Scene I. An open place adjoining
Capulet's Garden.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo.
Can I go forward when my heart
is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find
thy centre out.
[He climbs the wall and leaps
down within it.]
[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]
Benvolio.
Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
Mercutio.
He is wise;
And, on my life, hath stol'n
him home to bed.
Benvolio.
He ran this way, and leap'd this
orchard wall:
Call, good Mercutio.
Mercutio.
Nay, I'll conjure too.--
Romeo! humours! madman! passion!
lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of
a sigh:
Speak but one rhyme, and I am
satisfied;
Cry but 'Ah me!' pronounce but
Love and dove;
Speak to my gossip Venus one
fair word,
One nickname for her purblind
son and heir,
Young auburn Cupid, he that shot
so trim
When King Cophetua lov'd the
beggar-maid!--
He heareth not, he stirreth not,
he moveth not;
The ape is dead, and I must conjure
him.--
I conjure thee by Rosaline's
bright eyes,
By her high forehead and her
scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg,
and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent
lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear
to us!
Benvolio.
An if he hear thee, thou wilt
anger him.
Mercutio.
This cannot anger him: 'twould
anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress'
circle,
Of some strange nature, letting
it there stand
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd
it down;
That were some spite: my invocation
Is fair and honest, and, in his
mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up
him.
Benvolio.
Come, he hath hid himself among
these trees,
To be consorted with the humorous
night:
Blind is his love, and best befits
the dark.
Mercutio.
If love be blind, love cannot
hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar
tree,
And wish his mistress were that
kind of fruit
As maids call medlars when they
laugh alone.--
Romeo, good night.--I'll to my
truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too cold for
me to sleep:
Come, shall we go?
Benvolio.
Go then; for 'tis in vain
To seek him here that means not
to be found.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. Capulet's Garden.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo.
He jests at scars that never
felt a wound.--
[Juliet appears above at a window.]
But soft! what light through
yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is
the sun!--
Arise, fair sun, and kill the
envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale
with grief,
That thou her maid art far more
fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is
envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick
and green,
And none but fools do wear it;
cast it off.--
It is my lady; O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!--
She speaks, yet she says nothing:
what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer
it.--
I am too bold, 'tis not to me
she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all
the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat
her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till
they return.
What if her eyes were there,
they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would
shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her
eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region
stream so bright
That birds would sing and think
it were not night.--
See how she leans her cheek upon
her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that
hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Juliet.
Ah me!
Romeo.
She speaks:--
O, speak again, bright angel!
for thou art
As glorious to this night, being
o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering
eyes
Of mortals that fall back to
gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing
clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the
air.
Juliet.
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art
thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy
name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but
sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Romeo.
[Aside.] Shall I hear more, or
shall I speak at this?
Juliet.
'Tis but thy name that is my
enemy;--
Thou art thyself, though not
a Montague.
What's Montague? It is nor hand,
nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other
part
Belonging to a man. O, be some
other name!
What's in a name? that which
we call a rose
By any other name would smell
as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo
call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which
he owes
Without that title:--Romeo, doff
thy name;
And for that name, which is no
part of thee,
Take all myself.
Romeo.
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be
new baptiz'd;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Juliet.
What man art thou that, thus
bescreen'd in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
Romeo.
By a name
I know not how to tell thee who
I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful
to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee.
Had I it written, I would tear
the word.
Juliet.
My ears have yet not drunk a
hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance, yet
I know the sound;
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Romeo.
Neither, fair saint, if either
thee dislike.
Juliet.
How cam'st thou hither, tell
me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and
hard to climb;
And the place death, considering
who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee
here.
Romeo.
With love's light wings did I
o'erperch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold
love out:
And what love can do, that dares
love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no
let to me.
Juliet.
If they do see thee, they will
murder thee.
Romeo.
Alack, there lies more peril
in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords:
look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their
enmity.
Juliet.
I would not for the world they
saw thee here.
Romeo.
I have night's cloak to hide
me from their sight;
And, but thou love me, let them
find me here.
My life were better ended by
their hate
Than death prorogued, wanting
of thy love.
Juliet.
By whose direction found'st thou
out this place?
Romeo.
By love, that first did prompt
me to enquire;
He lent me counsel, and I lent
him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou
as far
As that vast shore wash'd with
the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Juliet.
Thou knowest the mask of night
is on my face;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint
my cheek
For that which thou hast heard
me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form,fain,
fain deny
What I have spoke; but farewell
compliment!
Dost thou love me, I know thou
wilt say Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet,
if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers'
perjuries,
They say Jove laughs. O gentle
Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce
it faithfully:
Or if thou thinkest I am too
quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse,
and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo: but else, not
for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am
too fond;
And therefore thou mayst think
my 'haviour light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll
prove more true
Than those that have more cunning
to be strange.
I should have been more strange,
I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere
I was 'ware,
My true-love passion: therefore
pardon me;
And not impute this yielding
to light love,
Which the dark night hath so
discovered.
Romeo.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon
I swear,
That tips with silver all these
fruit-tree tops,--
Juliet.
O, swear not by the moon, the
inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled
orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise
variable.
Romeo.
What shall I swear by?
Juliet.
Do not swear at all;
Or if thou wilt, swear by thy
gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
Romeo.
If my heart's dear love,--
Juliet.
Well, do not swear: although
I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract
to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvis'd,
too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which
doth cease to be
Ere one can say It lightens.
Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's
ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower
when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet
repose and rest
Come to thy heart as that within
my breast!
Romeo.
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Juliet.
What satisfaction canst thou
have to-night?
Romeo.
The exchange of thy love's faithful
vow for mine.
Juliet.
I gave thee mine before thou
didst request it;
And yet I would it were to give
again.
Romeo.
Would'st thou withdraw it? for
what purpose, love?
Juliet.
But to be frank and give it thee
again.
And yet I wish but for the thing
I have;
My bounty is as boundless as
the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give
to thee,
The more I have, for both are
infinite.
I hear some noise within: dear
love, adieu!--
[Nurse calls within.]
Anon, good nurse!--Sweet Montague,
be true.
Stay but a little, I will come
again.
[Exit.]
Romeo.
O blessed, blessed night! I am
afeard,
Being in night, all this is but
a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
[Enter Juliet above.]
Juliet.
Three words, dear Romeo, and
good night indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me
word to-morrow,
By one that I'll procure to come
to thee,
Where and what time thou wilt
perform the rite;
And all my fortunes at thy foot
I'll lay
And follow thee, my lord, throughout
the world.
Nurse.
[Within.] Madam!
Juliet.
I come anon.-- But if thou meanest
not well,
I do beseech thee,--
Nurse.
[Within.] Madam!
Juliet.
By-and-by I come:--
To cease thy suit and leave me
to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.
Romeo.
So thrive my soul,--
Juliet.
A thousand times good night!
[Exit.]
Romeo.
A thousand times the worse, to
want thy light!--
Love goes toward love as schoolboys
from their books;
But love from love, towards school
with heavy looks.
[Retirong slowly.]
[Re-enter Juliet, above.]
Juliet.
Hist! Romeo, hist!--O for a falconer's
voice
To lure this tassel-gentle back
again!
Bondage is hoarse and may not
speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where
Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more
hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's
name.
Romeo.
It is my soul that calls upon
my name:
How silver-sweet sound lovers'
tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending
ears!
Juliet.
Romeo!
Romeo.
My dear?
Juliet.
At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?
Romeo.
At the hour of nine.
Juliet.
I will not fail: 'tis twenty
years till then.
I have forgot why I did call
thee back.
Romeo.
Let me stand here till thou remember
it.
Juliet.
I shall forget, to have thee
still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.
Romeo.
And I'll still stay, to have
thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but
this.
Juliet.
'Tis almost morning; I would
have thee gone:
And yet no farther than a wanton's
bird;
That lets it hop a little from
her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted
gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks
it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Romeo.
I would I were thy bird.
Juliet.
Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much
cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting
is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say good night till
it be morrow.
[Exit.]
Romeo.
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes,
peace in thy breast!--
Would I were sleep and peace,
so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's
cell,
His help to crave and my dear
hap to tell.
[Exit.]
Scene III. Friar Lawrence's
Cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence with a
basket.]
Friar.
The grey-ey'd morn smiles on
the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds
with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard
reels
From forth day's path and Titan's
fiery wheels:
Non, ere the sun advance his
burning eye,
The day to cheer and night's
dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage
of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced
flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother,
is her tomb;
What is her burying gave, that
is her womb:
And from her womb children of
divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom
find;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all
different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace
that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and
their true qualities:
For naught so vile that on the
earth doth live
But to the earth some special
good doth give;
Nor aught so good but, strain'd
from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling
on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being
misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action
dignified.
Within the infant rind of this
small flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine
power:
For this, being smelt, with that
part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses
with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp
them still
In man as well as herbs,--grace
and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats
up that plant.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo.
Good morrow, father!
Friar.
Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth
me?--
Young son, it argues a distemper'd
head
So soon to bid good morrow to
thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every
old man's eye,
And where care lodges sleep will
never lie;
But where unbruised youth with
unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden
sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth
me assure
Thou art uprous'd with some distemperature;
Or if not so, then here I hit
it right,--
Our Romeo hath not been in bed
to-night.
Romeo.
That last is true; the sweeter
rest was mine.
Friar.
God pardon sin! wast thou with
Rosaline?
Romeo.
With Rosaline, my ghostly father?
no;
I have forgot that name, and
that name's woe.
Friar.
That's my good son: but where
hast thou been then?
Romeo.
I'll tell thee ere thou ask it
me again.
I have been feasting with mine
enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath
wounded me
That's by me wounded. Both our
remedies
Within thy help and holy physic
lies;
I bear no hatred, blessed man;
for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads
my foe.
Friar.
Be plain, good son, and homely
in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but
riddling shrift.
Romeo.
Then plainly know my heart's
dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich
Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set
on mine;
And all combin'd, save what thou
must combine
By holy marriage: when, and where,
and how
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange
of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but
this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us
to-day.
Friar.
Holy Saint Francis! what a change
is here!
Is Rosaline, that thou didst
love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men's
love, then, lies
Not truly in their hearts, but
in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks
for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away
in waste,
To season love, that of it doth
not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from
heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in mine
ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain
doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd
off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and
these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all
for Rosaline;
And art thou chang'd? Pronounce
this sentence then,--
Women may fall, when there's
no strength in men.
Romeo.
Thou chidd'st me oft for loving
Rosaline.
Friar.
For doting, not for loving, pupil
mine.
Romeo.
And bad'st me bury love.
Friar.
Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to
have.
Romeo.
I pray thee chide not: she whom
I love now
Doth grace for grace and love
for love allow;
The other did not so.
Friar.
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote, that
could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come
go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant
be;
For this alliance may so happy
prove,
To turn your households' rancour
to pure love.
Romeo.
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden
haste.
Friar.
Wisely, and slow; they stumble
that run fast.
[Exeunt.]
Scene IV. A Street.
[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]
Mercutio.
Where the devil should this Romeo
be?--
Came he not home to-night?
Benvolio.
Not to his father's; I spoke
with his man.
Mercutio.
Ah, that same pale hard-hearted
wench, that Rosaline,
Torments him so that he will
sure run mad.
Benvolio.
Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's
house.
Mercutio.
A challenge, on my life.
Benvolio.
Romeo will answer it.
Mercutio.
Any man that can write may answer
a letter.
Benvolio.
Nay, he will answer the letter's
master, how he
dares, being dared.
Mercutio.
Alas, poor Romeo, he is already
dead! stabbed with a white
wench's black eye; shot through
the ear with a love song; the
very pin of his heart cleft with
the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft:
and is he a man to encounter
Tybalt?
Benvolio.
Why, what is Tybalt?
Mercutio.
More than prince of cats, I can
tell you. O, he's the
courageous captain of compliments.
He fights as you sing
prick-song--keeps time, distance,
and proportion; rests me his
minim rest, one, two, and the
third in your bosom: the very
butcher of a silk button, a duellist,
a duellist; a gentleman of
the very first house,--of the
first and second cause: ah, the
immortal passado! the punto reverso!
the hay.--
Benvolio.
The what?
Mercutio.
The pox of such antic, lisping,
affecting fantasticoes; these
new tuners of accents!--'By Jesu,
a very good blade!--a very tall
man!--a very good whore!'--Why,
is not this a lamentable thing,
grandsire, that we should be
thus afflicted with these strange
flies, these fashion-mongers,
these pardonnez-moi's, who stand
so
much on the new form that they
cannot sit at ease on the old
bench? O, their bons, their bons!
Benvolio.
Here comes Romeo, here comes
Romeo!
Mercutio.
Without his roe, like a dried
herring.--O flesh, flesh, how
art
thou fishified!--Now is he for
the numbers that Petrarch flowed
in: Laura, to his lady, was but
a kitchen wench,--marry, she
had
a better love to be-rhyme her;
Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gypsy;
Helen and Hero, hildings and
harlots; Thisbe, a gray eye or
so,
but not to the purpose,--
[Enter Romeo.]
Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's
a French salutation to your
French slop. You gave us the
counterfeit fairly last night.
Romeo.
Good morrow to you both. What
counterfeit did I give you?
Mercutio.
The slip, sir, the slip; can
you not conceive?
Romeo.
Pardon, good Mercutio, my business
was great; and in such a
case as mine a man may strain
courtesy.
Mercutio.
That's as much as to say, such
a case as yours constrains
a
man to bow in the hams.
Romeo.
Meaning, to court'sy.
Mercutio.
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Romeo.
A most courteous exposition.
Mercutio.
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Romeo.
Pink for flower.
Mercutio.
Right.
Romeo.
Why, then is my pump well-flowered.
Mercutio.
Well said: follow me this jest
now till thou hast worn out
thy pump;that, when the single
sole of it is worn, the jest
may
remain, after the wearing, sole
singular.
Romeo.
O single-soled jest, solely singular
for the singleness!
Mercutio.
Come between us, good Benvolio;
my wits faint.
Romeo.
Swits and spurs, swits and spurs;
or I'll cry a match.
Mercutio.
Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose
chase, I have done; for
thou hast more of the wild-goose
in one of thy wits than, I am
sure, I have in my whole five:
was I with you there for the
goose?
Romeo.
Thou wast never with me for anything
when thou wast not
there for the goose.
Mercutio.
I will bite thee by the ear for
that jest.
Romeo.
Nay, good goose, bite not.
Mercutio.
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting;
it is a most sharp
sauce.
Romeo.
And is it not, then, well served
in to a sweet goose?
Mercutio.
O, here's a wit of cheveril,
that stretches from an inch
narrow to an ell broad!
Romeo.
I stretch it out for that word
broad: which added to the
goose, proves thee far and wide
a broad goose.
Mercutio.
Why, is not this better now than
groaning for love? now art
thou sociable, now art thou Romeo;
not art thou what thou art, by
art as well as by nature: for
this drivelling love is like
a
great natural, that runs lolling
up and down to hide his bauble
in a hole.
Benvolio.
Stop there, stop there.
Mercutio.
Thou desirest me to stop in my
tale against the hair.
Benvolio.
Thou wouldst else have made thy
tale large.
Mercutio.
O, thou art deceived; I would
have made it short: for I was
come to the whole depth of my
tale; and meant indeed to occupy
the argument no longer.
Romeo.
Here's goodly gear!
[Enter Nurse and Peter.]
Mercutio.
A sail, a sail, a sail!
Benvolio.
Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
Nurse.
Peter!
Peter.
Anon.
Nurse.
My fan, Peter.
Mercutio.
Good Peter, to hide her face;
for her fan's the fairer face.
Nurse.
God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mercutio.
God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse.
Is it good-den?
Mercutio.
'Tis no less, I tell ye; for
the bawdy hand of the dial
is
now upon the prick of noon.
Nurse.
Out upon you! what a man are
you!
Romeo.
One, gentlewoman, that God hath
made for himself to mar.
Nurse.
By my troth, it is well said;--for
himself to mar, quoth
'a?--Gentlemen, can any of you
tell me where I may find the
young
Romeo?
Romeo.
I can tell you: but young Romeo
will be older when you have
found him than he was when you
sought him: I am the youngest
of
that name, for fault of a worse.
Nurse.
You say well.
Mercutio.
Yea, is the worst well? very
well took, i' faith; wisely,
wisely.
Nurse.
If you be he, sir, I desire some
confidence with you.
Benvolio.
She will indite him to some supper.
Mercutio.
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
Romeo.
What hast thou found?
Mercutio.
No hare, sir; unless a hare,
sir, in a lenten pie, that
is
something stale and hoar ere
it be spent.
[Sings.]
An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in Lent;
But a hare that is hoar
Is too much for a score
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your
father's? we'll to dinner thither.
Romeo.
I will follow you.
Mercutio.
Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,--
[singing] lady, lady, lady.
[Exeunt Mercutio, and Benvolio.]
Nurse.
Marry, farewell!--I pray you,
sir, what saucy merchant was
this that was so full of his
ropery?
Romeo.
A gentleman, nurse, that loves
to hear himself talk; and
will speak more in a minute than
he will stand to in a month.
Nurse.
An 'a speak anything against
me, I'll take him down, an'a
were lustier than he is, and
twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot,
I'll find those that shall. Scurvy
knave! I am none of his
flirt-gills; I am none of his
skains-mates.--And thou must
stand
by too, and suffer every knave
to use me at his pleasure!
Peter. I saw no man use you
at his pleasure; if I had, my
weapon
should quickly have been out,
I warrant you: I dare draw as
soon
as another man, if I see occasion
in a good quarrel, and the law
on my side.
Nurse.
Now, afore God, I am so vexed
that every part about me
quivers. Scurvy knave!--Pray
you, sir, a word: and, as I told
you, my young lady bid me enquire
you out; what she bade me say
I
will keep to myself: but first
let me tell ye, if ye should
lead
her into a fool's paradise, as
they say, it were a very gross
kind of behaviour, as they say:
for the gentlewoman is young;
and, therefore, if you should
deal double with her, truly it
were
an ill thing to be offered to
any gentlewoman, and very weak
dealing.
Romeo.
Nurse, commend me to thy lady
and mistress. I protest unto
thee,--
Nurse.
Good heart, and i' faith I will
tell her as much: Lord,
Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
Romeo.
What wilt thou tell her, nurse?
thou dost not mark me.
Nurse.
I will tell her, sir,--that you
do protest: which, as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Romeo.
Bid her devise some means to
come to shrift
This afternoon;
And there she shall at Friar
Lawrence' cell
Be shriv'd and married. Here
is for thy pains.
Nurse.
No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Romeo.
Go to; I say you shall.
Nurse.
This afternoon, sir? well, she
shall be there.
Romeo.
And stay, good nurse, behind
the abbey-wall:
Within this hour my man shall
be with thee,
And bring thee cords made like
a tackled stair;
Which to the high top-gallant
of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret
night.
Farewell; be trusty, and I'll
quit thy pains:
Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.
Nurse.
Now God in heaven bless thee!--Hark
you, sir.
Romeo.
What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Nurse.
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er
hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting
one away?
Romeo.
I warrant thee, my man's as true
as steel.
Nurse.
Well, sir; my mistress is the
sweetest lady.--Lord, Lord!
when 'twas a little prating thing,--O,
there's a nobleman in
town, one Paris, that would fain
lay knife aboard; but she, good
soul, had as lief see a toad,
a very toad, as see him. I anger
her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris is the properer man; but
I'll warrant you, when I say
so, she looks as pale as any
clout
in the versal world. Doth not
rosemary and Romeo begin both
with
a letter?
Romeo.
Ay, nurse; what of that? both
with an R.
Nurse.
Ah, mocker! that's the dog's
name. R is for the dog: no;
I
know it begins with some other
letter:--and she hath the
prettiest sententious of it,
of you and rosemary, that it
would
do you good to hear it.
Romeo.
Commend me to thy lady.
Nurse.
Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo.]--Peter!
Peter.
Anon?
Nurse.
Peter, take my fan, and go before.
[Exeunt.]
Scene V. Capulet's Garden.
[Enter Juliet.]
Juliet.
The clock struck nine when I
did send the nurse;
In half an hour she promis'd
to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him:
that's not so.--
O, she is lame! love's heralds
should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide
than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over lowering
hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd
doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift
Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost
hill
Of this day's journey; and from
nine till twelve
Is three long hours,--yet she
is not come.
Had she affections and warm youthful
blood,
She'd be as swift in motion as
a ball;
My words would bandy her to my
sweet love,
And his to me:
But old folks, many feign as
they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale
as lead.--
O God, she comes!
[Enter Nurse and Peter].
O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send
thy man away.
Nurse.
Peter, stay at the gate.
[Exit Peter.]
Juliet.
Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord,
why look'st thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell
them merrily;
If good, thou sham'st the music
of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour
a face.
Nurse.
I am aweary, give me leave awhile;--
Fie, how my bones ache! what
a jaunt have I had!
Juliet.
I would thou hadst my bones,
and I thy news:
Nay, come, I pray thee speak;--good,
good nurse, speak.
Nurse.
Jesu, what haste? can you not
stay awhile?
Do you not see that I am out
of breath?
Juliet.
How art thou out of breath, when
thou hast breath
To say to me that thou art out
of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make
in this delay
Is longer than the tale thou
dost excuse.
Is thy news good or bad? answer
to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the
circumstance:
Let me be satisfied, is't good
or bad?
Nurse.
Well, you have made a simple
choice; you know not how to
choose a man: Romeo! no, not
he; rhough his face be better
than
any man's, yet his leg excels
all men's; and for a hand and
a
foot, and a body,--though they
be not to be talked on, yet they
are past compare: he is not the
flower of courtesy,--but I'll
warrant him as gentle as a lamb.--Go
thy ways, wench; serve God.-
-What, have you dined at home?
Juliet.
No, no: but all this did I know
before.
What says he of our marriage?
what of that?
Nurse.
Lord, how my head aches! what
a head have I!
It beats as it would fall in
twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other side,--O,
my back, my back!--
Beshrew your heart for sending
me about
To catch my death with jauncing
up and down!
Juliet.
I' faith, I am sorry that thou
art not well.
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell
me, what says my love?
Nurse.
Your love says, like an honest
gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind,
and a handsome;
And, I warrant, a virtuous,--Where
is your mother?
Juliet.
Where is my mother?--why, she
is within;
Where should she be? How oddly
thou repliest!
'Your love says, like an honest
gentleman,--
'Where is your mother?'
Nurse.
O God's lady dear!
Are you so hot? marry,come up,
I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aching
bones?
Henceforward,do your messages
yourself.
Juliet.
Here's such a coil!--come, what
says Romeo?
Nurse.
Have you got leave to go to shrift
to-day?
Juliet.
I have.
Nurse.
Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence'
cell;
There stays a husband to make
you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up
in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight
at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another
way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which
your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon
when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in
your delight;
But you shall bear the burden
soon at night.
Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to
the cell.
Juliet.
Hie to high fortune!--honest
nurse, farewell.
[Exeunt.]
Scene VI. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.]
Friar.
So smile the heavens upon this
holy act
That after-hours with sorrow
chide us not!
Romeo.
Amen, amen! but come what sorrow
can,
It cannot countervail the exchange
of joy
That one short minute gives me
in her sight:
Do thou but close our hands with
holy words,
Then love-devouring death do
what he dare,--
It is enough I may but call her
mine.
Friar.
These violent delights have violent
ends,
And in their triumph die; like
fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume:
the sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the
appetite:
Therefore love moderately: long
love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as
too slow.
Here comes the lady:--O, so light
a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting
flint:
A lover may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton summer
air
And yet not fall; so light is
vanity.
[Enter Juliet.]
Juliet.
Good-even to my ghostly confessor.
Friar.
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter,
for us both.
Juliet.
As much to him, else is his thanks
too much.
Romeo.
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of
thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that
thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with
thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich
music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness
that both
Receive in either by this dear
encounter.
Juliet.
Conceit, more rich in matter
than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of
ornament:
They are but beggars that can
count their worth;
But my true love is grown to
such excess,
I cannot sum up sum of half my
wealth.
Friar.
Come, come with me, and we will
make short work;
For, by your leaves, you shall
not stay alone
Till holy church incorporate
two in one.
[Exeunt.]
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