>Where, underneath the grove of sycamore</a><br /><a>That westward rooteth from the city's side,</a><br /><a>So early walking did I see your son:</a><br /><a>Towards him I made, but he was ware of me</a><br /><a>And stole into the covert of the wood:</a><br /><a>I, measuring his affections by my own,</a><br /><a>That most are busied when they're most alone,</a><br /><a>Pursued my humour not pursuing his,</a><br /><a>And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Many a morning hath he there been seen,</a><br /><a>With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.</a><br /><a>Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;</a><br /><a>But all so soon as the all-cheering sun</a><br /><a>Should in the furthest east begin to draw</a><br /><a>The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,</a><br /><a>Away from the light steals home my heavy son,</a><br /><a>And private in his chamber pens himself,</a><br /><a>Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out</a><br /><a>And makes himself an artificial night:</a><br /><a>Black and portentous must this humour prove,</a><br /><a>Unless good counsel may the cause remove.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>My noble uncle, do you know the cause?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>I neither know it nor can learn of him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Have you importuned him by any means?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Both by myself and many other friends:</a><br /><a>But he, his own affections' counsellor,</a><br /><a>Is to himself--I will not say how true--</a><br /><a>But to himself so secret and so close,</a><br /><a>So far from sounding and discovery,</a><br /><a>As is the bud bit with an envious worm,</a><br /><a>Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,</a><br /><a>Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.</a><br /><a>Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.</a><br /><a>We would as willingly give cure as know.</a><br /><p><i>Enter ROMEO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;</a><br /><a>I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,</a><br /><a>To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Good-morrow, cousin.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Is the day so young?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>But new struck nine.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay me! sad hours seem long.</a><br /><a>Was that my father that went hence so fast?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Not having that, which, having, makes them short.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>In love?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Out--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Of love?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Out of her favour, where I am in love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,</a><br /><a>Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,</a><br /><a>Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!</a><br /><a>Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?</a><br /><a>Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.</a><br /><a>Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.</a><br /><a>Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!</a><br /><a>O any thing, of nothing first create!</a><br /><a>O heavy lightness! serious vanity!</a><br /><a>Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!</a><br /><a>Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,</a><br /><a>sick health!</a><br /><a>Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!</a><br /><a>This love feel I, that feel no love in this.</a><br /><a>Dost thou not laugh?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>No, coz, I rather weep.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Good heart, at what?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>At thy good heart's oppression.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, such is love's transgression.</a><br /><a>Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,</a><br /><a>Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest</a><br /><a>With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown</a><br /><a>Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.</a><br /><a>Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;</a><br /><a>Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;</a><br /><a>Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:</a><br /><a>What is it else? a madness most discreet,</a><br /><a>A choking gall and a preserving sweet.</a><br /><a>Farewell, my coz.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Soft! I will go along;</a><br /><a>An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;</a><br /><a>This is not Romeo, he's some other where.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What, shall I groan and tell thee?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Groan! why, no.</a><br /><a>But sadly tell me who.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:</a><br /><a>Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!</a><br /><a>In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit</a><br /><a>With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;</a><br /><a>And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,</a><br /><a>From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.</a><br /><a>She will not stay the siege of loving terms,</a><br /><a>Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,</a><br /><a>Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:</a><br /><a>O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,</a><br /><a>That when she dies with beauty dies her store.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,</a><br /><a>For beauty starved with her severity</a><br /><a>Cuts beauty off from all posterity.</a><br /><a>She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,</a><br /><a>To merit bliss by making me despair:</a><br /><a>She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow</a><br /><a>Do I live dead that live to tell it now.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, teach me how I should forget to think.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>By giving liberty unto thine eyes;</a><br /><a>Examine other beauties.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis the way</a><br /><a>To call hers exquisite, in question more:</a><br /><a>These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows</a><br /><a>Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;</a><br /><a>He that is strucken blind cannot forget</a><br /><a>The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:</a><br /><a>Show me a mistress that is passing fair,</a><br /><a>What doth her beauty serve, but as a note</a><br /><a>Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?</a><br /><a>Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 28 ><h3>SCENE II. A street.</h3><blockquote><i>Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant</i></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>But Montague is bound as well as I,</a><br /><a>In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,</a><br /><a>For men so old as we to keep the peace.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Of honourable reckoning are you both;</a><br /><a>And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.</a><br /><a>But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>But saying o'er what I have said before:</a><br /><a>My child is yet a stranger in the world;</a><br /><a>She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,</a><br /><a>Let two more summers wither in their pride,</a><br /><a>Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Younger than she are happy mothers made.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>And too soon marr'd are those so early made.</a><br /><a>The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,</a><br /><a>She is the hopeful lady of my earth:</a><br /><a>But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,</a><br /><a>My will to her consent is but a part;</a><br /><a>An she agree, within her scope of choice</a><br /><a>Lies my consent and fair according voice.</a><br /><a>This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,</a><br /><a>Whereto I have invited many a guest,</a><br /><a>Such as I love; and you, among the store,</a><br /><a>One more, most welcome, makes my number more.</a><br /><a>At my poor house look to behold this night</a><br /><a>Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:</a><br /><a>Such comfort as do lusty young men feel</a><br /><a>When well-apparell'd April on the heel</a><br /><a>Of limping winter treads, even such delight</a><br /><a>Among fresh female buds shall you this night</a><br /><a>Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,</a><br /><a>And like her most whose merit most shall be:</a><br /><a>Which on more view, of many mine being one</a><br /><a>May stand in number, though in reckoning none,</a><br /><a>Come, go with me.</a><br /><p><i>To Servant, giving a paper</i></p><a>Go, sirrah, trudge about</a><br /><a>Through fair Verona; find those persons out</a><br /><a>Whose names are written there, and to them say,</a><br /><a>My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Find them out whose names are written here! It is</a><br /><a>written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his</a><br /><a>yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with</a><br /><a>his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am</a><br /><a>sent to find those persons whose names are here</a><br /><a>writ, and can never find what names the writing</a><br /><a>person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.</a><br /><p><i>Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,</a><br /><a>One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;</a><br /><a>Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;</a><br /><a>One desperate grief cures with another's languish:</a><br /><a>Take thou some new infection to thy eye,</a><br /><a>And the rank poison of the old will die.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>For what, I pray thee?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>For your broken shin.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, Romeo, art thou mad?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;</a><br /><a>Shut up in prison, kept without my food,</a><br /><a>Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I</a><br /><a>pray, can you read any thing you see?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, if I know the letters and the language.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Ye say honestly: rest you merry!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Stay, fellow; I can read.</a><br /><p><i>Reads</i></p><a>'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;</a><br /><a>County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady</a><br /><a>widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely</a><br /><a>nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine</a><br /><a>uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece</a><br /><a>Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin</a><br /><a>Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair</a><br /><a>assembly: whither should they come?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Up.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Whither?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>To supper; to our house.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Whose house?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>My master's.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the</a><br /><a>great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house</a><br /><a>of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.</a><br /><a>Rest you merry!</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>At this same ancient feast of Capulet's</a><br /><a>Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,</a><br /><a>With all the admired beauties of Verona:</a><br /><a>Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,</a><br /><a>Compare her face with some that I shall show,</a><br /><a>And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>When the devout religion of mine eye</a><br /><a>Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;</a><br /><a>And these, who often drown'd could never die,</a><br /><a>Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!</a><br /><a>One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun</a><br /><a>Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,</a><br /><a>Herself poised with herself in either eye:</a><br /><a>But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd</a><br /><a>Your lady's love against some other maid</a><br /><a>That I will show you shining at this feast,</a><br /><a>And she shall scant show well that now shows best.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,</a><br /><a>But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 66 ><blockquote><i>Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse</i></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,</a><br /><a>I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!</a><br /><a>God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!</a><br /><p><i>Enter JULIET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>How now! who calls?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Your mother.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam, I am here.</a><br /><a>What is your will?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,</a><br /><a>We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;</a><br /><a>I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.</a><br /><a>Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>She's not fourteen.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--</a><br /><a>And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--</a><br /><a>She is not fourteen. How long is it now</a><br /><a>To Lammas-tide?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>                  A fortnight and odd days.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Even or odd, of all days in the year,</a><br /><a>Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.</a><br /><a>Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--</a><br /><a>Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;</a><br /><a>She was too good for me: but, as I said,</a><br /><a>On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;</a><br /><a>That shall she, marry; I remember it well.</a><br /><a>'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;</a><br /><a>And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--</a><br /><a>Of all the days of the year, upon that day:</a><br /><a>For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,</a><br /><a>Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;</a><br /><a>My lord and you were then at Mantua:--</a><br /><a>Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,</a><br /><a>When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple</a><br /><a>Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,</a><br /><a>To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!</a><br /><a>Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,</a><br /><a>To bid me trudge:</a><br /><a>And since that time it is eleven years;</a><br /><a>For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,</a><br /><a>She could have run and waddled all about;</a><br /><a>For even the day before, she broke her brow:</a><br /><a>And then my husband--God be with his soul!</a><br /><a>A' was a merry man--took up the child:</a><br /><a>'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?</a><br /><a>Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;</a><br /><a>Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,</a><br /><a>The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'</a><br /><a>To see, now, how a jest shall come about!</a><br /><a>I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,</a><br /><a>I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;</a><br /><a>And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,</a><br /><a>To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'</a><br /><a>And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow</a><br /><a>A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;</a><br /><a>A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:</a><br /><a>'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?</a><br /><a>Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;</a><br /><a>Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!</a><br /><a>Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:</a><br /><a>An I might live to see thee married once,</a><br /><a>I have my wish.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme</a><br /><a>I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,</a><br /><a>How stands your disposition to be married?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>It is an honour that I dream not of.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>An honour! were not I thine only nurse,</a><br /><a>I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,</a><br /><a>Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,</a><br /><a>Are made already mothers: by my count,</a><br /><a>I was your mother much upon these years</a><br /><a>That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:</a><br /><a>The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>A man, young lady! lady, such a man</a><br /><a>As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Verona's summer hath not such a flower.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What say you? can you love the gentleman?</a><br /><a>This night you shall behold him at our feast;</a><br /><a>Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,</a><br /><a>And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;</a><br /><a>Examine every married lineament,</a><br /><a>And see how one another lends content</a><br /><a>And what obscured in this fair volume lies</a><br /><a>Find written in the margent of his eyes.</a><br /><a>This precious book of love, this unbound lover,</a><br /><a>To beautify him, only lacks a cover:</a><br /><a>The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride</a><br /><a>For fair without the fair within to hide:</a><br /><a>That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,</a><br /><a>That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;</a><br /><a>So shall you share all that he doth possess,</a><br /><a>By having him, making yourself no less.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I'll look to like, if looking liking move:</a><br /><a>But no more deep will I endart mine eye</a><br /><a>Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.</a><br /><p><i>Enter a Servant</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you</a><br /><a>called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in</a><br /><a>the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must</a><br /><a>hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>We follow thee.</a><br /><p><i>Exit Servant</i></p><a>Juliet, the county stays.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 67 ><blockquote><i>Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others</i></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?</a><br /><a>Or shall we on without a apology?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>The date is out of such prolixity:</a><br /><a>We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,</a><br /><a>Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,</a><br /><a>Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;</a><br /><a>Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke</a><br /><a>After the prompter, for our entrance:</a><br /><a>But let them measure us by what they will;</a><br /><a>We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;</a><br /><a>Being but heavy, I will bear the light.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes</a><br /><a>With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead</a><br /><a>So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,</a><br /><a>And soar with them above a common bound.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I am too sore enpierced with his shaft</a><br /><a>To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,</a><br /><a>I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:</a><br /><a>Under love's heavy burden do I sink.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>And, to sink in it, should you burden love;</a><br /><a>Too great oppression for a tender thing.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,</a><br /><a>Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>If love be rough with you, be rough with love;</a><br /><a>Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.</a><br /><a>Give me a case to put my visage in:</a><br /><a>A visor for a visor! what care I</a><br /><a>What curious eye doth quote deformities?</a><br /><a>Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,</a><br /><a>But every man betake him to his legs.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>A torch for me: let wantons light of heart</a><br /><a>Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,</a><br /><a>For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;</a><br /><a>I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.</a><br /><a>The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:</a><br /><a>If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire</a><br /><a>Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st</a><br /><a>Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, that's not so.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I mean, sir, in delay</a><br /><a>We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.</a><br /><a>Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits</a><br /><a>Five times in that ere once in our five wits.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>And we mean well in going to this mask;</a><br /><a>But 'tis no wit to go.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, may one ask?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I dream'd a dream to-night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>And so did I.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, what was yours?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>That dreamers often lie.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.</a><br /><a>She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes</a><br /><a>In shape no bigger than an agate-stone</a><br /><a>On the fore-finger of an alderman,</a><br /><a>Drawn with a team of little atomies</a><br /><a>Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;</a><br /><a>Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,</a><br /><a>The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,</a><br /><a>The traces of the smallest spider's web,</a><br /><a>The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,</a><br /><a>Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,</a><br /><a>Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,</a><br /><a>Not so big as a round little worm</a><br /><a>Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;</a><br /><a>Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut</a><br /><a>Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,</a><br /><a>Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.</a><br /><a>And in this state she gallops night by night</a><br /><a>Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;</a><br /><a>O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,</a><br /><a>O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,</a><br /><a>O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,</a><br /><a>Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,</a><br /><a>Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:</a><br /><a>Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,</a><br /><a>And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;</a><br /><a>And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail</a><br /><a>Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,</a><br /><a>Then dreams, he of another benefice:</a><br /><a>Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,</a><br /><a>And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,</a><br /><a>Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,</a><br /><a>Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon</a><br /><a>Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,</a><br /><a>And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two</a><br /><a>And sleeps again. This is that very Mab</a><br /><a>That plats the manes of horses in the night,</a><br /><a>And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,</a><br /><a>Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:</a><br /><a>This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,</a><br /><a>That presses them and learns them first to bear,</a><br /><a>Making them women of good carriage:</a><br /><a>This is she--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!</a><br /><a>Thou talk'st of nothing.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>True, I talk of dreams,</a><br /><a>Which are the children of an idle brain,</a><br /><a>Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,</a><br /><a>Which is as thin of substance as the air</a><br /><a>And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes</a><br /><a>Even now the frozen bosom of the north,</a><br /><a>And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,</a><br /><a>Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;</a><br /><a>Supper is done, and we shall come too late.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I fear, too early: for my mind misgives</a><br /><a>Some consequence yet hanging in the stars</a><br /><a>Shall bitterly begin his fearful date</a><br /><a>With this night's revels and expire the term</a><br /><a>Of a despised life closed in my breast</a><br /><a>By some vile forfeit of untimely death.</a><br /><a>But He, that hath the steerage of my course,</a><br /><a>Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Strike, drum.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 68 ><blockquote><i>Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins</i></blockquote><a><b>First Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He</a><br /><a>shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's</a><br /><a>hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Away with the joint-stools, remove the</a><br /><a>court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save</a><br /><a>me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let</a><br /><a>the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.</a><br /><a>Antony, and Potpan!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, boy, ready.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>You are looked for and called for, asked for and</a><br /><a>sought for, in the great chamber.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be</a><br /><a>brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.</a><br /><p><i>Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes</a><br /><a>Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.</a><br /><a>Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all</a><br /><a>Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,</a><br /><a>She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?</a><br /><a>Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day</a><br /><a>That I have worn a visor and could tell</a><br /><a>A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,</a><br /><a>Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:</a><br /><a>You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.</a><br /><a>A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.</a><br /><p><i>Music plays, and they dance</i></p><a>More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,</a><br /><a>And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.</a><br /><a>Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.</a><br /><a>Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;</a><br /><a>For you and I are past our dancing days:</a><br /><a>How long is't now since last yourself and I</a><br /><a>Were in a mask?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Capulet</b></a><blockquote><a>                  By'r lady, thirty years.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:</a><br /><a>'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,</a><br /><a>Come pentecost as quickly as it will,</a><br /><a>Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Capulet</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;</a><br /><a>His son is thirty.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Will you tell me that?</a><br /><a>His son was but a ward two years ago.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>[To a Servingman]  What lady is that, which doth</a><br /><a>enrich the hand</a><br /><a>Of yonder knight?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>I know not, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!</a><br /><a>It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night</a><br /><a>Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;</a><br /><a>Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!</a><br /><a>So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,</a><br /><a>As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.</a><br /><a>The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,</a><br /><a>And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.</a><br /><a>Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!</a><br /><a>For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>This, by his voice, should be a Montague.</a><br /><a>Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave</a><br /><a>Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,</a><br /><a>To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?</a><br /><a>Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,</a><br /><a>To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,</a><br /><a>A villain that is hither come in spite,</a><br /><a>To scorn at our solemnity this night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Young Romeo is it?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis he, that villain Romeo.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;</a><br /><a>He bears him like a portly gentleman;</a><br /><a>And, to say truth, Verona brags of him</a><br /><a>To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:</a><br /><a>I would not for the wealth of all the town</a><br /><a>Here in my house do him disparagement:</a><br /><a>Therefore be patient, take no note of him:</a><br /><a>It is my will, the which if thou respect,</a><br /><a>Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,</a><br /><a>And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>It fits, when such a villain is a guest:</a><br /><a>I'll not endure him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>He shall be endured:</a><br /><a>What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;</a><br /><a>Am I the master here, or you? go to.</a><br /><a>You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!</a><br /><a>You'll make a mutiny among my guests!</a><br /><a>You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Go to, go to;</a><br /><a>You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?</a><br /><a>This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:</a><br /><a>You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.</a><br /><a>Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:</a><br /><a>Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame!</a><br /><a>I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting</a><br /><a>Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.</a><br /><a>I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall</a><br /><a>Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>[To JULIET]  If I profane with my unworthiest hand</a><br /><a>This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:</a><br /><a>My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand</a><br /><a>To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,</a><br /><a>Which mannerly devotion shows in this;</a><br /><a>For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,</a><br /><a>And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;</a><br /><a>They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.</a><br /><a>Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Then have my lips the sin that they have took.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!</a><br /><a>Give me my sin again.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>You kiss by the book.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam, your mother craves a word with you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What is her mother?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, bachelor,</a><br /><a>Her mother is the lady of the house,</a><br /><a>And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous</a><br /><a>I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;</a><br /><a>I tell you, he that can lay hold of her</a><br /><a>Shall have the chinks.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Is she a Capulet?</a><br /><a>O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Away, begone; the sport is at the best.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;</a><br /><a>We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.</a><br /><a>Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all</a><br /><a>I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.</a><br /><a>More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.</a><br /><a>Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:</a><br /><a>I'll to my rest.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>The son and heir of old Tiberio.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What's he that now is going out of door?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What's he that follows there, that would not dance?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>I know not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Go ask his name: if he be married.</a><br /><a>My grave is like to be my wedding bed.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>His name is Romeo, and a Montague;</a><br /><a>The only son of your great enemy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>My only love sprung from my only hate!</a><br /><a>Too early seen unknown, and known too late!</a><br /><a>Prodigious birth of love it is to me,</a><br /><a>That I must love a loathed enemy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>What's this? what's this?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>A rhyme I learn'd even now</a><br /><a>Of one I danced withal.</a><br /><p><i>One calls within 'Juliet.'</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><a>Anon, anon!</a><br /><a>Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></span><span id = 71 ></span><span id = 72 ><blockquote><i>Enter Chorus</i></blockquote><a><b>Chorus</b></a><blockquote><a>Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,</a><br /><a>And young affection gapes to be his heir;</a><br /><a>That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,</a><br /><a>With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.</a><br /><a>Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,</a><br /><a>Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,</a><br /><a>But to his foe supposed he must complain,</a><br /><a>And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:</a><br /><a>Being held a foe, he may not have access</a><br /><a>To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;</a><br /><a>And she as much in love, her means much less</a><br /><a>To meet her new-beloved any where:</a><br /><a>But passion lends them power, time means, to meet</a><br /><a>Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 73 ><blockquote><i>Enter ROMEO</i></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Can I go forward when my heart is here?</a><br /><a>Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.</a><br /><p><i>He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it</i></p><p><i>Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo! my cousin Romeo!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>He is wise;</a><br /><a>And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:</a><br /><a>Call, good Mercutio.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, I'll conjure too.</a><br /><a>Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!</a><br /><a>Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:</a><br /><a>Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;</a><br /><a>Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'</a><br /><a>Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,</a><br /><a>One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,</a><br /><a>Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,</a><br /><a>When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!</a><br /><a>He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;</a><br /><a>The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.</a><br /><a>I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,</a><br /><a>By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,</a><br /><a>By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh</a><br /><a>And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,</a><br /><a>That in thy likeness thou appear to us!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him</a><br /><a>To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle</a><br /><a>Of some strange nature, letting it there stand</a><br /><a>Till she had laid it and conjured it down;</a><br /><a>That were some spite: my invocation</a><br /><a>Is fair and honest, and in his mistres s' name</a><br /><a>I conjure only but to raise up him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,</a><br /><a>To be consorted with the humorous night:</a><br /><a>Blind is his love and best befits the dark.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.</a><br /><a>Now will he sit under a medlar tree,</a><br /><a>And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit</a><br /><a>As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.</a><br /><a>Romeo, that she were, O, that she were</a><br /><a>An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!</a><br /><a>Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;</a><br /><a>This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:</a><br /><a>Come, shall we go?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Go, then; for 'tis in vain</a><br /><a>To seek him here that means not to be found.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 74 ><blockquote><i>Enter ROMEO</i></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>He jests at scars that never felt a wound.</a><br /><p><i>JULIET appears above at a window</i></p><a>But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?</a><br /><a>It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.</a><br /><a>Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,</a><br /><a>Who is already sick and pale with grief,</a><br /><a>That thou her maid art far more fair than she:</a><br /><a>Be not her maid, since she is envious;</a><br /><a>Her vestal livery is but sick and green</a><br /><a>And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.</a><br /><a>It is my lady, O, it is my love!</a><br /><a>O, that she knew she were!</a><br /><a>She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?</a><br /><a>Her eye discourses; I will answer it.</a><br /><a>I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:</a><br /><a>Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,</a><br /><a>Having some business, do entreat her eyes</a><br /><a>To twinkle in their spheres till they return.</a><br /><a>What if her eyes were there, they in her head?</a><br /><a>The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,</a><br /><a>As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven</a><br /><a>Would through the airy region stream so bright</a><br /><a>That birds would sing and think it were not night.</a><br /><a>See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!</a><br /><a>O, that I were a glove upon that hand,</a><br /><a>That I might touch that cheek!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay me!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>She speaks:</a><br /><a>O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art</a><br /><a>As glorious to this night, being o'er my head</a><br /><a>As is a winged messenger of heaven</a><br /><a>Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes</a><br /><a>Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him</a><br /><a>When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds</a><br /><a>And sails upon the bosom of the air.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?</a><br /><a>Deny thy father and refuse thy name;</a><br /><a>Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,</a><br /><a>And I'll no longer be a Capulet.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>[Aside]  Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;</a><br /><a>Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.</a><br /><a>What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,</a><br /><a>Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part</a><br /><a>Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!</a><br /><a>What's in a name? that which we call a rose</a><br /><a>By any other name would smell as sweet;</a><br /><a>So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,</a><br /><a>Retain that dear perfection which he owes</a><br /><a>Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,</a><br /><a>And for that name which is no part of thee</a><br /><a>Take all myself.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>                  I take thee at thy word:</a><br /><a>Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;</a><br /><a>Henceforth I never will be Romeo.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night</a><br /><a>So stumblest on my counsel?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>By a name</a><br /><a>I know not how to tell thee who I am:</a><br /><a>My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,</a><br /><a>Because it is an enemy to thee;</a><br /><a>Had I it written, I would tear the word.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words</a><br /><a>Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:</a><br /><a>Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?</a><br /><a>The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,</a><br /><a>And the place death, considering who thou art,</a><br /><a>If any of my kinsmen find thee here.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;</a><br /><a>For stony limits cannot hold love out,</a><br /><a>And what love can do that dares love attempt;</a><br /><a>Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>If they do see thee, they will murder thee.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye</a><br /><a>Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,</a><br /><a>And I am proof against their enmity.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I would not for the world they saw thee here.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;</a><br /><a>And but thou love me, let them find me here:</a><br /><a>My life were better ended by their hate,</a><br /><a>Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>By whose direction found'st thou out this place?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;</a><br /><a>He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.</a><br /><a>I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far</a><br /><a>As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,</a><br /><a>I would adventure for such merchandise.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,</a><br /><a>Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek</a><br /><a>For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night</a><br /><a>Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny</a><br /><a>What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!</a><br /><a>Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'</a><br /><a>And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,</a><br /><a>Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries</a><br /><a>Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,</a><br /><a>If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:</a><br /><a>Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,</a><br /><a>I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,</a><br /><a>So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.</a><br /><a>In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,</a><br /><a>And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:</a><br /><a>But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true</a><br /><a>Than those that have more cunning to be strange.</a><br /><a>I should have been more strange, I must confess,</a><br /><a>But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,</a><br /><a>My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,</a><br /><a>And not impute this yielding to light love,</a><br /><a>Which the dark night hath so discovered.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear</a><br /><a>That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,</a><br /><a>That monthly changes in her circled orb,</a><br /><a>Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What shall I swear by?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Do not swear at all;</a><br /><a>Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,</a><br /><a>Which is the god of my idolatry,</a><br /><a>And I'll believe thee.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>If my heart's dear love--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,</a><br /><a>I have no joy of this contract to-night:</a><br /><a>It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;</a><br /><a>Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be</a><br /><a>Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!</a><br /><a>This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,</a><br /><a>May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.</a><br /><a>Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest</a><br /><a>Come to thy heart as that within my breast!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:</a><br /><a>And yet I would it were to give again.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>But to be frank, and give it thee again.</a><br /><a>And yet I wish but for the thing I have:</a><br /><a>My bounty is as boundless as the sea,</a><br /><a>My love as deep; the more I give to thee,</a><br /><a>The more I have, for both are infinite.</a><br /><p><i>Nurse calls within</i></p><a>I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!</a><br /><a>Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.</a><br /><a>Stay but a little, I will come again.</a><br /><p><i>Exit, above</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.</a><br /><a>Being in night, all this is but a dream,</a><br /><a>Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.</a><br /><p><i>Re-enter JULIET, above</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.</a><br /><a>If that thy bent of love be honourable,</a><br /><a>Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,</a><br /><a>By one that I'll procure to come to thee,</a><br /><a>Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;</a><br /><a>And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay</a><br /><a>And follow thee my lord throughout the world.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>[Within]  Madam!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,</a><br /><a>I do beseech thee--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>[Within]  Madam!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>By and by, I come:--</a><br /><a>To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:</a><br /><a>To-morrow will I send.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>So thrive my soul--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>A thousand times good night!</a><br /><p><i>Exit, above</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.</a><br /><a>Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from</a><br /><a>their books,</a><br /><a>But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.</a><br /><p><i>Retiring</i></p><p><i>Re-enter JULIET, above</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,</a><br /><a>To lure this tassel-gentle back again!</a><br /><a>Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;</a><br /><a>Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,</a><br /><a>And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,</a><br /><a>With repetition of my Romeo's name.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>It is my soul that calls upon my name:</a><br /><a>How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,</a><br /><a>Like softest music to attending ears!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>     My dear?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>                  At what o'clock to-morrow</a><br /><a>Shall I send to thee?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>At the hour of nine.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.</a><br /><a>I have forgot why I did call thee back.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Let me stand here till thou remember it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,</a><br /><a>Remembering how I love thy company.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,</a><br /><a>Forgetting any other home but this.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:</a><br /><a>And yet no further than a wanton's bird;</a><br /><a>Who lets it hop a little from her hand,</a><br /><a>Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,</a><br /><a>And with a silk thread plucks it back again,</a><br /><a>So loving-jealous of his liberty.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I would I were thy bird.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Sweet, so would I:</a><br /><a>Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.</a><br /><a>Good night, good night! parting is such</a><br /><a>sweet sorrow,</a><br /><a>That I shall say good night till it be morrow.</a><br /><p><i>Exit above</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!</a><br /><a>Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!</a><br /><a>Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,</a><br /><a>His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 75 ><blockquote><i>Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket</i></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,</a><br /><a>Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,</a><br /><a>And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels</a><br /><a>From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:</a><br /><a>Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,</a><br /><a>The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,</a><br /><a>I must up-fill this osier cage of ours</a><br /><a>With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.</a><br /><a>The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;</a><br /><a>What is her burying grave that is her womb,</a><br /><a>And from her womb children of divers kind</a><br /><a>We sucking on her natural bosom find,</a><br /><a>Many for many virtues excellent,</a><br /><a>None but for some and yet all different.</a><br /><a>O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies</a><br /><a>In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:</a><br /><a>For nought so vile that on the earth doth live</a><br /><a>But to the earth some special good doth give,</a><br /><a>Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use</a><br /><a>Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:</a><br /><a>Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;</a><br /><a>And vice sometimes by action dignified.</a><br /><a>Within the infant rind of this small flower</a><br /><a>Poison hath residence and medicine power:</a><br /><a>For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;</a><br /><a>Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.</a><br /><a>Two such opposed kings encamp them still</a><br /><a>In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;</a><br /><a>And where the worser is predominant,</a><br /><a>Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.</a><br /><p><i>Enter ROMEO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Good morrow, father.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Benedicite!</a><br /><a>What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?</a><br /><a>Young son, it argues a distemper'd head</a><br /><a>So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:</a><br /><a>Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,</a><br /><a>And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;</a><br /><a>But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain</a><br /><a>Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:</a><br /><a>Therefore thy earliness doth me assure</a><br /><a>Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;</a><br /><a>Or if not so, then here I hit it right,</a><br /><a>Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;</a><br /><a>I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.</a><br /><a>I have been feasting with mine enemy,</a><br /><a>Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,</a><br /><a>That's by me wounded: both our remedies</a><br /><a>Within thy help and holy physic lies:</a><br /><a>I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,</a><br /><a>My intercession likewise steads my foe.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;</a><br /><a>Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set</a><br /><a>On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:</a><br /><a>As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;</a><br /><a>And all combined, save what thou must combine</a><br /><a>By holy marriage: when and where and how</a><br /><a>We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,</a><br /><a>I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,</a><br /><a>That thou consent to marry us to-day.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!</a><br /><a>Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,</a><br /><a>So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies</a><br /><a>Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.</a><br /><a>Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine</a><br /><a>Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!</a><br /><a>How much salt water thrown away in waste,</a><br /><a>To season love, that of it doth not taste!</a><br /><a>The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,</a><br /><a>Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;</a><br /><a>Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit</a><br /><a>Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:</a><br /><a>If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,</a><br /><a>Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:</a><br /><a>And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,</a><br /><a>Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>And bad'st me bury love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Not in a grave,</a><br /><a>To lay one in, another out to have.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now</a><br /><a>Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;</a><br /><a>The other did not so.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>O, she knew well</a><br /><a>Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.</a><br /><a>But come, young waverer, come, go with me,</a><br /><a>In one respect I'll thy assistant be;</a><br /><a>For this alliance may so happy prove,</a><br /><a>To turn your households' rancour to pure love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 76 ><blockquote><i>Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO</i></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Where the devil should this Romeo be?</a><br /><a>Came he not home to-night?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.</a><br /><a>Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,</a><br /><a>Hath sent a letter to his father's house.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>A challenge, on my life.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo will answer it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Any man that can write may answer a letter.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he</a><br /><a>dares, being dared.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a</a><br /><a>white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a</a><br /><a>love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the</a><br /><a>blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to</a><br /><a>encounter Tybalt?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, what is Tybalt?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is</a><br /><a>the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as</a><br /><a>you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and</a><br /><a>proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and</a><br /><a>the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk</a><br /><a>button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the</a><br /><a>very first house, of the first and second cause:</a><br /><a>ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the</a><br /><a>hai!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>The what?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting</a><br /><a>fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,</a><br /><a>a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good</a><br /><a>whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing,</a><br /><a>grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with</a><br /><a>these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these</a><br /><a>perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,</a><br /><a>that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their</a><br /><a>bones, their bones!</a><br /><p><i>Enter ROMEO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh,</a><br /><a>how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers</a><br /><a>that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a</a><br /><a>kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to</a><br /><a>be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy;</a><br /><a>Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey</a><br /><a>eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior</a><br /><a>Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation</a><br /><a>to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit</a><br /><a>fairly last night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in</a><br /><a>such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>That's as much as to say, such a case as yours</a><br /><a>constrains a man to bow in the hams.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Meaning, to court'sy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou hast most kindly hit it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>A most courteous exposition.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Pink for flower.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Right.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, then is my pump well flowered.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast</a><br /><a>worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it</a><br /><a>is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O single-soled jest, solely singular for the</a><br /><a>singleness.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have</a><br /><a>done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of</a><br /><a>thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five:</a><br /><a>was I with you there for the goose?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast</a><br /><a>not there for the goose.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, good goose, bite not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most</a><br /><a>sharp sauce.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an</a><br /><a>inch narrow to an ell broad!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added</a><br /><a>to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?</a><br /><a>now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art</a><br /><a>thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:</a><br /><a>for this drivelling love is like a great natural,</a><br /><a>that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Stop there, stop there.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:</a><br /><a>for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and</a><br /><a>meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Here's goodly gear!</a><br /><p><i>Enter Nurse and PETER</i></p></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>A sail, a sail!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Two, two; a shirt and a smock.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Peter!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Anon!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>My fan, Peter.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the</a><br /><a>fairer face.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>God ye good morrow, gentlemen.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Is it good den?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the</a><br /><a>dial is now upon the prick of noon.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Out upon you! what a man are you!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to</a><br /><a>mar.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,'</a><br /><a>quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I</a><br /><a>may find the young Romeo?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when</a><br /><a>you have found him than he was when you sought him:</a><br /><a>I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>You say well.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;</a><br /><a>wisely, wisely.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with</a><br /><a>you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>She will indite him to some supper.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What hast thou found?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,</a><br /><a>that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.</a><br /><p><i>Sings</i></p><a>An old hare hoar,</a><br /><a>And an old hare hoar,</a><br /><a>Is very good meat in lent</a><br /><a>But a hare that is hoar</a><br /><a>Is too much for a score,</a><br /><a>When it hoars ere it be spent.</a><br /><a>Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll</a><br /><a>to dinner, thither.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I will follow you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,</a><br /><p><i>Singing</i></p><a>'lady, lady, lady.'</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy</a><br /><a>merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,</a><br /><a>and will speak more in a minute than he will stand</a><br /><a>to in a month.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him</a><br /><a>down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such</a><br /><a>Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.</a><br /><a>Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am</a><br /><a>none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by</a><br /><a>too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon</a><br /><a>should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare</a><br /><a>draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a</a><br /><a>good quarrel, and the law on my side.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about</a><br /><a>me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:</a><br /><a>and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you</a><br /><a>out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:</a><br /><a>but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into</a><br /><a>a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross</a><br /><a>kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman</a><br /><a>is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double</a><br /><a>with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered</a><br /><a>to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I</a><br /><a>protest unto thee--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:</a><br /><a>Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as</a><br /><a>I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Bid her devise</a><br /><a>Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;</a><br /><a>And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell</a><br /><a>Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>No truly sir; not a penny.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Go to; I say you shall.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:</a><br /><a>Within this hour my man shall be with thee</a><br /><a>And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;</a><br /><a>Which to the high top-gallant of my joy</a><br /><a>Must be my convoy in the secret night.</a><br /><a>Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:</a><br /><a>Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What say'st thou, my dear nurse?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,</a><br /><a>Two may keep counsel, putting one away?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>NURSE</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,</a><br /><a>Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there</a><br /><a>is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain</a><br /><a>lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief</a><br /><a>see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her</a><br /><a>sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer</a><br /><a>man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks</a><br /><a>as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not</a><br /><a>rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for</a><br /><a>the--No; I know it begins with some other</a><br /><a>letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of</a><br /><a>it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good</a><br /><a>to hear it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Commend me to thy lady.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, a thousand times.</a><br /><p><i>Exit Romeo</i></p><a>Peter!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Anon!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 77 ><blockquote><i>Enter JULIET</i></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;</a><br /><a>In half an hour she promised to return.</a><br /><a>Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.</a><br /><a>O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,</a><br /><a>Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,</a><br /><a>Driving back shadows over louring hills:</a><br /><a>Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,</a><br /><a>And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.</a><br /><a>Now is the sun upon the highmost hill</a><br /><a>Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve</a><br /><a>Is three long hours, yet she is not come.</a><br /><a>Had she affections and warm youthful blood,</a><br /><a>She would be as swift in motion as a ball;</a><br /><a>My words would bandy her to my sweet love,</a><br /><a>And his to me:</a><br /><a>But old folks, many feign as they were dead;</a><br /><a>Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.</a><br /><a>O God, she comes!</a><br /><p><i>Enter Nurse and PETER</i></p><a>O honey nurse, what news?</a><br /><a>Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Peter, stay at the gate.</a><br /><p><i>Exit PETER</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad?</a><br /><a>Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;</a><br /><a>If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news</a><br /><a>By playing it to me with so sour a face.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:</a><br /><a>Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:</a><br /><a>Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?</a><br /><a>Do you not see that I am out of breath?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath</a><br /><a>To say to me that thou art out of breath?</a><br /><a>The excuse that thou dost make in this delay</a><br /><a>Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.</a><br /><a>Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;</a><br /><a>Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:</a><br /><a>Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not</a><br /><a>how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his</a><br /><a>face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels</a><br /><a>all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,</a><br /><a>though they be not to be talked on, yet they are</a><br /><a>past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,</a><br /><a>but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy</a><br /><a>ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>No, no: but all this did I know before.</a><br /><a>What says he of our marriage? what of that?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!</a><br /><a>It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.</a><br /><a>My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!</a><br /><a>Beshrew your heart for sending me about,</a><br /><a>To catch my death with jaunting up and down!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.</a><br /><a>Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a</a><br /><a>courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I</a><br /><a>warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Where is my mother! why, she is within;</a><br /><a>Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!</a><br /><a>'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,</a><br /><a>Where is your mother?'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O God's lady dear!</a><br /><a>Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;</a><br /><a>Is this the poultice for my aching bones?</a><br /><a>Henceforward do your messages yourself.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I have.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;</a><br /><a>There stays a husband to make you a wife:</a><br /><a>Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,</a><br /><a>They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.</a><br /><a>Hie you to church; I must another way,</a><br /><a>To fetch a ladder, by the which your love</a><br /><a>Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark:</a><br /><a>I am the drudge and toil in your delight,</a><br /><a>But you shall bear the burden soon at night.</a><br /><a>Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 78 ><blockquote><i>Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO</i></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>So smile the heavens upon this holy act,</a><br /><a>That after hours with sorrow chide us not!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,</a><br /><a>It cannot countervail the exchange of joy</a><br /><a>That one short minute gives me in her sight:</a><br /><a>Do thou but close our hands with holy words,</a><br /><a>Then love-devouring death do what he dare;</a><br /><a>It is enough I may but call her mine.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>These violent delights have violent ends</a><br /><a>And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,</a><br /><a>Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey</a><br /><a>Is loathsome in his own deliciousness</a><br /><a>And in the taste confounds the appetite:</a><br /><a>Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;</a><br /><a>Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.</a><br /><p><i>Enter JULIET</i></p><a>Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot</a><br /><a>Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:</a><br /><a>A lover may bestride the gossamer</a><br /><a>That idles in the wanton summer air,</a><br /><a>And yet not fall; so light is vanity.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Good even to my ghostly confessor.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>As much to him, else is his thanks too much.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy</a><br /><a>Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more</a><br /><a>To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath</a><br /><a>This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue</a><br /><a>Unfold the imagined happiness that both</a><br /><a>Receive in either by this dear encounter.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,</a><br /><a>Brags of his substance, not of ornament:</a><br /><a>They are but beggars that can count their worth;</a><br /><a>But my true love is grown to such excess</a><br /><a>I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><a>Come, come with me, and we will make short work;</a><br /><a>For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone</a><br /><a>Till holy church incorporate two in one.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></span><span id = 79 ></span><span id = 80 ><blockquote><i>Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants</i></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:</a><br /><a>The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,</a><br /><a>And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;</a><br /><a>For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou art like one of those fellows that when he</a><br /><a>enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword</a><br /><a>upon the table and says 'God send me no need of</a><br /><a>thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws</a><br /><a>it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Am I like such a fellow?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as</a><br /><a>any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as</a><br /><a>soon moody to be moved.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>And what to?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nay, an there were two such, we should have none</a><br /><a>shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,</a><br /><a>thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,</a><br /><a>or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou</a><br /><a>wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no</a><br /><a>other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what</a><br /><a>eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?</a><br /><a>Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of</a><br /><a>meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as</a><br /><a>an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a</a><br /><a>man for coughing in the street, because he hath</a><br /><a>wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:</a><br /><a>didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing</a><br /><a>his new doublet before Easter? with another, for</a><br /><a>tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou</a><br /><a>wilt tutor me from quarrelling!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man</a><br /><a>should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>The fee-simple! O simple!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>By my head, here come the Capulets.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>By my heel, I care not.</a><br /><p><i>Enter TYBALT and others</i></p></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Follow me close, for I will speak to them.</a><br /><a>Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>And but one word with one of us? couple it with</a><br /><a>something; make it a word and a blow.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you</a><br /><a>will give me occasion.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Could you not take some occasion without giving?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an</a><br /><a>thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but</a><br /><a>discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall</a><br /><a>make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>We talk here in the public haunt of men:</a><br /><a>Either withdraw unto some private place,</a><br /><a>And reason coldly of your grievances,</a><br /><a>Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;</a><br /><a>I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.</a><br /><p><i>Enter ROMEO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:</a><br /><a>Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;</a><br /><a>Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford</a><br /><a>No better term than this,--thou art a villain.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee</a><br /><a>Doth much excuse the appertaining rage</a><br /><a>To such a greeting: villain am I none;</a><br /><a>Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries</a><br /><a>That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I do protest, I never injured thee,</a><br /><a>But love thee better than thou canst devise,</a><br /><a>Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:</a><br /><a>And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender</a><br /><a>As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!</a><br /><a>Alla stoccata carries it away.</a><br /><p><i>Draws</i></p><a>Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>What wouldst thou have with me?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine</a><br /><a>lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you</a><br /><a>shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the</a><br /><a>eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher</a><br /><a>by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your</a><br /><a>ears ere it be out.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>I am for you.</a><br /><p><i>Drawing</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, sir, your passado.</a><br /><p><i>They fight</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.</a><br /><a>Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!</a><br /><a>Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath</a><br /><a>Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:</a><br /><a>Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!</a><br /><p><i>TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers</i></p></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>I am hurt.</a><br /><a>A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.</a><br /><a>Is he gone, and hath nothing?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>What, art thou hurt?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.</a><br /><a>Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.</a><br /><p><i>Exit Page</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a</a><br /><a>church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for</a><br /><a>me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I</a><br /><a>am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'</a><br /><a>both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a</a><br /><a>cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a</a><br /><a>rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of</a><br /><a>arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I</a><br /><a>was hurt under your arm.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I thought all for the best.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MERCUTIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Help me into some house, Benvolio,</a><br /><a>Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!</a><br /><a>They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,</a><br /><a>And soundly too: your houses!</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>This gentleman, the prince's near ally,</a><br /><a>My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt</a><br /><a>In my behalf; my reputation stain'd</a><br /><a>With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour</a><br /><a>Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,</a><br /><a>Thy beauty hath made me effeminate</a><br /><a>And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!</a><br /><p><i>Re-enter BENVOLIO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!</a><br /><a>That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,</a><br /><a>Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>This day's black fate on more days doth depend;</a><br /><a>This but begins the woe, others must end.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!</a><br /><a>Away to heaven, respective lenity,</a><br /><a>And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!</a><br /><p><i>Re-enter TYBALT</i></p><a>Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,</a><br /><a>That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul</a><br /><a>Is but a little way above our heads,</a><br /><a>Staying for thine to keep him company:</a><br /><a>Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>TYBALT</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,</a><br /><a>Shalt with him hence.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>This shall determine that.</a><br /><p><i>They fight; TYBALT falls</i></p></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo, away, be gone!</a><br /><a>The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.</a><br /><a>Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,</a><br /><a>If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, I am fortune's fool!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Why dost thou stay?</a><br /><p><i>Exit ROMEO</i></p><p><i>Enter Citizens,  &amp; c</i></p></blockquote><a><b>First Citizen</b></a><blockquote><a>Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?</a><br /><a>Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>There lies that Tybalt.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Citizen</b></a><blockquote><a>Up, sir, go with me;</a><br /><a>I charge thee in the princes name, obey.</a><br /><p><i>Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives, and others</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Where are the vile beginners of this fray?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>O noble prince, I can discover all</a><br /><a>The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:</a><br /><a>There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,</a><br /><a>That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!</a><br /><a>O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt</a><br /><a>O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,</a><br /><a>For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.</a><br /><a>O cousin, cousin!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BENVOLIO</b></a><blockquote><a>Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;</a><br /><a>Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink</a><br /><a>How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal</a><br /><a>Your high displeasure: all this uttered</a><br /><a>With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,</a><br /><a>Could not take truce with the unruly spleen</a><br /><a>Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts</a><br /><a>With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,</a><br /><a>Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,</a><br /><a>And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats</a><br /><a>Cold death aside, and with the other sends</a><br /><a>It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,</a><br /><a>Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,</a><br /><a>'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than</a><br /><a>his tongue,</a><br /><a>His agile arm beats down their fatal points,</a><br /><a>And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm</a><br /><a>An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life</a><br /><a>Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;</a><br /><a>But by and by comes back to Romeo,</a><br /><a>Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,</a><br /><a>And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I</a><br /><a>Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.</a><br /><a>And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.</a><br /><a>This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>He is a kinsman to the Montague;</a><br /><a>Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:</a><br /><a>Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,</a><br /><a>And all those twenty could but kill one life.</a><br /><a>I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;</a><br /><a>Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;</a><br /><a>Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;</a><br /><a>His fault concludes but what the law should end,</a><br /><a>The life of Tybalt.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>And for that offence</a><br /><a>Immediately we do exile him hence:</a><br /><a>I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,</a><br /><a>My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;</a><br /><a>But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine</a><br /><a>That you shall all repent the loss of mine:</a><br /><a>I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;</a><br /><a>Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:</a><br /><a>Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,</a><br /><a>Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.</a><br /><a>Bear hence this body and attend our will:</a><br /><a>Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 81 ><blockquote><i>Enter JULIET</i></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,</a><br /><a>Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner</a><br /><a>As Phaethon would whip you to the west,</a><br /><a>And bring in cloudy night immediately.</a><br /><a>Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,</a><br /><a>That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo</a><br /><a>Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.</a><br /><a>Lovers can see to do their amorous rites</a><br /><a>By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,</a><br /><a>It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,</a><br /><a>Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,</a><br /><a>And learn me how to lose a winning match,</a><br /><a>Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:</a><br /><a>Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,</a><br /><a>With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,</a><br /><a>Think true love acted simple modesty.</a><br /><a>Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;</a><br /><a>For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night</a><br /><a>Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.</a><br /><a>Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,</a><br /><a>Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,</a><br /><a>Take him and cut him out in little stars,</a><br /><a>And he will make the face of heaven so fine</a><br /><a>That all the world will be in love with night</a><br /><a>And pay no worship to the garish sun.</a><br /><a>O, I have bought the mansion of a love,</a><br /><a>But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,</a><br /><a>Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day</a><br /><a>As is the night before some festival</a><br /><a>To an impatient child that hath new robes</a><br /><a>And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,</a><br /><a>And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks</a><br /><a>But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.</a><br /><p><i>Enter Nurse, with cords</i></p><a>Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords</a><br /><a>That Romeo bid thee fetch?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, ay, the cords.</a><br /><p><i>Throws them down</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!</a><br /><a>We are undone, lady, we are undone!</a><br /><a>Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Can heaven be so envious?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo can,</a><br /><a>Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!</a><br /><a>Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?</a><br /><a>This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.</a><br /><a>Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,'</a><br /><a>And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more</a><br /><a>Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:</a><br /><a>I am not I, if there be such an I;</a><br /><a>Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.'</a><br /><a>If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no:</a><br /><a>Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--</a><br /><a>God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:</a><br /><a>A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;</a><br /><a>Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,</a><br /><a>All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!</a><br /><a>To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!</a><br /><a>Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;</a><br /><a>And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!</a><br /><a>O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!</a><br /><a>That ever I should live to see thee dead!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What storm is this that blows so contrary?</a><br /><a>Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?</a><br /><a>My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?</a><br /><a>Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!</a><br /><a>For who is living, if those two are gone?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;</a><br /><a>Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>It did, it did; alas the day, it did!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!</a><br /><a>Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?</a><br /><a>Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!</a><br /><a>Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!</a><br /><a>Despised substance of divinest show!</a><br /><a>Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,</a><br /><a>A damned saint, an honourable villain!</a><br /><a>O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,</a><br /><a>When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend</a><br /><a>In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?</a><br /><a>Was ever book containing such vile matter</a><br /><a>So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell</a><br /><a>In such a gorgeous palace!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>There's no trust,</a><br /><a>No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,</a><br /><a>All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.</a><br /><a>Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:</a><br /><a>These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.</a><br /><a>Shame come to Romeo!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Blister'd be thy tongue</a><br /><a>For such a wish! he was not born to shame:</a><br /><a>Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;</a><br /><a>For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd</a><br /><a>Sole monarch of the universal earth.</a><br /><a>O, what a beast was I to chide at him!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?</a><br /><a>Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,</a><br /><a>When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?</a><br /><a>But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?</a><br /><a>That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:</a><br /><a>Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;</a><br /><a>Your tributary drops belong to woe,</a><br /><a>Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.</a><br /><a>My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;</a><br /><a>And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:</a><br /><a>All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?</a><br /><a>Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,</a><br /><a>That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;</a><br /><a>But, O, it presses to my memory,</a><br /><a>Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:</a><br /><a>'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;'</a><br /><a>That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'</a><br /><a>Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death</a><br /><a>Was woe enough, if it had ended there:</a><br /><a>Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship</a><br /><a>And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,</a><br /><a>Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,'</a><br /><a>Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,</a><br /><a>Which modern lamentations might have moved?</a><br /><a>But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,</a><br /><a>'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word,</a><br /><a>Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,</a><br /><a>All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'</a><br /><a>There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,</a><br /><a>In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.</a><br /><a>Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:</a><br /><a>Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,</a><br /><a>When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.</a><br /><a>Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled,</a><br /><a>Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:</a><br /><a>He made you for a highway to my bed;</a><br /><a>But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.</a><br /><a>Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;</a><br /><a>And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo</a><br /><a>To comfort you: I wot well where he is.</a><br /><a>Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:</a><br /><a>I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,</a><br /><a>And bid him come to take his last farewell.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 82 ><blockquote><i>Enter FRIAR LAURENCE</i></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:</a><br /><a>Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,</a><br /><a>And thou art wedded to calamity.</a><br /><p><i>Enter ROMEO</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?</a><br /><a>What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,</a><br /><a>That I yet know not?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Too familiar</a><br /><a>Is my dear son with such sour company:</a><br /><a>I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,</a><br /><a>Not body's death, but body's banishment.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'</a><br /><a>For exile hath more terror in his look,</a><br /><a>Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Hence from Verona art thou banished:</a><br /><a>Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>There is no world without Verona walls,</a><br /><a>But purgatory, torture, hell itself.</a><br /><a>Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,</a><br /><a>And world's exile is death: then banished,</a><br /><a>Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,</a><br /><a>Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,</a><br /><a>And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!</a><br /><a>Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,</a><br /><a>Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,</a><br /><a>And turn'd that black word death to banishment:</a><br /><a>This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,</a><br /><a>Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog</a><br /><a>And little mouse, every unworthy thing,</a><br /><a>Live here in heaven and may look on her;</a><br /><a>But Romeo may not: more validity,</a><br /><a>More honourable state, more courtship lives</a><br /><a>In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize</a><br /><a>On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand</a><br /><a>And steal immortal blessing from her lips,</a><br /><a>Who even in pure and vestal modesty,</a><br /><a>Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;</a><br /><a>But Romeo may not; he is banished:</a><br /><a>Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:</a><br /><a>They are free men, but I am banished.</a><br /><a>And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?</a><br /><a>Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,</a><br /><a>No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,</a><br /><a>But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'?</a><br /><a>O friar, the damned use that word in hell;</a><br /><a>Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,</a><br /><a>Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,</a><br /><a>A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,</a><br /><a>To mangle me with that word 'banished'?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:</a><br /><a>Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,</a><br /><a>To comfort thee, though thou art banished.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!</a><br /><a>Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,</a><br /><a>Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,</a><br /><a>It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>O, then I see that madmen have no ears.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:</a><br /><a>Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,</a><br /><a>An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,</a><br /><a>Doting like me and like me banished,</a><br /><a>Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,</a><br /><a>And fall upon the ground, as I do now,</a><br /><a>Taking the measure of an unmade grave.</a><br /><p><i>Knocking within</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,</a><br /><a>Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.</a><br /><p><i>Knocking</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise;</a><br /><a>Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;</a><br /><p><i>Knocking</i></p><a>Run to my study. By and by! God's will,</a><br /><a>What simpleness is this! I come, I come!</a><br /><p><i>Knocking</i></p><a>Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>[Within]  Let me come in, and you shall know</a><br /><a>my errand;</a><br /><a>I come from Lady Juliet.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Welcome, then.</a><br /><p><i>Enter Nurse</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,</a><br /><a>Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O, he is even in my mistress' case,</a><br /><a>Just in her case! O woful sympathy!</a><br /><a>Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,</a><br /><a>Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.</a><br /><a>Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:</a><br /><a>For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;</a><br /><a>Why should you fall into so deep an O?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Nurse!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?</a><br /><a>Doth she not think me an old murderer,</a><br /><a>Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy</a><br /><a>With blood removed but little from her own?</a><br /><a>Where is she? and how doth she? and what says</a><br /><a>My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;</a><br /><a>And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,</a><br /><a>And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,</a><br /><a>And then down falls again.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>As if that name,</a><br /><a>Shot from the deadly level of a gun,</a><br /><a>Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand</a><br /><a>Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,</a><br /><a>In what vile part of this anatomy</a><br /><a>Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack</a><br /><a>The hateful mansion.</a><br /><p><i>Drawing his sword</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Hold thy desperate hand:</a><br /><a>Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:</a><br /><a>Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote</a><br /><a>The unreasonable fury of a beast:</a><br /><a>Unseemly woman in a seeming man!</a><br /><a>Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!</a><br /><a>Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,</a><br /><a>I thought thy disposition better temper'd.</a><br /><a>Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?</a><br /><a>And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,</a><br /><a>By doing damned hate upon thyself?</a><br /><a>Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?</a><br /><a>Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet</a><br /><a>In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.</a><br /><a>Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;</a><br /><a>Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,</a><br /><a>And usest none in that true use indeed</a><br /><a>Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:</a><br /><a>Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,</a><br /><a>Digressing from the valour of a man;</a><br /><a>Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,</a><br /><a>Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;</a><br /><a>Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,</a><br /><a>Misshapen in the conduct of them both,</a><br /><a>Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,</a><br /><a>Is set afire by thine own ignorance,</a><br /><a>And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.</a><br /><a>What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,</a><br /><a>For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;</a><br /><a>There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,</a><br /><a>But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:</a><br /><a>The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend</a><br /><a>And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:</a><br /><a>A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;</a><br /><a>Happiness courts thee in her best array;</a><br /><a>But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,</a><br /><a>Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:</a><br /><a>Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.</a><br /><a>Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,</a><br /><a>Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:</a><br /><a>But look thou stay not till the watch be set,</a><br /><a>For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;</a><br /><a>Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time</a><br /><a>To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,</a><br /><a>Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back</a><br /><a>With twenty hundred thousand times more joy</a><br /><a>Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.</a><br /><a>Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;</a><br /><a>And bid her hasten all the house to bed,</a><br /><a>Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:</a><br /><a>Romeo is coming.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night</a><br /><a>To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!</a><br /><a>My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:</a><br /><a>Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>How well my comfort is revived by this!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:</a><br /><a>Either be gone before the watch be set,</a><br /><a>Or by the break of day disguised from hence:</a><br /><a>Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,</a><br /><a>And he shall signify from time to time</a><br /><a>Every good hap to you that chances here:</a><br /><a>Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>But that a joy past joy calls out on me,</a><br /><a>It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 83 ><blockquote><i>Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS</i></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,</a><br /><a>That we have had no time to move our daughter:</a><br /><a>Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,</a><br /><a>And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.</a><br /><a>'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:</a><br /><a>I promise you, but for your company,</a><br /><a>I would have been a-bed an hour ago.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>These times of woe afford no time to woo.</a><br /><a>Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;</a><br /><a>To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender</a><br /><a>Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled</a><br /><a>In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.</a><br /><a>Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;</a><br /><a>Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;</a><br /><a>And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--</a><br /><a>But, soft! what day is this?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Monday, my lord,</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,</a><br /><a>O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,</a><br /><a>She shall be married to this noble earl.</a><br /><a>Will you be ready? do you like this haste?</a><br /><a>We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;</a><br /><a>For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,</a><br /><a>It may be thought we held him carelessly,</a><br /><a>Being our kinsman, if we revel much:</a><br /><a>Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,</a><br /><a>And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.</a><br /><a>Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,</a><br /><a>Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.</a><br /><a>Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!</a><br /><a>Afore me! it is so very very late,</a><br /><a>That we may call it early by and by.</a><br /><a>Good night.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 84 ><h3>SCENE V. Capulet's orchard.</h3><blockquote><i>Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window</i></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:</a><br /><a>It was the nightingale, and not the lark,</a><br /><a>That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;</a><br /><a>Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:</a><br /><a>Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>It was the lark, the herald of the morn,</a><br /><a>No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks</a><br /><a>Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:</a><br /><a>Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day</a><br /><a>Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.</a><br /><a>I must be gone and live, or stay and die.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:</a><br /><a>It is some meteor that the sun exhales,</a><br /><a>To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,</a><br /><a>And light thee on thy way to Mantua:</a><br /><a>Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;</a><br /><a>I am content, so thou wilt have it so.</a><br /><a>I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,</a><br /><a>'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;</a><br /><a>Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat</a><br /><a>The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:</a><br /><a>I have more care to stay than will to go:</a><br /><a>Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.</a><br /><a>How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!</a><br /><a>It is the lark that sings so out of tune,</a><br /><a>Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.</a><br /><a>Some say the lark makes sweet division;</a><br /><a>This doth not so, for she divideth us:</a><br /><a>Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,</a><br /><a>O, now I would they had changed voices too!</a><br /><a>Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,</a><br /><a>Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,</a><br /><a>O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!</a><br /><p><i>Enter Nurse, to the chamber</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Nurse?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:</a><br /><a>The day is broke; be wary, look about.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Then, window, let day in, and let life out.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.</a><br /><p><i>He goeth down</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!</a><br /><a>I must hear from thee every day in the hour,</a><br /><a>For in a minute there are many days:</a><br /><a>O, by this count I shall be much in years</a><br /><a>Ere I again behold my Romeo!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Farewell!</a><br /><a>I will omit no opportunity</a><br /><a>That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve</a><br /><a>For sweet discourses in our time to come.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O God, I have an ill-divining soul!</a><br /><a>Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,</a><br /><a>As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:</a><br /><a>Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:</a><br /><a>Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:</a><br /><a>If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.</a><br /><a>That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;</a><br /><a>For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,</a><br /><a>But send him back.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>[Within]         Ho, daughter! are you up?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?</a><br /><a>Is she not down so late, or up so early?</a><br /><a>What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?</a><br /><p><i>Enter LADY CAPULET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, how now, Juliet!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam, I am not well.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?</a><br /><a>What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?</a><br /><a>An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;</a><br /><a>Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;</a><br /><a>But much of grief shows still some want of wit.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend</a><br /><a>Which you weep for.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Feeling so the loss,</a><br /><a>Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,</a><br /><a>As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What villain madam?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>That same villain, Romeo.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>[Aside]  Villain and he be many miles asunder.--</a><br /><a>God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;</a><br /><a>And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>That is, because the traitor murderer lives.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:</a><br /><a>Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:</a><br /><a>Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,</a><br /><a>Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,</a><br /><a>Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,</a><br /><a>That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:</a><br /><a>And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Indeed, I never shall be satisfied</a><br /><a>With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--</a><br /><a>Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.</a><br /><a>Madam, if you could find out but a man</a><br /><a>To bear a poison, I would temper it;</a><br /><a>That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,</a><br /><a>Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors</a><br /><a>To hear him named, and cannot come to him.</a><br /><a>To wreak the love I bore my cousin</a><br /><a>Upon his body that slaughter'd him!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.</a><br /><a>But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>And joy comes well in such a needy time:</a><br /><a>What are they, I beseech your ladyship?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;</a><br /><a>One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,</a><br /><a>Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,</a><br /><a>That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Madam, in happy time, what day is that?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,</a><br /><a>The gallant, young and noble gentleman,</a><br /><a>The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,</a><br /><a>Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,</a><br /><a>He shall not make me there a joyful bride.</a><br /><a>I wonder at this haste; that I must wed</a><br /><a>Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.</a><br /><a>I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,</a><br /><a>I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,</a><br /><a>It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,</a><br /><a>Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,</a><br /><a>And see how he will take it at your hands.</a><br /><p><i>Enter CAPULET and Nurse</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;</a><br /><a>But for the sunset of my brother's son</a><br /><a>It rains downright.</a><br /><a>How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?</a><br /><a>Evermore showering? In one little body</a><br /><a>Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;</a><br /><a>For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,</a><br /><a>Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,</a><br /><a>Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;</a><br /><a>Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,</a><br /><a>Without a sudden calm, will overset</a><br /><a>Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!</a><br /><a>Have you deliver'd to her our decree?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.</a><br /><a>I would the fool were married to her grave!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.</a><br /><a>How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?</a><br /><a>Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,</a><br /><a>Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought</a><br /><a>So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:</a><br /><a>Proud can I never be of what I hate;</a><br /><a>But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?</a><br /><a>'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'</a><br /><a>And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you,</a><br /><a>Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,</a><br /><a>But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,</a><br /><a>To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,</a><br /><a>Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.</a><br /><a>Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!</a><br /><a>You tallow-face!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Fie, fie! what, are you mad?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Good father, I beseech you on my knees,</a><br /><a>Hear me with patience but to speak a word.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!</a><br /><a>I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,</a><br /><a>Or never after look me in the face:</a><br /><a>Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;</a><br /><a>My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest</a><br /><a>That God had lent us but this only child;</a><br /><a>But now I see this one is one too much,</a><br /><a>And that we have a curse in having her:</a><br /><a>Out on her, hilding!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>God in heaven bless her!</a><br /><a>You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,</a><br /><a>Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>I speak no treason.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>O, God ye god-den.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>May not one speak?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Peace, you mumbling fool!</a><br /><a>Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;</a><br /><a>For here we need it not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>You are too hot.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>God's bread! it makes me mad:</a><br /><a>Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,</a><br /><a>Alone, in company, still my care hath been</a><br /><a>To have her match'd: and having now provided</a><br /><a>A gentleman of noble parentage,</a><br /><a>Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,</a><br /><a>Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,</a><br /><a>Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man;</a><br /><a>And then to have a wretched puling fool,</a><br /><a>A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,</a><br /><a>To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,</a><br /><a>I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'</a><br /><a>But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you:</a><br /><a>Graze where you will you shall not house with me:</a><br /><a>Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.</a><br /><a>Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:</a><br /><a>An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;</a><br /><a>And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in</a><br /><a>the streets,</a><br /><a>For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,</a><br /><a>Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:</a><br /><a>Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,</a><br /><a>That sees into the bottom of my grief?</a><br /><a>O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!</a><br /><a>Delay this marriage for a month, a week;</a><br /><a>Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed</a><br /><a>In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word:</a><br /><a>Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented?</a><br /><a>My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;</a><br /><a>How shall that faith return again to earth,</a><br /><a>Unless that husband send it me from heaven</a><br /><a>By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.</a><br /><a>Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems</a><br /><a>Upon so soft a subject as myself!</a><br /><a>What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?</a><br /><a>Some comfort, nurse.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Faith, here it is.</a><br /><a>Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,</a><br /><a>That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;</a><br /><a>Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.</a><br /><a>Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,</a><br /><a>I think it best you married with the county.</a><br /><a>O, he's a lovely gentleman!</a><br /><a>Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,</a><br /><a>Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye</a><br /><a>As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,</a><br /><a>I think you are happy in this second match,</a><br /><a>For it excels your first: or if it did not,</a><br /><a>Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,</a><br /><a>As living here and you no use of him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Speakest thou from thy heart?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>And from my soul too;</a><br /><a>Or else beshrew them both.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Amen!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>What?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.</a><br /><a>Go in: and tell my lady I am gone,</a><br /><a>Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,</a><br /><a>To make confession and to be absolved.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><a><br /></a><br /><blockquote><a>Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!</a><br /><a>Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,</a><br /><a>Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue</a><br /><a>Which she hath praised him with above compare</a><br /><a>So many thousand times? Go, counsellor;</a><br /><a>Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.</a><br /><a>I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:</a><br /><a>If all else fail, myself have power to die.</a><br /></blockquote><p><i>Exit</i></p></span><span id = 85 ></span><span id = 86 ><blockquote><i>Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS</i></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>My father Capulet will have it so;</a><br /><a>And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>You say you do not know the lady's mind:</a><br /><a>Uneven is the course, I like it not.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,</a><br /><a>And therefore have I little talk'd of love;</a><br /><a>For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.</a><br /><a>Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous</a><br /><a>That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,</a><br /><a>And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,</a><br /><a>To stop the inundation of her tears;</a><br /><a>Which, too much minded by herself alone,</a><br /><a>May be put from her by society:</a><br /><a>Now do you know the reason of this haste.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>[Aside]  I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.</a><br /><a>Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.</a><br /><p><i>Enter JULIET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Happily met, my lady and my wife!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>What must be shall be.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>That's a certain text.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Come you to make confession to this father?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>To answer that, I should confess to you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Do not deny to him that you love me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I will confess to you that I love him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>If I do so, it will be of more price,</a><br /><a>Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>The tears have got small victory by that;</a><br /><a>For it was bad enough before their spite.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;</a><br /><a>And what I spake, I spake it to my face.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>It may be so, for it is not mine own.</a><br /><a>Are you at leisure, holy father, now;</a><br /><a>Or shall I come to you at evening mass?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.</a><br /><a>My lord, we must entreat the time alone.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>God shield I should disturb devotion!</a><br /><a>Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:</a><br /><a>Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,</a><br /><a>Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;</a><br /><a>It strains me past the compass of my wits:</a><br /><a>I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,</a><br /><a>On Thursday next be married to this county.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,</a><br /><a>Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:</a><br /><a>If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,</a><br /><a>Do thou but call my resolution wise,</a><br /><a>And with this knife I'll help it presently.</a><br /><a>God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;</a><br /><a>And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,</a><br /><a>Shall be the label to another deed,</a><br /><a>Or my true heart with treacherous revolt</a><br /><a>Turn to another, this shall slay them both:</a><br /><a>Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,</a><br /><a>Give me some present counsel, or, behold,</a><br /><a>'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife</a><br /><a>Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that</a><br /><a>Which the commission of thy years and art</a><br /><a>Could to no issue of true honour bring.</a><br /><a>Be not so long to speak; I long to die,</a><br /><a>If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,</a><br /><a>Which craves as desperate an execution.</a><br /><a>As that is desperate which we would prevent.</a><br /><a>If, rather than to marry County Paris,</a><br /><a>Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,</a><br /><a>Then is it likely thou wilt undertake</a><br /><a>A thing like death to chide away this shame,</a><br /><a>That copest with death himself to scape from it:</a><br /><a>And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,</a><br /><a>From off the battlements of yonder tower;</a><br /><a>Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk</a><br /><a>Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;</a><br /><a>Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,</a><br /><a>O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,</a><br /><a>With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;</a><br /><a>Or bid me go into a new-made grave</a><br /><a>And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;</a><br /><a>Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;</a><br /><a>And I will do it without fear or doubt,</a><br /><a>To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent</a><br /><a>To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:</a><br /><a>To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;</a><br /><a>Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:</a><br /><a>Take thou this vial, being then in bed,</a><br /><a>And this distilled liquor drink thou off;</a><br /><a>When presently through all thy veins shall run</a><br /><a>A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse</a><br /><a>Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:</a><br /><a>No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;</a><br /><a>The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade</a><br /><a>To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,</a><br /><a>Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;</a><br /><a>Each part, deprived of supple government,</a><br /><a>Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:</a><br /><a>And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death</a><br /><a>Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,</a><br /><a>And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.</a><br /><a>Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes</a><br /><a>To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:</a><br /><a>Then, as the manner of our country is,</a><br /><a>In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier</a><br /><a>Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault</a><br /><a>Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.</a><br /><a>In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,</a><br /><a>Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,</a><br /><a>And hither shall he come: and he and I</a><br /><a>Will watch thy waking, and that very night</a><br /><a>Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.</a><br /><a>And this shall free thee from this present shame;</a><br /><a>If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,</a><br /><a>Abate thy valour in the acting it.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous</a><br /><a>In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed</a><br /><a>To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.</a><br /><a>Farewell, dear father!</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 87 ><blockquote><i>Enter CAPULET, LADY  CAPULET, Nurse, and two Servingmen</i></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>So many guests invite as here are writ.</a><br /><p><i>Exit First Servant</i></p><a>Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they</a><br /><a>can lick their fingers.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>How canst thou try them so?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his</a><br /><a>own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his</a><br /><a>fingers goes not with me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Go, be gone.</a><br /><p><i>Exit Second Servant</i></p><a>We shall be much unfurnished for this time.</a><br /><a>What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, forsooth.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Well, he may chance to do some good on her:</a><br /><a>A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>See where she comes from shrift with merry look.</a><br /><p><i>Enter JULIET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin</a><br /><a>Of disobedient opposition</a><br /><a>To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd</a><br /><a>By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,</a><br /><a>And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!</a><br /><a>Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Send for the county; go tell him of this:</a><br /><a>I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;</a><br /><a>And gave him what becomed love I might,</a><br /><a>Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:</a><br /><a>This is as't should be. Let me see the county;</a><br /><a>Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.</a><br /><a>Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,</a><br /><a>Our whole city is much bound to him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,</a><br /><a>To help me sort such needful ornaments</a><br /><a>As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt JULIET and Nurse</i></p></blockquote><a><b>LADY  CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>We shall be short in our provision:</a><br /><a>'Tis now near night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Tush, I will stir about,</a><br /><a>And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:</a><br /><a>Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;</a><br /><a>I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;</a><br /><a>I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!</a><br /><a>They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself</a><br /><a>To County Paris, to prepare him up</a><br /><a>Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,</a><br /><a>Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 88 ><blockquote><i>Enter JULIET and Nurse</i></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse,</a><br /><a>I pray thee, leave me to my self to-night,</a><br /><a>For I have need of many orisons</a><br /><a>To move the heavens to smile upon my state,</a><br /><a>Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin.</a><br /><p><i>Enter LADY CAPULET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries</a><br /><a>As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:</a><br /><a>So please you, let me now be left alone,</a><br /><a>And let the nurse this night sit up with you;</a><br /><a>For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,</a><br /><a>In this so sudden business.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Good night:</a><br /><a>Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.</a><br /><a>I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,</a><br /><a>That almost freezes up the heat of life:</a><br /><a>I'll call them back again to comfort me:</a><br /><a>Nurse! What should she do here?</a><br /><a>My dismal scene I needs must act alone.</a><br /><a>Come, vial.</a><br /><a>What if this mixture do not work at all?</a><br /><a>Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?</a><br /><a>No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there.</a><br /><p><i>Laying down her dagger</i></p><a>What if it be a poison, which the friar</a><br /><a>Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,</a><br /><a>Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,</a><br /><a>Because he married me before to Romeo?</a><br /><a>I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,</a><br /><a>For he hath still been tried a holy man.</a><br /><a>How if, when I am laid into the tomb,</a><br /><a>I wake before the time that Romeo</a><br /><a>Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!</a><br /><a>Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,</a><br /><a>To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,</a><br /><a>And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?</a><br /><a>Or, if I live, is it not very like,</a><br /><a>The horrible conceit of death and night,</a><br /><a>Together with the terror of the place,--</a><br /><a>As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,</a><br /><a>Where, for these many hundred years, the bones</a><br /><a>Of all my buried ancestors are packed:</a><br /><a>Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,</a><br /><a>Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,</a><br /><a>At some hours in the night spirits resort;--</a><br /><a>Alack, alack, is it not like that I,</a><br /><a>So early waking, what with loathsome smells,</a><br /><a>And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,</a><br /><a>That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:--</a><br /><a>O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,</a><br /><a>Environed with all these hideous fears?</a><br /><a>And madly play with my forefather's joints?</a><br /><a>And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?</a><br /><a>And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,</a><br /><a>As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?</a><br /><a>O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost</a><br /><a>Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body</a><br /><a>Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay!</a><br /><a>Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.</a><br /><p><i>She falls upon her bed, within the curtains</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 89 ><blockquote><i>Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse</i></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.</a><br /><p><i>Enter CAPULET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,</a><br /><a>The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:</a><br /><a>Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:</a><br /><a>Spare not for the cost.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Go, you cot-quean, go,</a><br /><a>Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow</a><br /><a>For this night's watching.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now</a><br /><a>All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;</a><br /><a>But I will watch you from such watching now.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>A jealous hood, a jealous hood!</a><br /><p><i>Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, logs, and baskets</i></p><a>Now, fellow,</a><br /><a>What's there?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Make haste, make haste.</a><br /><p><i>Exit First Servant</i></p><a>Sirrah, fetch drier logs:</a><br /><a>Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Servant</b></a><blockquote><a>I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,</a><br /><a>And never trouble Peter for the matter.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!</a><br /><a>Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day:</a><br /><a>The county will be here with music straight,</a><br /><a>For so he said he would: I hear him near.</a><br /><p><i>Music within</i></p><a>Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say!</a><br /><p><i>Re-enter Nurse</i></p><a>Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;</a><br /><a>I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste,</a><br /><a>Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already:</a><br /><a>Make haste, I say.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 90 ><blockquote><i>Enter Nurse</i></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she:</a><br /><a>Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!</a><br /><a>Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!</a><br /><a>What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now;</a><br /><a>Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,</a><br /><a>The County Paris hath set up his rest,</a><br /><a>That you shall rest but little. God forgive me,</a><br /><a>Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!</a><br /><a>I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!</a><br /><a>Ay, let the county take you in your bed;</a><br /><a>He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?</a><br /><p><i>Undraws the curtains</i></p><a>What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!</a><br /><a>I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady!</a><br /><a>Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!</a><br /><a>O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!</a><br /><a>Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady!</a><br /><p><i>Enter LADY CAPULET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What noise is here?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O lamentable day!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What is the matter?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Look, look! O heavy day!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>O me, O me! My child, my only life,</a><br /><a>Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!</a><br /><a>Help, help! Call help.</a><br /><p><i>Enter CAPULET</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold:</a><br /><a>Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;</a><br /><a>Life and these lips have long been separated:</a><br /><a>Death lies on her like an untimely frost</a><br /><a>Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O lamentable day!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>                  O woful time!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,</a><br /><a>Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.</a><br /><p><i>Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, is the bride ready to go to church?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Ready to go, but never to return.</a><br /><a>O son! the night before thy wedding-day</a><br /><a>Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,</a><br /><a>Flower as she was, deflowered by him.</a><br /><a>Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;</a><br /><a>My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,</a><br /><a>And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Have I thought long to see this morning's face,</a><br /><a>And doth it give me such a sight as this?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!</a><br /><a>Most miserable hour that e'er time saw</a><br /><a>In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!</a><br /><a>But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,</a><br /><a>But one thing to rejoice and solace in,</a><br /><a>And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!</a><br /><a>Most lamentable day, most woful day,</a><br /><a>That ever, ever, I did yet behold!</a><br /><a>O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!</a><br /><a>Never was seen so black a day as this:</a><br /><a>O woful day, O woful day!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!</a><br /><a>Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,</a><br /><a>By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!</a><br /><a>O love! O life! not life, but love in death!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!</a><br /><a>Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now</a><br /><a>To murder, murder our solemnity?</a><br /><a>O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!</a><br /><a>Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;</a><br /><a>And with my child my joys are buried.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not</a><br /><a>In these confusions. Heaven and yourself</a><br /><a>Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,</a><br /><a>And all the better is it for the maid:</a><br /><a>Your part in her you could not keep from death,</a><br /><a>But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.</a><br /><a>The most you sought was her promotion;</a><br /><a>For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:</a><br /><a>And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced</a><br /><a>Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?</a><br /><a>O, in this love, you love your child so ill,</a><br /><a>That you run mad, seeing that she is well:</a><br /><a>She's not well married that lives married long;</a><br /><a>But she's best married that dies married young.</a><br /><a>Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary</a><br /><a>On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,</a><br /><a>In all her best array bear her to church:</a><br /><a>For though fond nature bids us an lament,</a><br /><a>Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>All things that we ordained festival,</a><br /><a>Turn from their office to black funeral;</a><br /><a>Our instruments to melancholy bells,</a><br /><a>Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,</a><br /><a>Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,</a><br /><a>Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,</a><br /><a>And all things change them to the contrary.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;</a><br /><a>And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare</a><br /><a>To follow this fair corse unto her grave:</a><br /><a>The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;</a><br /><a>Move them no more by crossing their high will.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR LAURENCE</i></p></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Nurse</b></a><blockquote><a>Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;</a><br /><a>For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.</a><br /><p><i>Enter PETER</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's</a><br /><a>ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Why 'Heart's ease?'</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My</a><br /><a>heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump,</a><br /><a>to comfort me.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>You will not, then?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>No.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>I will then give it you soundly.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>What will you give us?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>No money, on my faith, but the gleek;</a><br /><a>I will give you the minstrel.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Then I will give you the serving-creature.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on</a><br /><a>your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you,</a><br /><a>I'll fa you; do you note me?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>An you re us and fa us, you note us.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you</a><br /><a>with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer</a><br /><a>me like men:</a><br /><a>'When griping grief the heart doth wound,</a><br /><a>And doleful dumps the mind oppress,</a><br /><a>Then music with her silver sound'--</a><br /><a>why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver</a><br /><a>sound'? What say you, Simon Catling?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Third Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>Faith, I know not what to say.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PETER</b></a><blockquote><a>O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say</a><br /><a>for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'</a><br /><a>because musicians have no gold for sounding:</a><br /><a>'Then music with her silver sound</a><br /><a>With speedy help doth lend redress.'</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>First Musician</b></a><blockquote><a>What a pestilent knave is this same!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Second Musician</b></a><a>Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the</a><br /><a>mourners, and stay dinner.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></span><span id = 91 ></span><span id = 92 ><blockquote><i>Enter ROMEO</i></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,</a><br /><a>My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:</a><br /><a>My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;</a><br /><a>And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit</a><br /><a>Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.</a><br /><a>I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--</a><br /><a>Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave</a><br /><a>to think!--</a><br /><a>And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,</a><br /><a>That I revived, and was an emperor.</a><br /><a>Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,</a><br /><a>When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!</a><br /><p><i>Enter BALTHASAR, booted</i></p><a>News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar!</a><br /><a>Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?</a><br /><a>How doth my lady? Is my father well?</a><br /><a>How fares my Juliet? that I ask again;</a><br /><a>For nothing can be ill, if she be well.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:</a><br /><a>Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,</a><br /><a>And her immortal part with angels lives.</a><br /><a>I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,</a><br /><a>And presently took post to tell it you:</a><br /><a>O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,</a><br /><a>Since you did leave it for my office, sir.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!</a><br /><a>Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,</a><br /><a>And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>I do beseech you, sir, have patience:</a><br /><a>Your looks are pale and wild, and do import</a><br /><a>Some misadventure.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Tush, thou art deceived:</a><br /><a>Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.</a><br /><a>Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>No, my good lord.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>                  No matter: get thee gone,</a><br /><a>And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.</a><br /><p><i>Exit BALTHASAR</i></p><a>Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.</a><br /><a>Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift</a><br /><a>To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!</a><br /><a>I do remember an apothecary,--</a><br /><a>And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted</a><br /><a>In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,</a><br /><a>Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,</a><br /><a>Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:</a><br /><a>And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,</a><br /><a>An alligator stuff'd, and other skins</a><br /><a>Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves</a><br /><a>A beggarly account of empty boxes,</a><br /><a>Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,</a><br /><a>Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,</a><br /><a>Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.</a><br /><a>Noting this penury, to myself I said</a><br /><a>'An if a man did need a poison now,</a><br /><a>Whose sale is present death in Mantua,</a><br /><a>Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.'</a><br /><a>O, this same thought did but forerun my need;</a><br /><a>And this same needy man must sell it me.</a><br /><a>As I remember, this should be the house.</a><br /><a>Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.</a><br /><a>What, ho! apothecary!</a><br /><p><i>Enter Apothecary</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Apothecary</b></a><blockquote><a>Who calls so loud?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor:</a><br /><a>Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have</a><br /><a>A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear</a><br /><a>As will disperse itself through all the veins</a><br /><a>That the life-weary taker may fall dead</a><br /><a>And that the trunk may be discharged of breath</a><br /><a>As violently as hasty powder fired</a><br /><a>Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Apothecary</b></a><blockquote><a>Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law</a><br /><a>Is death to any he that utters them.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,</a><br /><a>And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,</a><br /><a>Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,</a><br /><a>Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;</a><br /><a>The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;</a><br /><a>The world affords no law to make thee rich;</a><br /><a>Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Apothecary</b></a><blockquote><a>My poverty, but not my will, consents.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>Apothecary</b></a><blockquote><a>Put this in any liquid thing you will,</a><br /><a>And drink it off; and, if you had the strength</a><br /><a>Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,</a><br /><a>Doing more murders in this loathsome world,</a><br /><a>Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.</a><br /><a>I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.</a><br /><a>Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.</a><br /><a>Come, cordial and not poison, go with me</a><br /><a>To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 93 ><blockquote><i>Enter FRIAR JOHN</i></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR JOHN</b></a><blockquote><a>Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!</a><br /><p><i>Enter FRIAR LAURENCE</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>This same should be the voice of Friar John.</a><br /><a>Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?</a><br /><a>Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR JOHN</b></a><blockquote><a>Going to find a bare-foot brother out</a><br /><a>One of our order, to associate me,</a><br /><a>Here in this city visiting the sick,</a><br /><a>And finding him, the searchers of the town,</a><br /><a>Suspecting that we both were in a house</a><br /><a>Where the infectious pestilence did reign,</a><br /><a>Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;</a><br /><a>So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR JOHN</b></a><blockquote><a>I could not send it,--here it is again,--</a><br /><a>Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,</a><br /><a>So fearful were they of infection.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,</a><br /><a>The letter was not nice but full of charge</a><br /><a>Of dear import, and the neglecting it</a><br /><a>May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;</a><br /><a>Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight</a><br /><a>Unto my cell.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR JOHN</b></a><blockquote><a>Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Now must I to the monument alone;</a><br /><a>Within three hours will fair Juliet wake:</a><br /><a>She will beshrew me much that Romeo</a><br /><a>Hath had no notice of these accidents;</a><br /><a>But I will write again to Mantua,</a><br /><a>And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;</a><br /><a>Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb!</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote></span><span id = 94 ><blockquote><i>Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch</i></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:</a><br /><a>Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.</a><br /><a>Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,</a><br /><a>Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;</a><br /><a>So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,</a><br /><a>Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,</a><br /><a>But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,</a><br /><a>As signal that thou hear'st something approach.</a><br /><a>Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PAGE</b></a><blockquote><a>[Aside]  I am almost afraid to stand alone</a><br /><a>Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.</a><br /><p><i>Retires</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--</a><br /><a>O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--</a><br /><a>Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,</a><br /><a>Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:</a><br /><a>The obsequies that I for thee will keep</a><br /><a>Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.</a><br /><p><i>The Page whistles</i></p><a>The boy gives warning something doth approach.</a><br /><a>What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,</a><br /><a>To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?</a><br /><a>What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.</a><br /><p><i>Retires</i></p><p><i>Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, mattock,  &amp; c</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.</a><br /><a>Hold, take this letter; early in the morning</a><br /><a>See thou deliver it to my lord and father.</a><br /><a>Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee,</a><br /><a>Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,</a><br /><a>And do not interrupt me in my course.</a><br /><a>Why I descend into this bed of death,</a><br /><a>Is partly to behold my lady's face;</a><br /><a>But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger</a><br /><a>A precious ring, a ring that I must use</a><br /><a>In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:</a><br /><a>But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry</a><br /><a>In what I further shall intend to do,</a><br /><a>By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint</a><br /><a>And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:</a><br /><a>The time and my intents are savage-wild,</a><br /><a>More fierce and more inexorable far</a><br /><a>Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:</a><br /><a>Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>[Aside]  For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:</a><br /><a>His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.</a><br /><p><i>Retires</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,</a><br /><a>Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,</a><br /><a>Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,</a><br /><a>And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!</a><br /><p><i>Opens the tomb</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>This is that banish'd haughty Montague,</a><br /><a>That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,</a><br /><a>It is supposed, the fair creature died;</a><br /><a>And here is come to do some villanous shame</a><br /><a>To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.</a><br /><p><i>Comes forward</i></p><a>Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!</a><br /><a>Can vengeance be pursued further than death?</a><br /><a>Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:</a><br /><a>Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.</a><br /><a>Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;</a><br /><a>Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;</a><br /><a>Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,</a><br /><a>Put not another sin upon my head,</a><br /><a>By urging me to fury: O, be gone!</a><br /><a>By heaven, I love thee better than myself;</a><br /><a>For I come hither arm'd against myself:</a><br /><a>Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,</a><br /><a>A madman's mercy bade thee run away.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>I do defy thy conjurations,</a><br /><a>And apprehend thee for a felon here.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!</a><br /><p><i>They fight</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PAGE</b></a><blockquote><a>O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.</a><br /><p><i>Exit</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PARIS</b></a><blockquote><a>O, I am slain!</a><br /><p><i>Falls</i></p><a>If thou be merciful,</a><br /><a>Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.</a><br /><p><i>Dies</i></p></blockquote><a><b>ROMEO</b></a><blockquote><a>In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.</a><br /><a>Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!</a><br /><a>What said my man, when my betossed soul</a><br /><a>Did not attend him as we rode? I think</a><br /><a>He told me Paris should have married Juliet:</a><br /><a>Said he not so? or did I dream it so?</a><br /><a>Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,</a><br /><a>To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,</a><br /><a>One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!</a><br /><a>I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;</a><br /><a>A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,</a><br /><a>For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes</a><br /><a>This vault a feasting presence full of light.</a><br /><a>Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.</a><br /><p><i>Laying PARIS in the tomb</i></p><a>How oft when men are at the point of death</a><br /><a>Have they been merry! which their keepers call</a><br /><a>A lightning before death: O, how may I</a><br /><a>Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!</a><br /><a>Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,</a><br /><a>Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:</a><br /><a>Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet</a><br /><a>Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,</a><br /><a>And death's pale flag is not advanced there.</a><br /><a>Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?</a><br /><a>O, what more favour can I do to thee,</a><br /><a>Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain</a><br /><a>To sunder his that was thine enemy?</a><br /><a>Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,</a><br /><a>Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe</a><br /><a>That unsubstantial death is amorous,</a><br /><a>And that the lean abhorred monster keeps</a><br /><a>Thee here in dark to be his paramour?</a><br /><a>For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;</a><br /><a>And never from this palace of dim night</a><br /><a>Depart again: here, here will I remain</a><br /><a>With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here</a><br /><a>Will I set up my everlasting rest,</a><br /><a>And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars</a><br /><a>From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!</a><br /><a>Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you</a><br /><a>The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss</a><br /><a>A dateless bargain to engrossing death!</a><br /><a>Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!</a><br /><a>Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on</a><br /><a>The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!</a><br /><a>Here's to my love!</a><br /><p><i>Drinks</i></p><a>O true apothecary!</a><br /><a>Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.</a><br /><p><i>Dies</i></p><p><i>Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night</a><br /><a>Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,</a><br /><a>What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light</a><br /><a>To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,</a><br /><a>It burneth in the Capel's monument.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,</a><br /><a>One that you love.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>                  Who is it?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>How long hath he been there?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>Full half an hour.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Go with me to the vault.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>I dare not, sir</a><br /><a>My master knows not but I am gone hence;</a><br /><a>And fearfully did menace me with death,</a><br /><a>If I did stay to look on his intents.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me:</a><br /><a>O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,</a><br /><a>I dreamt my master and another fought,</a><br /><a>And that my master slew him.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Romeo!</a><br /><p><i>Advances</i></p><a>Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains</a><br /><a>The stony entrance of this sepulchre?</a><br /><a>What mean these masterless and gory swords</a><br /><a>To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?</a><br /><p><i>Enters the tomb</i></p><a>Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?</a><br /><a>And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour</a><br /><a>Is guilty of this lamentable chance!</a><br /><a>The lady stirs.</a><br /><p><i>JULIET wakes</i></p></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>O comfortable friar! where is my lord?</a><br /><a>I do remember well where I should be,</a><br /><a>And there I am. Where is my Romeo?</a><br /><p><i>Noise within</i></p></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest</a><br /><a>Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:</a><br /><a>A greater power than we can contradict</a><br /><a>Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.</a><br /><a>Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;</a><br /><a>And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee</a><br /><a>Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:</a><br /><a>Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;</a><br /><a>Come, go, good Juliet,</a><br /><p><i>Noise again</i></p><a>I dare no longer stay.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.</a><br /><p><i>Exit FRIAR LAURENCE</i></p><a>What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?</a><br /><a>Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:</a><br /><a>O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop</a><br /><a>To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;</a><br /><a>Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,</a><br /><a>To make die with a restorative.</a><br /><p><i>Kisses him</i></p><a>Thy lips are warm.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>[Within]  Lead, boy: which way?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>JULIET</b></a><blockquote><a>Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!</a><br /><p><i>Snatching ROMEO's dagger</i></p><a>This is thy sheath;</a><br /><p><i>Stabs herself</i></p><a>there rust, and let me die.</a><br /><p><i>Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies</i></p><p><i>Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PAGE</b></a><blockquote><a>This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:</a><br /><a>Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.</a><br /><a>Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,</a><br /><a>And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,</a><br /><a>Who here hath lain these two days buried.</a><br /><a>Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets:</a><br /><a>Raise up the Montagues: some others search:</a><br /><a>We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;</a><br /><a>But the true ground of all these piteous woes</a><br /><a>We cannot without circumstance descry.</a><br /><p><i>Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Second Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.</a><br /><p><i>Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE</i></p></blockquote><a><b>Third Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps:</a><br /><a>We took this mattock and this spade from him,</a><br /><a>As he was coming from this churchyard side.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>A great suspicion: stay the friar too.</a><br /><p><i>Enter the PRINCE and Attendants</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>What misadventure is so early up,</a><br /><a>That calls our person from our morning's rest?</a><br /><p><i>Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others</i></p></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>The people in the street cry Romeo,</a><br /><a>Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run,</a><br /><a>With open outcry toward our monument.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>What fear is this which startles in our ears?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;</a><br /><a>And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,</a><br /><a>Warm and new kill'd.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>First Watchman</b></a><blockquote><a>Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man;</a><br /><a>With instruments upon them, fit to open</a><br /><a>These dead men's tombs.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!</a><br /><a>This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house</a><br /><a>Is empty on the back of Montague,--</a><br /><a>And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>LADY CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>O me! this sight of death is as a bell,</a><br /><a>That warns my old age to a sepulchre.</a><br /><p><i>Enter MONTAGUE and others</i></p></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Come, Montague; for thou art early up,</a><br /><a>To see thy son and heir more early down.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;</a><br /><a>Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:</a><br /><a>What further woe conspires against mine age?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Look, and thou shalt see.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>O thou untaught! what manners is in this?</a><br /><a>To press before thy father to a grave?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,</a><br /><a>Till we can clear these ambiguities,</a><br /><a>And know their spring, their head, their</a><br /><a>true descent;</a><br /><a>And then will I be general of your woes,</a><br /><a>And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,</a><br /><a>And let mischance be slave to patience.</a><br /><a>Bring forth the parties of suspicion.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>I am the greatest, able to do least,</a><br /><a>Yet most suspected, as the time and place</a><br /><a>Doth make against me of this direful murder;</a><br /><a>And here I stand, both to impeach and purge</a><br /><a>Myself condemned and myself excused.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Then say at once what thou dost know in this.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>FRIAR LAURENCE</b></a><blockquote><a>I will be brief, for my short date of breath</a><br /><a>Is not so long as is a tedious tale.</a><br /><a>Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;</a><br /><a>And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:</a><br /><a>I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day</a><br /><a>Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death</a><br /><a>Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,</a><br /><a>For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.</a><br /><a>You, to remove that siege of grief from her,</a><br /><a>Betroth'd and would have married her perforce</a><br /><a>To County Paris: then comes she to me,</a><br /><a>And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean</a><br /><a>To rid her from this second marriage,</a><br /><a>Or in my cell there would she kill herself.</a><br /><a>Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,</a><br /><a>A sleeping potion; which so took effect</a><br /><a>As I intended, for it wrought on her</a><br /><a>The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,</a><br /><a>That he should hither come as this dire night,</a><br /><a>To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,</a><br /><a>Being the time the potion's force should cease.</a><br /><a>But he which bore my letter, Friar John,</a><br /><a>Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight</a><br /><a>Return'd my letter back. Then all alone</a><br /><a>At the prefixed hour of her waking,</a><br /><a>Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;</a><br /><a>Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,</a><br /><a>Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:</a><br /><a>But when I came, some minute ere the time</a><br /><a>Of her awaking, here untimely lay</a><br /><a>The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.</a><br /><a>She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,</a><br /><a>And bear this work of heaven with patience:</a><br /><a>But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;</a><br /><a>And she, too desperate, would not go with me,</a><br /><a>But, as it seems, did violence on herself.</a><br /><a>All this I know; and to the marriage</a><br /><a>Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this</a><br /><a>Miscarried by my fault, let my old life</a><br /><a>Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,</a><br /><a>Unto the rigour of severest law.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>We still have known thee for a holy man.</a><br /><a>Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>BALTHASAR</b></a><blockquote><a>I brought my master news of Juliet's death;</a><br /><a>And then in post he came from Mantua</a><br /><a>To this same place, to this same monument.</a><br /><a>This letter he early bid me give his father,</a><br /><a>And threatened me with death, going in the vault,</a><br /><a>I departed not and left him there.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>Give me the letter; I will look on it.</a><br /><a>Where is the county's page, that raised the watch?</a><br /><a>Sirrah, what made your master in this place?</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PAGE</b></a><blockquote><a>He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;</a><br /><a>And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:</a><br /><a>Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;</a><br /><a>And by and by my master drew on him;</a><br /><a>And then I ran away to call the watch.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>This letter doth make good the friar's words,</a><br /><a>Their course of love, the tidings of her death:</a><br /><a>And here he writes that he did buy a poison</a><br /><a>Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal</a><br /><a>Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.</a><br /><a>Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!</a><br /><a>See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,</a><br /><a>That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.</a><br /><a>And I for winking at your discords too</a><br /><a>Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>O brother Montague, give me thy hand:</a><br /><a>This is my daughter's jointure, for no more</a><br /><a>Can I demand.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>MONTAGUE</b></a><blockquote><a>                  But I can give thee more:</a><br /><a>For I will raise her statue in pure gold;</a><br /><a>That while Verona by that name is known,</a><br /><a>There shall no figure at such rate be set</a><br /><a>As that of true and faithful Juliet.</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>CAPULET</b></a><blockquote><a>As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie;</a><br /><a>Poor sacrifices of our enmity!</a><br /></blockquote><a><b>PRINCE</b></a><blockquote><a>A glooming peace this morning with it brings;</a><br /><a>The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:</a><br /><a>Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;</a><br /><a>Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:</a><br /><a>For never was a story of more woe</a><br /><a>Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.</a><br /><p><i>Exeunt</i></p></blockquote></span>