« PreviousContinue »
Alla stoccata carries it away.
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Excunt TYBALT and his Partisans.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve : ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! 'Zounds! a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
Rom. I thought all for the best.
Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.
Ben. O Romeo, Romeo! brave Mercutio's dead; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins the woe others must end.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back
Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain !
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort
This shall determine that.
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of my dear kinsman. Prince, as thou art true,
Prince. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray!
Romeo, that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Lady Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague: Affection makes him false, he speaks not true: Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life.
ROMEO AND Juliet.
Ay, ay, the cords. Throws them down. Jul. Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
Nurse. Ah! well-a-day! he 's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give: Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prince. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
His fault concludes but what the law should end.
The life of Tybalt.
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
We are undone, lady, we are undone!
SCENE II.-The Same.
Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night! come, Romeo! come, thou day in night!
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd
Romeo can, 40
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
God save the mark! here on his manly breast:
To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt! the best friend I had:
Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary?
Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,
Enter Nurse, with cords.
And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
That Romeo bid thee fetch?
Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st; A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature! what hadst thou to do in hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O! that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace.
There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,
Shame come to Romeo!
Blister'd be thy tongue 90 Jul. Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For such a wish! he was not born to shame : For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah! poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it?
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
That banished,' that one word banished,'
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Where is my father and my mother, nurse? Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd:
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
SCENE III.-The Same. Friar LAURENCE's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE.
Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.
Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment. Rom. Ha! banishment! be merciful, say 'death':
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banish
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog »
Rom. O! thou wilt speak again of banishment, Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished. Rom. Yet 'banished'! Hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.
Fri. O then I see that madmen have no ears. Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick
Fri. Hark! how they knock.
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do
Stand up; Knocking. Run to my study. By and by! God's will! What simpleness is this! I come, I come!
know my errand :
I come from Lady Juliet.
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 130
Nurse. Within. Let me come in, and you shall Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
Nurse. O holy friar! O! tell me, holy friar,
Nurse. O! he is even in my mistress' case,
Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man:
In thee at once, which thou at once would'st lose.
Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend,
Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: 140
Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Nurse. O she says nothing, sir, but weeps
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all,
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Nurse. O Lord! I could have stay'd here all the night
In what vile part of this anatomy
To hear good counsel: O! what learning is. 160
Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to
Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir.
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
Exit. Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, and PARIS. Cap. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter: Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I well, we were born to die. 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo. Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
Lady Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness. Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love, And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday nextBut, soft! what day is this?
O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, 20
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were
Cap. Well, get you gone: o' Thursday be it then.
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
SCENE V.-The Same.
JULIET'S Chamber. Enter ROMEO and JULIET.
Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops: I must be gone and live, or stay and die. Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I: some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua : Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is 't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps, Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change
O! now I would they had chang'd voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt 's-up to the day. O! now be gone; more light and light it
Rom. More light and light; more dark and dark our woes.
Nurse. Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:
The day is broke; be wary, look about. Exit Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life
Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. Descends Jl. Art thou gone so my lord, my love, my friend!
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. Jul. O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adien! adieu!