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2K3K T-E T&0GE%1 '! &'(E' 0)% 89LIET by Willia "ha#espeare
%ra atis Personae $horus. Escalus, Prince of .erona. Paris, a young $ount, #ins an to the Prince. (ontague, heads of two houses at ?ariance with each other. $apulet, heads of two houses at ?ariance with each other. 0n old (an, of the $apulet fa ily. &o eo, son to (ontague. Tybalt, nephew to Lady $apulet. (ercutio, #ins an to the Prince and friend to &o eo. 7en?olio, nephew to (ontague, and friend to &o eo Tybalt, nephew to Lady $apulet. !riar Laurence, !ranciscan. !riar 8ohn, !ranciscan. 7althasar, ser?ant to &o eo. 0bra , ser?ant to (ontague. "a pson, ser?ant to $apulet. Gregory, ser?ant to $apulet. Peter, ser?ant to 8ulietNs nurse. 0n 0pothecary. Three (usicians. 0n 'fficer. Lady (ontague, wife to (ontague. Lady $apulet, wife to $apulet. 8uliet, daughter to $apulet. )urse to 8uliet. $itiDens of .eronaO Gentle en and Gentlewo en of both housesO (as#ers, Torchbearers, Pages, Guards, Watch en, "er?ants, and 0ttendants. "$E)E.55.eronaO (antua.
Enter $horus. $hor. Two households, both ali#e in dignity, In fair .erona, where we lay our scene, !ro ancient grudge brea# to new utiny, Where ci?il blood a#es ci?il hands unclean. !ro forth the fatal loins of these two foes 0 pair of star5crossNd lo?ers ta#e their lifeO Whose isad?enturNd piteous o?erthrows %oth with their death bury their parentsN strife. The fearful passage of their death5 ar#Nd lo?e, 0nd the continuance of their parentsN rage, Which, but their childrenNs end, naught could re o?e, Is now the two hoursN traffic of our stageO The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall iss, our toil shall stri?e to end. @Exit.B
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0$T I. "cene I. .erona. 0 public place. Enter "a pson and Gregory :with swords and buc#lers; of the house of $apulet. "a p. Gregory, on y word, weNll not carry coals. Greg. )o, for then we should be colliers. "a p. I ean, an we be in choler, weNll draw. Greg. 0y, while you li?e, draw your nec# out of collar. "a p. I stri#e Ruic#ly, being o?ed. Greg. 7ut thou art not Ruic#ly o?ed to stri#e. "a p. 0 dog of the house of (ontague o?es e. Greg. To o?e is to stir, and to be ?aliant is to stand. Therefore, if thou art o?ed, thou runnNst away. "a p. 0 dog of that house shall o?e e to stand. I will ta#e the wall of any an or aid of (ontagueNs. Greg. That shows thee a wea# sla?eO for the wea#est goes to the wall. "a p. NTis trueO and therefore wo en, being the wea#er ?essels, are e?er thrust to the wall. Therefore I will push (ontagueNs en fro the wall and thrust his aids to the wall. Greg. The Ruarrel is between our asters and us their en. "a p. NTis all one. I will show yself a tyrant. When I ha?e fought with the en, I will be cruel with the aids5 I will cut off their heads. Greg. The heads of the aidsU "a p. 0y, the heads of the aids, or their aidenheads. Ta#e it in what sense thou wilt. Greg. They ust ta#e it in sense that feel it. "a p. (e they shall feel while I a able to standO and Ntis
#nown I a a pretty piece of flesh. Greg. NTis well thou art not fishO if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor58ohn. %raw thy tool* -ere co es two of the house of (ontagues. Enter two other "er?ing en @0bra and 7althasarB.
"a p. (y na#ed weapon is out. Suarrel* I will bac# thee. Greg. -owU turn thy bac# and runU "a p. !ear e not. Greg. )o, arry. I fear thee* "a p. Let us ta#e the law of our sidesO let the begin. Greg. I will frown as I pass by, and let the ta#e it as they list. "a p. )ay, as they dare. I will bite y thu b at the O which is disgrace to the , if they bear it. 0br. %o you bite your thu b at us, sirU "a p. I do bite y thu b, sir. 0br. %o you bite your thu b at us, sirU "a p. @aside to GregoryB Is the law of our side if I say ayU Greg. @aside to "a psonB )o. "a p. )o, sir, I do not bite y thu b at you, sirO but I bite y thu b, sir. Greg. %o you Ruarrel, sirU 0br. Suarrel, sirU )o, sir. "a p. 7ut if you do, sir, a for you. I ser?e as good a an as you. 0br. )o better. "a p. Well, sir. Enter 7en?olio. Greg. @aside to "a psonB "ay Nbetter.N -ere co es one of y asterNs #ins en. "a p. 1es, better, sir. 0br. 1ou lie. "a p. %raw, if you be en. Gregory, re e ber thy swashing blow. They fight. 7en. Part, fools* @7eats down their swords.B Put up your swords. 1ou #now not what you do. Enter Tybalt. Tyb. What, art thou drawn a ong these heartless hindsU Turn thee 7en?olio* loo# upon thy death. 7en. I do but #eep the peace. Put up thy sword, 'r anage it to part these en with e. Tyb. What, drawn, and tal# of peaceU I hate the word 0s I hate hell, all (ontagues, and thee. -a?e at thee, coward* They fight. Enter an officer, and three or four $itiDens with clubs or partisans. 'fficer. $lubs, bills, and partisans* "tri#e* beat the down* $itiDens. %own with the $apulets* %own with the (ontagues* Enter 'ld $apulet in his gown, and his Wife. $ap. What noise is thisU Gi?e e y long sword, ho* Wife. 0 crutch, a crutch* Why call you for a swordU $ap. (y sword, I say* 'ld (ontague is co e 0nd flourishes his blade in spite of e.
Enter 'ld (ontague and his Wife. (on. Thou ?illain $apulet*5 -old e not, let e go. (. Wife. Thou shalt not stir one foot to see# a foe. Enter Prince Escalus, with his Train. Prince. &ebellious subjects, ene ies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour5stained steel5 Will they not hearU What, ho* you en, you beasts, That Ruench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing fro your ?eins* 'n pain of torture, fro those bloody hands Throw your iste pered weapons to the ground 0nd hear the sentence of your o?ed prince. Three ci?il brawls, bred of an airy word 7y thee, old $apulet, and (ontague, -a?e thrice disturbNd the Ruiet of our streets 0nd ade .eronaNs ancient citiDens $ast by their gra?e besee ing orna ents To wield old partisans, in hands as old, $an#Nred with peace, to part your can#Nred hate. If e?er you disturb our streets again, 1our li?es shall pay the forfeit of the peace. !or this ti e all the rest depart away. 1ou, $apulet, shall go along with eO 0nd, (ontague, co e you this afternoon, To #now our farther pleasure in this case, To old !reetown, our co on judg ent place. 'nce ore, on pain of death, all en depart. Exeunt @all but (ontague, his Wife, and 7en?olioB. (on. Who set this ancient Ruarrel new abroachU "pea#, nephew, were you by when it beganU 7en. -ere were the ser?ants of your ad?ersary 0nd yours, close fighting ere I did approach. I drew to part the . In the instant ca e The fiery Tybalt, with his sword preparNdO Which, as he breathNd defiance to y ears, -e swung about his head and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hissNd hi in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, $a e ore and ore, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince ca e, who parted either part. (. Wife. ', where is &o eoU "aw you hi to5dayU &ight glad I a he was not at this fray. 7en. (ada , an hour before the worshippNd sun PeerNd forth the golden window of the East, 0 troubled ind dra?e e to wal# abroadO Where, underneath the gro?e of syca ore That westward rooteth fro the cityNs side, "o early wal#ing did I see your son. Towards hi I adeO but he was ware of e 0nd stole into the co?ert of the wood. I5 easuring his affections by y own, Which then ost sought where ost ight not be found, 7eing one too any by y weary self5 PursuNd y hu our, not Pursuing his, 0nd gladly shunnNd who gladly fled fro e. (on. (any a orning hath he there been seen, With tears aug enting the fresh orningNs dew, 0dding to clouds ore clouds with his deep sighsO 7ut all so soon as the all5cheering sun "hould in the farthest East bean to draw The shady curtains fro 0uroraNs bed, 0way fro light steals ho e y hea?y son
0nd pri?ate in his cha ber pens hi self, "huts up his windows, loc#s fair daylight 0nd a#es hi self an artificial night. 7lac# and portentous ust this hu our pro?e 9nless good counsel ay the cause re o?e. 7en. (y noble uncle, do you #now the causeU (on. I neither #now it nor can learn of hi 7en. -a?e you i portunNd hi by any eansU (on. 7oth by yself and any other friendO 7ut he, his own affectionsN counsellor, Is to hi self5 I will not say how true5 7ut to hi self so secret and so close, "o far fro sounding and disco?ery, 0s is the bud bit with an en?ious wor Ere he can spread his sweet lea?es to the air 'r dedicate his beauty to the sun. $ould we but learn fro whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly gi?e cure as #now. Enter &o eo. 7en. "ee, where he co es. "o please you step aside, INll #now his grie?ance, or be uch denied. (on. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift. $o e, ada , letNs away, Exeunt @(ontague and WifeB. 7en. Good orrow, cousin. &o . Is the day so youngU 7en. 7ut new struc# nine. &o . 0y e* sad hours see long. Was that y father that went hence so fastU 7en. It was. What sadness lengthens &o eoNs hoursU &o . )ot ha?ing that which ha?ing a#es the short. 7en. In lo?eU &o . 'ut5 7en. 'f lo?eU &o . 'ut of her fa?our where I a in lo?e. 7en. 0las that lo?e, so gentle in his ?iew, "hould be so tyrannous and rough in proof* &o . 0las that lo?e, whose ?iew is uffled still, "hould without eyes see pathways to his will* Where shall we dineU ' e* What fray was hereU 1et tell e not, for I ha?e heard it all. -ereNs uch to do with hate, but ore with lo?e. Why then, ' brawling lo?e* ' lo?ing hate* ' anything, of nothing first create* ' hea?y lightness* serious ?anity* (isshapen chaos of well5see ing for s* !eather of lead, bright s o#e, cold fire, sic# health* "till5wa#ing sleep, that is not what it is This lo?e feel I, that feel no lo?e in this. %ost thou not laughU 7en. )o, coD, I rather weep. &o . Good heart, at whatU 7en. 0t thy good heartNs oppression. &o . Why, such is lo?eNs transgression. Griefs of ine own lie hea?y in y breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to ha?e it prest With ore of thine. This lo?e that thou hast shown %oth add ore grief to too uch of ine own. Lo?e is a s o#e raisNd with the fu e of sighsO 7eing purgNd, a fire spar#ling in lo?ersN eyesO 7eing ?exNd, a sea nourishNd with lo?ersN tears. What is it elseU 0 adness ost discreet, 0 cho#ing gall, and a preser?ing sweet. !arewell, y coD.
7en. "oft* I will go along. 0n if you lea?e e so, you do e wrong. &o . Tut* I ha?e lost yselfO I a not hereE This is not &o eo, heNs so e other where. 7en. Tell e in sadness, who is that you lo?eU &o . What, shall I groan and tell theeU 7en. GroanU Why, noO 7ut sadly tell e who. &o . 7id a sic# an in sadness a#e his will. 0h, word ill urgNd to one that is so ill* In sadness, cousin, I do lo?e a wo an. 7en. I ai Nd so near when I supposNd you lo?Nd. &o . 0 right good ar# an* 0nd sheNs fair I lo?e. 7en. 0 right fair ar#, fair coD, is soonest hit. &o . Well, in that hit you iss. "heNll not be hit With $upidNs arrow. "he hath %ianNs wit, 0nd, in strong proof of chastity well ar Nd, !ro Lo?eNs wea# childish bow she li?es unhar Nd. "he will not stay the siege of lo?ing ter s, )or bide thN encounter of assailing eyes, )or ope her lap to saint5seducing gold. ', sheNs rich in beautyO only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 7en. Then she hath sworn that she will still li?e chasteU &o . "he hath, and in that sparing a#es huge wasteO !or beauty, star?Nd with her se?erity, $uts beauty off fro all posterity. "he is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To erit bliss by a#ing e despair. "he hath forsworn to lo?e, and in that ?ow %o I li?e dead that li?e to tell it now. 7en. 7e rulNd by eE forget to thin# of her. &o . ', teach e how I should forget to thin#* 7en. 7y gi?ing liberty unto thine eyes. Exa ine other beauties. &o . NTis the way To call hers :exRuisite; in Ruestion ore. These happy as#s that #iss fair ladiesN brows, 7eing blac# puts us in ind they hide the fair. -e that is struc#en blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. "how e a istress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty ser?e but as a note Where I ay read who passNd that passing fairU !arewell. Thou canst not teach e to forget. 7en. INll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt.
"cene II. 0 "treet. Enter $apulet, $ounty Paris, and @"er?antB 5the $lown. $ap. 7ut (ontague is bound as well as I, In penalty ali#eO and Ntis not hard, I thin#, !or en so old as we to #eep the peace. Par. 'f honourable rec#oning are you both, 0nd pity Ntis you li?Nd at odds so long. 7ut now, y lord, what say you to y suitU $ap. 7ut saying oNer what I ha?e said beforeE (y child is yet a stranger in the world, "he hath not seen the change of fourteen yearsO Let two ore su ers wither in their pride Ere we ay thin# her ripe to be a bride.
Par. 1ounger than she are happy others ade. $ap. 0nd too soon arrNd are those so early ade. The earth hath swallowed all y hopes but sheO "he is the hopeful lady of y earth. 7ut woo her, gentle Paris, get her heartO (y will to her consent is but a part. 0n she agree, within her scope of choice Lies y consent and fair according ?oice. This night I hold an old accusto Nd feast, Whereto I ha?e in?ited any a guest, "uch as I lo?eO and you a ong the store, 'ne ore, ost welco e, a#es y nu ber ore. 0t y poor house loo# to behold this night Earth5treading stars that a#e dar# hea?en light. "uch co fort as do lusty young en feel When well apparellNd 0pril on the heel 'f li ping Winter treads, e?en such delight 0 ong fresh fe ale buds shall you this night Inherit at y house. -ear all, all see, 0nd li#e her ost whose erit ost shall beO Which, on ore ?iew of any, ine, being one, (ay stand in nu ber, though in rec#Nning none. $o e, go with e. @To "er?ant, gi?ing hi a paperB Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair .eronaO find those persons out Whose na es are written there, and to the say, (y house and welco e on their pleasure stay5 Exeunt @$apulet and ParisB. "er?. !ind the out whose na es are written hereU It is written that the shoe a#er should eddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his netsO but I a sent to find those persons whose na es are here writ, and can ne?er find what na es the writing person hath here writ. I ust to the learned. In good ti e* Enter 7en?olio and &o eo. 7en. Tut, an, one fire burns out anotherNs burningO 'ne pain is lessoned by anotherNs anguishO Turn giddy, and be holp by bac#ward turningO 'ne desperate grief cures with anotherNs languish. Ta#e thou so e new infection to thy eye, 0nd the ran# poison of the old will die. &o . 1our plantain leaf is excellent for that. 7en. !or what, I pray theeU &o . !or your bro#en shin. 7en. Why, &o eo, art thou adU &o . )ot ad, but bound ore than a ad an isO "hut up in Prison, #ept without y food, WhippNd and tor ented and5 God5den, good fellow. "er?. God giN go5den. I pray, sir, can you readU &o . 0y, ine own fortune in y isery. "er?. Perhaps you ha?e learned it without boo#. 7ut I pray, can you read anything you seeU &o . 0y, If I #now the letters and the language. "er?. 1e say honestly. &est you erry* &o . "tay, fellowO I can read. -e reads. N"ignior (artino and his wife and daughtersO $ounty 0nsel o and his beauteous sistersO The lady widow of .itru?ioO "ignior Placentio and -is lo?ely niecesO
(ercutio and his brother .alentineO (ine uncle $apulet, his wife, and daughtersO (y fair niece &osaline and Li?iaO "ignior .alentio and -is cousin TybaltO Lucio and the li?ely -elena.N @Gi?es bac# the paper.B 0 fair asse bly. Whither should they co eU "er?. 9p. &o . WhitherU "er?. To supper, to our house. &o . Whose houseU "er?. (y asterNs. &o . Indeed I should ha?e as#Nd you that before. "er?. )ow INll tell you without as#ing. (y aster is the great rich $apuletO and if you be not of the house of (ontagues, I pray co e and crush a cup of wine. &est you erry* Exit. 7en. 0t this sa e ancient feast of $apuletNs "ups the fair &osaline who thou so lo?NstO With all the ad ired beauties of .erona. Go thither, and with unattainted eye $o pare her face with so e that I shall show, 0nd I will a#e thee thin# thy swan a crow. &o . When the de?out religion of ine eye (aintains such falsehood, then turn tears to firesO 0nd these, who, often drownNd, could ne?er die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars* 'ne fairer than y lo?eU The all5seeing sun )eNer saw her atch since first the world begun. 7en. Tut* you saw her fair, none else being by, -erself poisNd with herself in either eyeO 7ut in that crystal scales let there be weighNd 1our ladyNs lo?e against so e other aid That I will show you shining at this feast, 0nd she shall scant show well that now see s best. &o . INll go along, no such sight to be shown, 7ut to rejoice in splendour of y own. @Exeunt.B
"cene III. $apuletNs house. Enter $apuletNs Wife, and )urse. Wife. )urse, whereNs y daughterU $all her forth to )urse. )ow, by y aidenhead at twel?e year old, I bade her co e. What, la b* what ladybird* God forbid* WhereNs this girlU What, 8uliet* Enter 8uliet. 8ul. -ow nowU Who callsU )urse. 1our other. 8ul. (ada , I a here. What is your willU Wife. This is the atter5 )urse, gi?e lea?e awhile, We ust tal# in secret. )urse, co e bac# againO I ha?e re e bNred e, thouNs hear our counsel. Thou #nowest y daughterNs of a pretty age. )urse. !aith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Wife. "heNs not fourteen. )urse. INll lay fourteen of y teeth5 e.
0nd yet, to y teen be it spo#en, I ha?e but four5 "he is not fourteen. -ow long is it now To La astideU Wife. 0 fortnight and odd days. )urse. E?en or odd, of all days in the year, $o e La as E?e at night shall she be fourteen. "usan and she :God rest all $hristian souls*; Were of an age. Well, "usan is with GodO "he was too good for e. 7ut, as I said, 'n La as E?e at night shall she be fourteenO That shall she, arryO I re e ber it well. NTis since the earthRua#e now ele?en yearsO 0nd she was weanNd :I ne?er shall forget it;, 'f all the days of the year, upon that dayO !or I had then laid wor wood to y dug, "itting in the sun under the do?ehouse wall. (y lord and you were then at (antua. )ay, I do bear a brain. 7ut, as I said, When it did taste the wor wood on the nipple 'f y dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug* "ha#e, Ruoth the do?ehouse* NTwas no need, I trow, To bid e trudge. 0nd since that ti e it is ele?en years, !or then she could stand high5loneO nay, by thN rood, "he could ha?e run and waddled all aboutO !or e?en the day before, she bro#e her browO 0nd then y husband :God be with his soul* N0 was a erry an; too# up the child. N1ea,N Ruoth he, Ndost thou fall upon thy faceU Thou wilt fall bac#ward when thou hast ore witO Wilt thou not, 8uleUN and, by y holida , The pretty wretch left crying, and said N0y.N To see now how a jest shall co e about* I warrant, an I should li?e a thousand yeas, I ne?er should forget it. NWilt thou not, 8uleUN Ruoth he, 0nd, pretty fool, it stinted, and said N0y.N Wife. Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace. )urse. 1es, ada . 1et I cannot choose but laugh To thin# it should lea?e crying and say N0y.N 0nd yet, I warrant, it bad upon it brow 0 bu p as big as a young coc#NrelNs stoneO 0 perilous #noc#O and it cried bitterly. N1ea,N Ruoth y husband, NfallNst upon thy faceU Thou wilt fall bac#ward when thou co est to ageO Wilt thou not, 8uleUN It stinted, and said N0y.N 8ul. 0nd stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. )urse. Peace, I ha?e done. God ar# thee to his grace* Thou wast the prettiest babe that eNer I nursNd. 0n I ight li?e to see thee arried once, I ha?e y wish. Wife. (arry, that N arryN is the ?ery the e I ca e to tal# of. Tell e, daughter 8uliet, -ow stands your disposition to be arriedU 8ul. It is an honour that I drea not of. )urse. 0n honourU Were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suc#Nd wisdo fro thy teat. Wife. Well, thin# of arriage now. 1ounger than you, -ere in .erona, ladies of estee , 0re ade already others. 7y y count, I was your other uch upon these years That you are now a aid. Thus then in briefE The ?aliant Paris see#s you for his lo?e. )urse. 0 an, young lady* lady, such a an 0s all the world5 why heNs a an of wax. Wife. .eronaNs su er hath not such a flower. )urse. )ay, heNs a flower, in faith5 a ?ery flower.
Wife. What say youU $an you lo?e the gentle anU This night you shall behold hi at our feast. &ead oNer the ?olu e of young ParisN face, 0nd find delight writ there with beautyNs penO Exa ine e?ery arried linea ent, 0nd see how one another lends contentO 0nd what obscurNd in this fair ?olu e lies !ind written in the argent of his eyes, This precious boo# of lo?e, this unbound lo?er, To beautify hi only lac#s a co?er. The fish li?es in the sea, and Ntis uch pride !or fair without the fair within to hide. That boo# in anyNs eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps loc#s in the golden storyO "o shall you share all that he doth possess, 7y ha?ing hi a#ing yourself no less. )urse. )o lessU )ay, bigger* Wo en grow by en Wife. "pea# briefly, can you li#e of ParisN lo?eU 8ul. INll loo# to li#e, if loo#ing li#ing o?eO 7ut no ore deep will I endart ine eye Than your consent gi?es strength to a#e it fly. Enter "er?ing an. "er?. (ada , the guests are co e, supper ser?Nd up, you callNd, y young lady as#Nd for, the nurse cursNd in the pantry, and e?erything in extre ity. I ust hence to wait. I beseech you follow straight. Wife. We follow thee. Exit @"er?ing anB. 8uliet, the $ounty stays. )urse. Go, girl, see# happy nights to happy days. Exeunt.
"cene I.. 0 street. Enter &o eo, (ercutio, 7en?olio, with fi?e or six other (as#ersO Torchbearers. &o . What, shall this speech be spo#e for our excuseU 'r shall we on without apologyU 7en. The date is out of such prolixity. WeNll ha?e no $upid hoodwin#Nd with a scarf, 7earing a TartarNs painted bow of lath, "caring the ladies li#e a crow#eeperO )or no without5boo# prologue, faintly spo#e 0fter the pro pter, for our entranceO 7ut, let the easure us by what they will, WeNll easure the a easure, and be gone. &o . Gi?e e a torch. I a not for this a bling. 7eing but hea?y, I will bear the light. (er. )ay, gentle &o eo, we ust ha?e you dance. &o . )ot I, belie?e e. 1ou ha?e dancing shoes With ni ble solesO I ha?e a soul of lead "o sta#es e to the ground I cannot o?e. (er. 1ou are a lo?er. 7orrow $upidNs wings 0nd soar with the abo?e a co on bound. &o . I a too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathersO and so bound I cannot bound a pitch abo?e dull woe. 9nder lo?eNs hea?y burthen do I sin#. (er. 0nd, to sin# in it, should you burthen lo?e5
Too great oppression for a tender thing. &o . Is lo?e a tender thingU It is too rough, Too rude, too boistNrous, and it pric#s li#e thorn. (er. If lo?e be rough with you, be rough with lo?e. Pric# lo?e for pric#ing, and you beat lo?e down. Gi?e e a case to put y ?isage in. 0 ?isor for a ?isor* What care I What curious eye doth Ruote defor itiesU -ere are the beetle brows shall blush for e. 7en. $o e, #noc# and enterO and no sooner in 7ut e?ery an beta#e hi to his legs. &o . 0 torch for e* Let wantons light of heart Tic#le the senseless rushes with their heelsO !or I a pro?erbNd with a grandsire phrase, INll be a candle5holder and loo# onO The ga e was neNer so fair, and I a done. (er. Tut* dunNs the ouse, the constableNs own word* If thou art %un, weNll draw thee fro the ire 'f this sir5re?erence lo?e, wherein thou stic#Nst 9p to the ears. $o e, we burn daylight, ho* &o . )ay, thatNs not so. (er. I ean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in ?ain, li#e la ps by day. Ta#e our good eaning, for our judg ent sits !i?e ti es in that ere once in our fi?e wits. &o . 0nd we ean well, in going to this asRueO 7ut Ntis no wit to go. (er. Why, ay one as#U &o . I drea t a drea to5night. (er. 0nd so did I. &o . Well, what was yoursU (er. That drea ers often lie. &o . In bed asleep, while they do drea things true. (er. ', then I see Sueen (ab hath been with you. "he is the fairiesN idwife, and she co es In shape no bigger than an agate stone 'n the forefinger of an alder an, %rawn with a tea of little ato ies 0thwart enNs noses as they lie asleepO -er wagon spo#es ade of long spinnersN legs, The co?er, of the wings of grasshoppersO -er traces, of the s allest spiderNs webO -er collars, of the oonshineNs watNry bea sO -er whip, of cric#etNs boneO the lash, of fil O -er wagoner, a s all grey5coated gnat, )ot half so big as a round little wor Pric#Nd fro the laDy finger of a aidO -er chariot is an e pty haDelnut, (ade by the joiner sRuirrel or old grub, Ti e out oN ind the fairiesN coach a#ers. 0nd in this state she Ngallops night by night Through lo?ersN brains, and then they drea of lo?eO 'Ner courtiersN #nees, that drea on cursies straightO 'Ner lawyersN fingers, who straight drea on feesO 'Ner ladiesN lips, who straight on #isses drea , Which oft the angry (ab with blisters plagues, 7ecause their breaths with sweet eats tainted are. "o eti e she gallops oNer a courtierNs nose, 0nd then drea s he of s elling out a suitO 0nd so eti e co es she with a tithe5pigNs tail Tic#ling a parsonNs nose as Na lies asleep, Then drea s he of another benefice. "o eti es she dri?eth oNer a soldierNs nec#, 0nd then drea s he of cutting foreign throats, 'f breaches, a buscadoes, "panish blades, 'f healths fi?e fado deepO and then anon
%ru s in his ear, at which he starts and wa#es, 0nd being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two 0nd sleeps again. This is that ?ery (ab That plats the anes of horses in the night 0nd ba#es the elfloc#s in foul sluttish, hairs, Which once untangled uch isfortune bodes This is the hag, when aids lie on their bac#s, That presses the and learns the first to bear, (a#ing the wo en of good carriage. This is she5 &o . Peace, peace, (ercutio, peace* Thou tal#Nst of nothing. (er. True, I tal# of drea sO Which are the children of an idle brain, 7egot of nothing but ?ain fantasyO Which is as thin of substance as the air, 0nd ore inconstant than the wind, who wooes E?en now the froDen boso of the )orth 0nd, being angerNd, puffs away fro thence, Turning his face to the dew5dropping "outh. 7en. This wind you tal# of blows us fro oursel?es. "upper is done, and we shall co e too late. &o . I fear, too earlyO for y ind isgi?es "o e conseRuence, yet hanging in the stars, "hall bitterly begin his fearful date With this nightNs re?els and expire the ter 'f a despised life, closNd in y breast, 7y so e ?ile forfeit of unti ely death. 7ut he that hath the steerage of y course %irect y sail* 'n, lusty gentle en* 7en. "tri#e, dru . They arch about the stage. @Exeunt.B
"cene .. $apuletNs house. "er?ing en co e forth with nap#ins. 2. "er?. WhereNs Potpan, that he helps not to ta#e awayU -e shift a trencher* he scrape a trencher* <. "er?. When good anners shall lie all in one or two enNs hands, and they unwashNd too, Ntis a foul thing. 2. "er?. 0way with the join5stools, re o?e the court5cubbert, loo# to the plate. Good thou, sa?e e a piece of archpane and, as thou lo?es e, let the porter let in "usan Grindstone and )ell. 0nthony, and Potpan* <. "er?. 0y, boy, ready. 2. "er?. 1ou are loo#Nd for and callNd for, as#Nd for and sought for, in the great cha ber. 6. "er?. We cannot be here and there too. $heerly, boys* 7e bris# awhile, and the longer li?er ta#e all. Exeunt. Enter the (as#ers, Enter, @with "er?ants,B $apulet, his Wife, 8uliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests and Gentlewo en to the (as#ers. $ap. Welco e, gentle en* Ladies that ha?e their toes 9nplaguNd with corns will ha?e a bout with you. 0h ha, y istresses* which of you all
Will now deny to danceU "he that a#es dainty, "he INll swear hath corns. 0 I co e near ye nowU Welco e, gentle en* I ha?e seen the day That I ha?e worn a ?isor and could tell 0 whispering tale in a fair ladyNs ear, "uch as would please. NTis gone, Ntis gone, Ntis gone* 1ou are welco e, gentle en* $o e, usicians, play. 0 hall, a hall* gi?e roo * and foot it, girls. (usic plays, and they dance. (ore light, you #na?es* and turn the tables up, 0nd Ruench the fire, the roo is grown too hot. 0h, sirrah, this unloo#Nd5for sport co es well. )ay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin $apulet, !or you and I are past our dancing days. -ow long isNt now since last yourself and I Were in a as#U <. $ap. 7yNr Lady, thirty years. $ap. What, anU NTis not so uch, Ntis not so uch* NTis since the nuptial of Lucentio, $o e Pentecost as Ruic#ly as it will, "o e fi?e5and5twenty years, and then we as#Nd. <. $ap. NTis ore, Ntis ore* -is son is elder, sirO -is son is thirty. $ap. Will you tell e thatU -is son was but a ward two years ago. &o . @to a "er?ing anB What ladyNs that, which doth enrich the hand 'f yonder #nightU "er?. I #now not, sir. &o . ', she doth teach the torches to burn bright* It see s she hangs upon the chee# of night Li#e a rich jewel in an EthiopNs ear5 7eauty too rich for use, for earth too dear* "o shows a snowy do?e trooping with crows 0s yonder lady oNer her fellows shows. The easure done, INll watch her place of stand 0nd, touching hers, a#e blessed y rude hand. %id y heart lo?e till nowU !orswear it, sight* !or I neNer saw true beauty till this night. Tyb. This, by his ?oice, should be a (ontague. !etch e y rapier, boy. What, dares the sla?e $o e hither, co?erNd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our sole nityU )ow, by the stoc# and honour of y #in, To stri#e hi dead I hold it not a sin. $ap. Why, how now, #ins anU Wherefore stor you soU Tyb. 9ncle, this is a (ontague, our foeO 0 ?illain, that is hither co e in spite To scorn at our sole nity this night. $ap. 1oung &o eo is itU Tyb. NTis he, that ?illain &o eo. $ap. $ontent thee, gentle coD, let hi alone. N0 bears hi li#e a portly gentle an, 0nd, to say truth, .erona brags of hi To be a ?irtuous and well5go?ernNd youth. I would not for the wealth of all this town -ere in y house do hi disparage ent. Therefore be patient, ta#e no note of hi . It is y willO the which if thou respect, "how a fair presence and put off these frowns, 0n ill5besee ing se blance for a feast. Tyb. It fits when such a ?illain is a guest. INll not endure hi . $ap. -e shall be endurNd. What, good an boyU I say he shall. Go to* 0 I the aster here, or youU Go to*
1ouNll not endure hi U God shall end y soul* 1ouNll a#e a utiny a ong y guests* 1ou will set coc#5a5hoop* youNll be the an* Tyb. Why, uncle, Ntis a sha e. $ap. Go to, go to* 1ou are a saucy boy. IsNt so, indeedU This tric# ay chance to scathe you. I #now what. 1ou ust contrary e* (arry, Ntis ti e.5 Well said, y hearts*5 1ou are a princox5 go* 7e Ruiet, or5 (ore light, ore light*5 !or sha e* INll a#e you RuietO what*5 $heerly, y hearts* Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler eeting (a#es y flesh tre ble in their different greeting. I will withdrawO but this intrusion shall, )ow see ing sweet, con?ert to bittNrest gall. Exit. &o . If I profane with y unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is thisE (y lips, two blushing pilgri s, ready stand To s ooth that rough touch with a tender #iss. 8ul. Good pilgri , you do wrong your hand too uch, Which annerly de?otion shows in thisO !or saints ha?e hands that pilgri sN hands do touch, 0nd pal to pal is holy pal ersN #iss. &o . -a?e not saints lips, and holy pal ers tooU 8ul. 0y, pilgri , lips that they ust use in prayNr. &o . ', then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do* They prayO grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 8ul. "aints do not o?e, though grant for prayersN sa#e. &o . Then o?e not while y prayerNs effect I ta#e. Thus fro y lips, by thine y sin is purgNd. @/isses her.B 8ul. Then ha?e y lips the sin that they ha?e too#. &o . "in fro y lipsU ' trespass sweetly urgNd* Gi?e e y sin again. @/isses her.B 8ul. 1ou #iss by thN boo#. )urse. (ada , your other cra?es a word with you. &o . What is her otherU )urse. (arry, bachelor, -er other is the lady of the house. 0nd a good lady, and a wise and ?irtuous. I nursNd her daughter that you tal#Nd withal. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her "hall ha?e the chin#s. &o . Is she a $apuletU ' dear account* y life is y foeNs debt. 7en. 0way, be goneO the sport is at the best. &o . 0y, so I fearO the ore is y unrest. $ap. )ay, gentle en, prepare not to be goneO We ha?e a trifling foolish banRuet towards. Is it eNen soU Why then, I than# you all. I than# you, honest gentle en. Good night. (ore torches here* @Exeunt (as#ers.B $o e on then, letNs to bed. 0h, sirrah, by y fay, it waxes lateO INll to y rest. Exeunt @all but 8uliet and )urseB. 8ul. $o e hither, nurse. What is yond gentle anU )urse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. 8ul. WhatNs he that now is going out of doorU )urse. (arry, that, I thin#, be young Petruchio. 8ul. WhatNs he that follows there, that would not danceU )urse. I #now not. 8ul. Go as# his na e.5 If he be arried, (y gra?e is li#e to be y wedding bed. )urse. -is na e is &o eo, and a (ontague, The only son of your great ene y. 8ul. (y only lo?e, sprung fro y only hate*
Too early seen un#nown, and #nown too late* Prodigious birth of lo?e it is to e That I ust lo?e a loathed ene y. )urse. WhatNs thisU whatNs thisU 8ul. 0 rhy e I learnt e?en now 'f one I dancNd withal. 'ne calls within, N8uliet.N )urse. 0non, anon* $o e, letNs awayO the strangers all are gone.
,,T-I" ELE$T&')I$ .E&"I') '! T-E $'(PLETE W'&/" '! WILLI0( "-0/E"PE0&E I" $'P1&IG-T 233452336 71 W'&L% LI7&0&1, I)$., 0)% I" P&'.I%E% 71 P&'8E$T G9TE)7E&G ETEMT '! $0&)EGIE (ELL') 9)I.E&"IT1 WIT- PE&(I""I'). ELE$T&')I$ 0)% (0$-I)E &E0%07LE $'PIE" (01 7E %I"T&I79TE% "' L')G 0" "9$- $'PIE" :2; 0&E !'& 1'9& '& 'T-E&" PE&"')0L 9"E ')L1, 0)% :<; 0&E )'T %I"T&I79TE% '& 9"E% $'((E&$I0LL1. P&'-I7ITE% $'((E&$I0L %I"T&I79TI') I)$L9%E" 71 0)1 "E&.I$E T-0T $-0&GE" !'& %'W)L'0% TI(E '& !'& (E(7E&"-IP.==
P&'L'G9E Enter $horus. $hor. )ow old desire doth in his deathbed lie, 0nd young affection gapes to be his heirO That fair for which lo?e groanNd for and would die, With tender 8uliet atchNd, is now not fair. )ow &o eo is belo?Nd, and lo?es again, 0li#e bewitched by the char of loo#sO 7ut to his foe supposNd he ust co plain, 0nd she steal lo?eNs sweet bait fro fearful hoo#s. 7eing held a foe, he ay not ha?e access To breathe such ?ows as lo?ers use to swear, 0nd she as uch in lo?e, her eans uch less To eet her new belo?ed anywhereO 7ut passion lends the power, ti e eans, to eet, Te pNring extre ities with extre e sweet. Exit.
0$T II. "cene I. 0 lane by the wall of $apuletNs orchard. Enter &o eo alone. &o . $an I go forward when y heart is hereU Turn bac#, dull earth, and find thy centre out. @$li bs the wall and leaps down within it.B Enter 7en?olio with (ercutio. 7en. &o eo* y cousin &o eo* &o eo* (er. -e is wise, 0nd, on y life, hath stolNn hi ho e to bed. 7en. -e ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. $all, good (ercutio. (er. )ay, INll conjure too. &o eo* hu ours* ad an* passion* lo?er* 0ppear thou in the li#eness of a sighO
"pea# but one rhy e, and I a satisfied* $ry but N0y e*N pronounce but Nlo?eN and Ndo?eNO "pea# to y gossip .enus one fair word, 'ne nic#na e for her purblind son and heir, 1oung 0da $upid, he that shot so tri When /ing $ophetua lo?Nd the beggar aid* -e heareth not, he stirreth not, be o?eth notO The ape is dead, and I ust conjure hi . I conjure thee by &osalineNs bright eyes. 7y her high forehead and her scarlet lip, 7y her fine foot, straight leg, and Rui?ering thigh, 0nd the de esnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy li#eness thou appear to us* 7en. 0n if he hear thee, thou wilt anger hi . (er. This cannot anger hi . NTwould anger hi To raise a spirit in his istressN circle 'f so e strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it and conjurNd it down. That were so e spiteO y in?ocation Is fair and honestE in his istressN na e, I conjure only but to raise up hi . 7en. $o e, he hath hid hi self a ong these trees To be consorted with the hu orous night. 7lind is his lo?e and best befits the dar#. (er. If lo?e be blind, lo?e cannot hit the ar#. )ow will he sit under a edlar tree 0nd wish his istress were that #ind of fruit 0s aids call edlars when they laugh alone. ', &o eo, that she were, ' that she were 0n open et cetera, thou a popNrin pear* &o eo, good night. INll to y truc#le5bedO This field5bed is too cold for e to sleep. $o e, shall we goU 7en. Go then, for Ntis in ?ain NTo see# hi here that eans not to be found. Exeunt.
"cene II. $apuletNs orchard. Enter &o eo. &o . -e jests at scars that ne?er felt a wound. Enter 8uliet abo?e at a window. 7ut soft* What light through yonder window brea#sU It is the East, and 8uliet is the sun* 0rise, fair sun, and #ill the en?ious oon, Who is already sic# and pale with grief That thou her aid art far ore fair than she. 7e not her aid, since she is en?ious. -er ?estal li?ery is but sic# and green, 0nd none but fools do wear it. $ast it off. It is y ladyO ', it is y lo?e* ' that she #new she were* "he spea#s, yet she says nothing. What of thatU -er eye discoursesO I will answer it. I a too boldO Ntis not to e she spea#s. Two of the fairest stars in all the hea?en, -a?ing so e business, do entreat her eyes To twin#le in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her headU
The brightness of her chee# would sha e those stars 0s daylight doth a la pO her eyes in hea?en Would through the airy region strea so bright That birds would sing and thin# it were not night. "ee how she leans her chee# upon her hand* ' that I were a glo?e upon that hand, That I ight touch that chee#* 8ul. 0y e* &o . "he spea#s. ', spea# again, bright angel* for thou art 0s glorious to this night, being oNer y head, 0s is a winged essenger of hea?en 9nto the white5upturned wondNring eyes 'f ortals that fall bac# to gaDe on hi When he bestrides the laDy5pacing clouds 0nd sails upon the boso of the air. 8ul. ' &o eo, &o eo* wherefore art thou &o eoU %eny thy father and refuse thy na e* 'r, if thou wilt not, be but sworn y lo?e, 0nd INll no longer be a $apulet. &o . @asideB "hall I hear ore, or shall I spea# at thisU 8ul. NTis but thy na e that is y ene y. Thou art thyself, though not a (ontague. WhatNs (ontagueU it is nor hand, nor foot, )or ar , nor face, nor any other part 7elonging to a an. ', be so e other na e* WhatNs in a na eU That which we call a rose 7y any other na e would s ell as sweet. "o &o eo would, were he not &o eo callNd, &etain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. &o eo, doff thy na eO 0nd for that na e, which is no part of thee, Ta#e all yself. &o . I ta#e thee at thy word. $all e but lo?e, and INll be new baptiDNdO -enceforth I ne?er will be &o eo. 8ul. What an art thou that, thus bescreenNd in night, "o stu blest on y counselU &o . 7y a na e I #now not how to tell thee who I a . (y na e, dear saint, is hateful to yself, 7ecause it is an ene y to thee. -ad I it written, I would tear the word. 8ul. (y ears ha?e yet not drun# a hundred words 'f that tongueNs utterance, yet I #now the sound. 0rt thou not &o eo, and a (ontagueU &o . )either, fair saint, if either thee disli#e. 8ul. -ow ca Nst thou hither, tell e, and whereforeU The orchard walls are high and hard to cli b, 0nd the place death, considering who thou art, If any of y #ins en find thee here. &o . With lo?eNs light wings did I oNerperch these wallsO !or stony li its cannot hold lo?e out, 0nd what lo?e can do, that dares lo?e atte pt. Therefore thy #ins en are no let to e. 8ul. If they do see thee, they will urther thee. &o . 0lac#, there lies ore peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords* Loo# thou but sweet, 0nd I a proof against their en ity. 8ul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. &o . I ha?e nightNs cloa# to hide e fro their sightO 0nd but thou lo?e e, let the find e here. (y life were better ended by their hate Than death prorogued, wanting of thy lo?e. 8ul. 7y whose direction foundNst thou out this placeU &o . 7y lo?e, that first did pro pt e to enRuire.
-e lent e counsel, and I lent hi eyes. I a no pilotO yet, wert thou as far 0s that ?ast shore washNd with the farthest sea, I would ad?enture for such erchandise. 8ul. Thou #nowest the as# of night is on y faceO Else would a aiden blush bepaint y chee# !or that which thou hast heard e spea# to5night. !ain would I dwell on for 5 fain, fain deny What I ha?e spo#eO but farewell co pli ent* %ost thou lo?e e, I #now thou wilt say N0yNO 0nd I will ta#e thy word. 1et, if thou swearNst, Thou ayst pro?e false. 0t lo?ersN perjuries, They say 8o?e laughs. ' gentle &o eo, If thou dost lo?e, pronounce it faithfully. 'r if thou thin#est I a too Ruic#ly won, INll frown, and be per?erse, and say thee nay, "o thou wilt wooO but else, not for the world. In truth, fair (ontague, I a too fond, 0nd therefore thou ayst thin# y ha?iour lightO 7ut trust e, gentle an, INll pro?e ore true Than those that ha?e ore cunning to be strange. I should ha?e been ore strange, I ust confess, 7ut that thou o?erheardNst, ere I was ware, (y true5lo?e passion. Therefore pardon e, 0nd not i pute this yielding to light lo?e, Which the dar# night hath so disco?ered. &o . Lady, by yonder blessed oon I swear, That tips with sil?er all these fruit5tree tops5 8ul. ', swear not by the oon, thN inconstant oon, That onthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy lo?e pro?e li#ewise ?ariable. &o . What shall I swear byU 8ul. %o not swear at allO 'r if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of y idolatry, 0nd INll belie?e thee. &o . If y heartNs dear lo?e5 8ul. Well, do not swear. 0lthough I joy in thee, I ha?e no joy of this contract to5night. It is too rash, too unad?isNd, too suddenO Too li#e the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say NIt lightens.N "weet, good night* This bud of lo?e, by su erNs ripening breath, (ay pro?e a beauteous flowNr when next we eet. Good night, good night* 0s sweet repose and rest $o e to thy heart as that within y breast* &o . ', wilt thou lea?e e so unsatisfiedU 8ul. What satisfaction canst thou ha?e to5nightU &o . ThN exchange of thy lo?eNs faithful ?ow for ine. 8ul. I ga?e thee ine before thou didst reRuest itO 0nd yet I would it were to gi?e again. &o . WouldNst thou withdraw itU !or what purpose, lo?eU 8ul. 7ut to be fran# and gi?e it thee again. 0nd yet I wish but for the thing I ha?e. (y bounty is as boundless as the sea, (y lo?e as deepO the ore I gi?e to thee, The ore I ha?e, for both are infinite. I hear so e noise within. %ear lo?e, adieu* @)urseB calls within. 0non, good nurse* "weet (ontague, be true. "tay but a little, I will co e again. @Exit.B &o . ' blessed, blessed night* I a afeard, 7eing in night, all this is but a drea , Too flattering5sweet to be substantial. Enter 8uliet abo?e.
8ul. Three words, dear &o eo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of lo?e be honourable, Thy purpose arriage, send e word to5 orrow, 7y one that INll procure to co e to thee, Where and what ti e thou wilt perfor the riteO 0nd all y fortunes at thy foot INll lay 0nd follow thee y lord throughout the world. )urse. :within; (ada * 8ul. I co e, anon.5 7ut if thou eanest not well, I do beseech thee5 )urse. :within; (ada * 8ul. 7y5and5by I co e.5 To cease thy suit and lea?e e to y grief. To5 orrow will I send. &o . "o thri?e y soul5 8ul. 0 thousand ti es good night* Exit. &o . 0 thousand ti es the worse, to want thy light* Lo?e goes toward lo?e as schoolboys fro their boo#sO 7ut lo?e fro lo?e, towards school with hea?y loo#s. Enter 8uliet again, @abo?eB. 8ul. -ist* &o eo, hist* ' for a falconerNs ?oice To lure this tassel5gentle bac# again* 7ondage is hoarse and ay not spea# aloudO Else would I tear the ca?e where Echo lies, 0nd a#e her airy tongue ore hoarse than ine With repetition of y &o eoNs na e. &o eo* &o . It is y soul that calls upon y na e. -ow sil?er5sweet sound lo?ersN tongues by night, Li#e softest usic to attending ears* 8ul. &o eo* &o . (y dearU 8ul. 0t what oNcloc# to5 orrow "hall I send to theeU &o . 7y the hour of nine. 8ul. I will not fail. NTis twenty years till then. I ha?e forgot why I did call thee bac#. &o . Let e stand here till thou re e ber it. 8ul. I shall forget, to ha?e thee still stand there, &e e bNring how I lo?e thy co pany. &o . 0nd INll still stay, to ha?e thee still forget, !orgetting any other ho e but this. 8ul. NTis al ost orning. I would ha?e thee gone5 0nd yet no farther than a wantonNs bird, That lets it hop a little fro her hand, Li#e a poor prisoner in his twisted gy?es, 0nd with a sil# thread pluc#s it bac# again, "o lo?ing5jealous of his liberty. &o . I would I were thy bird. 8ul. "weet, so would I. 1et I should #ill thee with uch cherishing. Good night, good night* Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be orrow. @Exit.B &o . "leep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast* Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest* -ence will I to y ghostly fatherNs cell, -is help to cra?e and y dear hap to tell. Exit
"cene III. !riar LaurenceNs cell. Enter !riar, @LaurenceB alone, with a bas#et. !riar. The grey5eyNd orn s iles on the frowning night, $hec#Nring the Eastern clouds with strea#s of lightO 0nd flec#ed dar#ness li#e a drun#ard reels !ro forth dayNs path and TitanNs fiery wheels. )on, ere the sun ad?ance his burning eye The day to cheer and nightNs dan# dew to dry, I ust up5fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious5juiced flowers. The earth thatNs natureNs other is her to b. What is her burying ga?e, that is her wo bO 0nd fro her wo b children of di?ers #ind We suc#ing on her natural boso findO (any for any ?irtues excellent, )one but for so e, and yet all different. ', ic#le is the powerful grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true RualitiesO !or naught so ?ile that on the earth doth li?e 7ut to the earth so e special good doth gi?eO )or aught so good but, strainNd fro that fair use, &e?olts fro true birth, stu bling on abuse. .irtue itself turns ?ice, being isapplied, 0nd ?ice so eti eNs by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this s all flower Poison hath residence, and edicine powerO !or this, being s elt, with that part cheers each partO 7eing tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed #ings enca p the still In an as well as herbs5 grace and rude willO 0nd where the worser is predo inant, !ull soon the can#er death eats up that plant. Enter &o eo. &o . Good orrow, father. !riar. 7enedicite* What early tongue so sweet saluteth eU 1oung son, it argues a diste pered head "o soon to bid good orrow to thy bed. $are #eeps his watch in e?ery old anNs eye, 0nd where care lodges sleep will ne?er lieO 7ut where unbruised youth with unstuffNd brain %oth couch his li bs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth e assure Thou art uprousNd with so e diste pNratureO 'r if not so, then here I hit it right5 'ur &o eo hath not been in bed to5night. &o . That last is true5the sweeter rest was ine. !riar. God pardon sin* Wast thou with &osalineU &o . With &osaline, y ghostly fatherU )o. I ha?e forgot that na e, and that na eNs woe. !riar. ThatNs y good son* 7ut where hast thou been thenU &o . INll tell thee ere thou as# it e again. I ha?e been feasting with ine ene y, Where on a sudden one hath wounded e ThatNs by e wounded. 7oth our re edies Within thy help and holy physic lies. I bear no hatred, blessed an, for, lo, (y intercession li#ewise steads y foe. !riar. 7e plain, good son, and ho ely in thy drift &iddling confession finds but riddling shrift. &o . Then plainly #now y heartNs dear lo?e is set
'n the fair daughter of rich $apuletO 0s ine on hers, so hers is set on ine, 0nd all co binNd, sa?e what thou ust co bine 7y holy arriage. When, and where, and how We et, we wooNd, and ade exchange of ?ow, INll tell thee as we passO but this I pray, That thou consent to arry us to5day. !riar. -oly "aint !rancis* What a change is here* Is &osaline, that thou didst lo?e so dear, "o soon forsa#enU 1oung enNs lo?e then lies )ot truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 8esu (aria* What a deal of brine -ath washNd thy sallow chee#s for &osaline* -ow uch salt water thrown away in waste, To season lo?e, that of it doth not taste* The sun not yet thy sighs fro hea?en clears, Thy old groans ring yet in ine ancient ears. Lo, here upon thy chee# the stain doth sit 'f an old tear that is not washNd off yet. If eNer thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for &osaline. 0nd art thou changNdU Pronounce this sentence thenE Wo en ay fall when thereNs no strength in en. &o . Thou chidNst e oft for lo?ing &osaline. !riar. !or doting, not for lo?ing, pupil ine. &o . 0nd badNst e bury lo?e. !riar. )ot in a gra?e To lay one in, another out to ha?e. &o . I pray thee chide not. "he who I lo?e now %oth grace for grace and lo?e for lo?e allow. The other did not so. !riar. ', she #new well Thy lo?e did read by rote, that could not spell. 7ut co e, young wa?erer, co e go with e. In one respect INll thy assistant beO !or this alliance ay so happy pro?e To turn your householdsN rancour to pure lo?e. &o . ', let us hence* I stand on sudden haste. !riar. Wisely, and slow. They stu ble that run fast. Exeunt.
"cene I.. 0 street. Enter 7en?olio and (ercutio. (er. Where the de?il should this &o eo beU $a e he not ho e to5nightU 7en. )ot to his fatherNs. I spo#e with his an. (er. Why, that sa e pale hard5hearted wench, that &osaline, Tor ents hi so that he will sure run ad. 7en. Tybalt, the #ins an to old $apulet, -ath sent a letter to his fatherNs house. (er. 0 challenge, on y life. 7en. &o eo will answer it. (er. 0ny an that can write ay answer a letter. 7en. )ay, he will answer the letterNs aster, how he dares, being dared. (er. 0las, poor &o eo, he is already dead* stabbNd with a white wenchNs blac# eyeO shot through the ear with a lo?e songO the ?ery pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow5boyNs butt5shaftO
and is he a an to encounter TybaltU 7en. Why, what is TybaltU (er. (ore than Prince of $ats, I can tell you. ', heNs the courageous captain of co pli ents. -e fights as you sing pric#song5#eeps ti e, distance, and proportionO rests e his ini rest, one, two, and the third in your boso * the ?ery butcher of a sil# button, a duellist, a duellist* a gentle an of the ?ery first house, of the first and second cause. 0h, the i ortal passado* the punto re?erse* the hay. 7en. The whatU (er. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes5 these new tuners of accent* N7y 8esu, a ?ery good blade* a ?ery tall an* a ?ery good whore*N Why, is not this a la entable thing, grandsir, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion5 ongers, these pardona5 iNs, who stand so uch on the new for that they cannot sit at ease on the old benchU ', their bones, their bones* Enter &o eo. 7en. -ere co es &o eo* here co es &o eo* (er. Without his roe, li#e a dried herring. ' flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified* )ow is he for the nu bers that Petrarch flowed in. Laura, to his lady, was but a #itchen wench : arry, she had a better lo?e to berhy e her;, %ido a dowdy, $leopatra a gypsy, -elen and -ero hildings and harlots, This be a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose. "ignior &o eo, bon jour* ThereNs a !rench salutation to your !rench slop. 1ou ga?e us the counterfeit fairly last night. &o . Good orrow to you both. What counterfeit did I gi?e youU (er. The slip, sir, the slip. $an you not concei?eU &o . Pardon, good (ercutio. (y business was great, and in such a case as ine a an ay strain courtesy. (er. ThatNs as uch as to say, such a case as yours constrains a an to bow in the ha s. &o . (eaning, to cursy. (er. Thou hast ost #indly hit it. &o . 0 ost courteous exposition. (er. )ay, I a the ?ery pin# of courtesy. &o . Pin# for flower. (er. &ight. &o . Why, then is y pu p well5flowerNd. (er. Well said* !ollow e this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pu p, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest ay re ain, after the wearing, solely singular. &o . ' single5sold jest, solely singular for the singleness* (er. $o e between us, good 7en?olio* (y wits faint. &o . "wits and spurs, swits and spurs* or INll cry a atch. (er. )ay, if our wits run the wild5goose chase, I a doneO for thou hast ore of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I a sure, I ha?e in y whole fi?e. Was I with you there for the gooseU &o . Thou wast ne?er with e for anything when thou wast not
there for the goose. (er. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. &o . )ay, good goose, bite not* (er. Thy wit is a ?ery bitter sweetingO it is a ost sharp sauce. &o . 0nd is it not, then, well ser?Nd in to a sweet gooseU (er. ', hereNs a wit of che?eril, that stretches fro an inch narrow to an ell broad* &o . I stretch it out for that word Nbroad,N which, added to the goose, pro?es thee far and wide a broad goose. (er. Why, is not this better now than groaning for lo?eU )ow art thou sociable, now art thou &o eoO now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature. !or this dri?elling lo?e is li#e a great natural that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. 7en. "top there, stop there* (er. Thou desirest e to stop in y tale against the hair. 7en. Thou wouldst else ha?e ade thy tale large. (er. ', thou art decei?Nd* I would ha?e ade it shortO for I was co e to the whole depth of y tale, and eant indeed to occupy the argu ent no longer. &o . -ereNs goodly gear* Enter )urse and her (an @PeterB. (er. 0 sail, a sail* 7en. Two, two* a shirt and a s oc#. )urse. Peter* Peter. 0non. )urse. (y fan, Peter. (er. Good Peter, to hide her faceO for her fanNs the fairer face of the two. )urse. God ye good orrow, gentle en. (er. God ye good5den, fair gentlewo an. )urse. Is it good5denU (er. NTis no less, I tell yeO for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the pric# of noon. )urse. 'ut upon you* What a an are you* &o . 'ne, gentlewo an, that God hath ade for hi self to ar. )urse. 7y y troth, it is well said. N!or hi self to ar,N Ruoth NaU Gentle en, can any of you tell e where I ay find the young &o eoU &o . I can tell youO but young &o eo will be older when you ha?e found hi than he was when you sought hi . I a the youngest of that na e, for fault of a worse. )urse. 1ou say well. (er. 1ea, is the worst wellU .ery well too#, iN faith* wisely, wisely. )urse. If you be he, sir, I desire so e confidence with you. 7en. "he will endite hi to so e supper. (er. 0 bawd, a bawd, a bawd* "o ho* &o . What hast thou foundU (er. )o hare, sirO unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is
so ething stale and hoar ere it be spent -e wal#s by the and sings. 0n old hare hoar, 0nd an old hare hoar, Is ?ery good eat in LentO 7ut a hare that is hoar Is too uch for a score When it hoars ere it be spent. &o eo, will you co e to your fatherNsU WeNll to dinner thither. &o . I will follow you. (er. !arewell, ancient lady. !arewell, @singsB lady, lady, lady. Exeunt (ercutio, 7en?olio. )urse. (arry, farewell* I Pray you, "ir, what saucy erchant was this that was so full of his roperyU &o . 0 gentle an, nurse, that lo?es to hear hi self tal# and will spea# ore in a inute than he will stand to in a onth. )urse. 0n Na spea# anything against e, INll ta#e hi down, an Na were lustier than he is, and twenty such jac#sO and if I cannot, INll find those that shall. "cur?y #na?e* I a none of his flirt5gillsO I a none of his s#ains5 ates. 0nd thou ust stand by too, and suffer e?ery #na?e to use e at his pleasure* Peter. I saw no an use you at his pleasure. If I had, y weapon should Ruic#ly ha?e been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another an, if I see occasion in a good Ruarrel, and the law on y side. )urse. )ow, afore God, I a so ?exed that e?ery part about e Rui?ers. "cur?y #na?e* Pray you, sir, a wordO and, as I told you, y young lady bid e enRuire you out. What she bid e say, I will #eep to yselfO but first let e tell ye, if ye should lead her into a foolNs paradise, as they say, it were a ?ery gross #ind of beha?iour, as they sayO for the gentlewo an is youngO and therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offNred to any gentlewo an, and ?ery wea# dealing. &o . )urse, co end e to thy lady and istress. I protest unto thee5 )urse. Good heart, and I faith I will tell her as uch. Lord, Lord* she will be a joyful wo an. &o . What wilt thou tell her, nurseU Thou dost not ar# e. )urse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I ta#e it, is a gentle anli#e offer. &o . 7id her de?ise "o e eans to co e to shrift this afternoonO 0nd there she shall at !riar LaurenceN cell 7e shri?Nd and arried. -ere is for thy pains. )urse. )o, truly, sirO not a penny. &o . Go to* I say you shall. )urse. This afternoon, sirU Well, she shall be there.
&o . 0nd stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall. Within this hour y an shall be with thee 0nd bring thee cords ade li#e a tac#led stair, Which to the high topgallant of y joy (ust be y con?oy in the secret night. !arewell. 7e trusty, and INll Ruit thy pains. !arewell. $o end e to thy istress. )urse. )ow God in hea?en bless thee* -ar# you, sir. &o . What sayNst thou, y dear nurseU )urse. Is your an secretU %id you neNer hear say, Two ay #eep counsel, putting one awayU &o . I warrant thee y anNs as true as steel. )urse. Well, sir, y istress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord* when Ntwas a little prating thing5 ', there is a noble an in town, one Paris, that would fain lay #nife aboardO but she, good soul, had as lie?e see a toad, a ?ery toad, as see hi . I anger her so eti es, and tell her that Paris is the properer anO but INll warrant you, when I say so, she loo#s as pale as any clout in the ?ersal world. %oth not rose ary and &o eo begin both with a letterU &o . 0y, nurseO what of thatU 7oth with an &. )urse. 0h, oc#er* thatNs the dogNs na e. & is for the5 )oO I #now it begins with so e other letterO and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rose ary, that it would do you good to hear it. &o . $o end e to thy lady. )urse. 0y, a thousand ti es. @Exit &o eo.B Peter* Peter. 0non. )urse. Peter, ta#e y fan, and go before, and apace. Exeunt.
"cene .. $apuletNs orchard. Enter 8uliet. 8ul. The cloc# struc# nine when I did send the nurseO In half an hour she Npro isNd to return. Perchance she cannot eet hi . ThatNs not so. ', she is la e* Lo?eNs heralds should be thoughts, Which ten ti es faster glide than the sunNs bea s %ri?ing bac# shadows o?er lowNring hills. Therefore do ni ble5pinionNd do?es draw Lo?e, 0nd therefore hath the wind5swift $upid wings. )ow is the sun upon the high ost hill 'f this dayNs journey, and fro nine till twel?e Is three long hoursO yet she is not co e. -ad she affections and war youthful blood, "he would be as swift in otion as a ballO (y words would bandy her to y sweet lo?e, 0nd his to e, 7ut old fol#s, any feign as they were dead5 9nwieldy, slow, hea?y and pale as lead. Enter )urse @and PeterB.
' God, she co es* ' honey nurse, what newsU -ast thou et with hi U "end thy an away. )urse. Peter, stay at the gate. @Exit Peter.B 8ul. )ow, good sweet nurse5 ' Lord, why loo#Nst thou sadU Though news be sad, yet tell the errilyO If good, thou sha est the usic of sweet news 7y playing it to e with so sour a face. )urse. I a aweary, gi?e e lea?e awhile. !ie, how y bones ache* What a jaunce ha?e I had* 8ul. I would thou hadst y bones, and I thy news. )ay, co e, I pray thee spea#. Good, good nurse, spea#. )urse. 8esu, what haste* $an you not stay awhileU %o you not see that I a out of breathU 8ul. -ow art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to e that thou art out of breathU The excuse that thou dost a#e in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good or badU 0nswer to that. "ay either, and INll stay the circu stance. Let e be satisfied, isNt good or badU )urse. Well, you ha?e ade a si ple choiceO you #now not how to choose a an. &o eoU )o, not he. Though his face be better than any anNs, yet his leg excels all enNsO and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be tal#Nd on, yet they are past co pare. -e is not the flower of courtesy, but, INll warrant hi , as gentle as a la b. Go thy ways, wenchO ser?e God. What, ha?e you dinNd at ho eU 8ul. )o, no. 7ut all this did I #now before. What says he of our arriageU What of thatU )urse. Lord, how y head aches* What a head ha?e I* It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. (y bac# oN tN other side,5 ah, y bac#, y bac#* 7eshrew your heart for sending e about To catch y death with jauncing up and down* 8ul. IN faith, I a sorry that thou art not well. "weet, sweet, "weet nurse, tell e, what says y lo?eU )urse. 1our lo?e says, li#e an honest gentle an, and a courteous, and a #ind, and a handso eO and, I warrant, a ?irtuous5 Where is your otherU 8ul. Where is y otherU Why, she is within. Where should she beU -ow oddly thou repliest* N1our lo?e says, li#e an honest gentle an, HWhere is your otherUHN )urse. ' GodNs Lady dear* 0re you so hotU (arry co e up, I trow. Is this the poultice for y aching bonesU -enceforward do your essages yourself. 8ul. -ereNs such a coil* $o e, what says &o eoU )urse. -a?e you got lea?e to go to shrift to5dayU 8ul. I ha?e. )urse. Then hie you hence to !riar LaurenceN cellO There stays a husband to a#e you a wife. )ow co es the wanton blood up in your chee#sE TheyNll be in scarlet straight at any news. -ie you to churchO I ust another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your lo?e (ust cli b a birdNs nest soon when it is dar#. I a the drudge, and toil in your delightO 7ut you shall bear the burthen soon at night. GoO INll to dinnerO hie you to the cell.
8ul. -ie to high fortune* -onest nurse, farewell. Exeunt.
"cene .I. !riar LaurenceNs cell. Enter !riar @LaurenceB and &o eo. !riar. "o s ile the hea?ens upon this holy act That after5hours with sorrow chide us not* &o . 0 en, a en* 7ut co e what sorrow can, It cannot counter?ail the exchange of joy That one short inute gi?es e in her sight. %o thou but close our hands with holy words, Then lo?e5de?ouring death do what he dare5 It is enough I ay but call her ine. !riar. These ?iolent delights ha?e ?iolent ends 0nd in their triu ph die, li#e fire and powder, Which, as they #iss, consu e. The sweetest honey Is loathso e in his own deliciousness 0nd in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore lo?e oderatelyE long lo?e doth soO Too swift arri?es as tardy as too slow. Enter 8uliet. -ere co es the lady. ', so light a foot Will neNer wear out the e?erlasting flint. 0 lo?er ay bestride the gossa er That idles in the wanton su er air, 0nd yet not fallO so light is ?anity. 8ul. Good e?en to y ghostly confessor. !riar. &o eo shall than# thee, daughter, for us both. 8ul. 0s uch to hi , else is his than#s too uch. &o . 0h, 8uliet, if the easure of thy joy 7e heapNd li#e ine, and that thy s#ill be ore To blaDon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich usicNs tongue 9nfold the i aginNd happiness that both &ecei?e in either by this dear encounter. 8ul. $onceit, ore rich in atter than in words, 7rags of his substance, not of orna ent. They are but beggars that can count their worthO 7ut y true lo?e is grown to such excess cannot su up su of half y wealth. !riar. $o e, co e with e, and we will a#e short wor#O !or, by your lea?es, you shall not stay alone Till -oly $hurch incorporate two in one. @Exeunt.B
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0$T III. "cene I. 0 public place. Enter (ercutio, 7en?olio, and (en. 7en. I pray thee, good (ercutio, letNs retire. The day is hot, the $apulets abroad. 0nd if we eet, we shall not scape a brawl, !or now, these hot days, is the ad blood stirring. (er. Thou art li#e one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a ta?ern, claps e his sword upon the table and says NGod send e no need of thee*N and by the operation of the second cup draws hi on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. 7en. 0 I li#e such a fellowU (er. $o e, co e, thou art as hot a jac# in thy ood as any in ItalyO and as soon o?ed to be oody, and as soon oody to be o?ed. 7en. 0nd what toU (er. )ay, an there were two such, we should ha?e none shortly, for one would #ill the other. Thou* why, thou wilt Ruarrel with a an that hath a hair ore or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt Ruarrel with a an for crac#ing nuts, ha?ing no other reason but because thou hast haDel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a RuarrelU Thy head is as full of Ruarrels as an egg is full of eatO and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for Ruarrelling. Thou hast RuarrellNd with a an for coughing in the street, because he hath wa#ened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. %idst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with another for tying his new shoes with an old ribandU 0nd yet thou wilt tutor e fro Ruarrelling* 7en. 0n I were so apt to Ruarrel as thou art, any an should buy the fee si ple of y life for an hour and a Ruarter. (er. The fee si pleU ' si ple* Enter Tybalt and others. 7en. 7y y head, here co e the $apulets. (er. 7y y heel, I care not. Tyb. !ollow e close, for I will spea# to the . Gentle en, good den. 0 word with one of you. (er. 0nd but one word with one of usU $ouple it with so ethingO a#e it a word and a blow. Tyb. 1ou shall find e apt enough to that, sir, an you will gi?e e occasion. (er. $ould you not ta#e so e occasion without gi?ing Tyb. (ercutio, thou consortest with &o eo. (er. $onsortU What, dost thou a#e us instrelsU 0n thou a#e instrels of us, loo# to hear nothing but discords. -ereNs y fiddlestic#O hereNs that shall a#e you dance. Vounds, consort*
7en. We tal# here in the public haunt of en. Either withdraw unto so e pri?ate place 0nd reason coldly of your grie?ances, 'r else depart. -ere all eyes gaDe on us. (er. (enNs eyes were ade to loo#, and let the I will not budge for no anNs pleasure, Enter &o eo.
Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. -ere co es y an. (er. 7ut INll be hangNd, sir, if he wear your li?ery. (arry, go before to field, heNll be your follower* 1our worship in that sense ay call hi an. Tyb. &o eo, the lo?e I bear thee can afford )o better ter than thisE thou art a ?illain. &o . Tybalt, the reason that I ha?e to lo?e thee %oth uch excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting. .illain a I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou #nowest e not. Tyb. 7oy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done eO therefore turn and draw. &o . I do protest I ne?er injurNd thee, 7ut lo?e thee better than thou canst de?ise Till thou shalt #now the reason of y lo?eO 0nd so good $apulet, which na e I tender 0s dearly as ine own, be satisfied. (er. ' cal , dishonourable, ?ile sub ission* 0lla stoccata carries it away. @%raws.B Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you wal#U Tyb. What wouldst thou ha?e with eU (er. Good /ing of $ats, nothing but one of your nine li?es. That I ean to a#e bold withal, and, as you shall use e hereafter, of dry5beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluc# your sword out
his pitcher by the earsU (a#e haste, lest ine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I a for you. @%raws.B &o . Gentle (ercutio, put thy rapier up. (er. $o e, sir, your passado* @They fight.B &o . %raw, 7en?olioO beat down their weapons. Gentle en, for sha e* forbear this outrage* Tybalt, (ercutio, the Prince expressly hath !orbid this bandying in .erona streets. -old, Tybalt* Good (ercutio* Tybalt under &o eoNs ar thrusts (ercutio in, and flies @with his !ollowersB. (er. I a hurt. 0 plague oN both your houses* I a sped. Is he gone and hath nothingU 7en. What, art thou hurtU (er. 0y, ay, a scratch, a scratch. (arry, Ntis enough. Where is y pageU Go, ?illain, fetch a surgeon. @Exit Page.B &o . $ourage, an. The hurt cannot be uch. (er. )o, Ntis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church doorO but Ntis enough, Ntwill ser?e. 0s# for e to5 orrow, and you shall find e a gra?e an. I a peppered, I warrant, for this world. 0 plague oN both your houses* Vounds, a dog, a rat, a ouse, a cat, to scratch a an to death* a braggart, a rogue, a ?illain, that fights by the boo# of arith etic* Why the de?il
ca e you between usU I was hurt under your ar . &o . I thought all for the best. (er. -elp e into so e house, 7en?olio, 'r I shall faint. 0 plague oN both your houses* They ha?e ade wor sN eat of e. I ha?e it, 0nd soundly too. 1our houses* @Exit. @supported by 7en?olioB. &o . This gentle an, the PrinceNs near ally, (y ?ery friend, hath got this ortal hurt In y behalf5 y reputation stainNd With TybaltNs slander5 Tybalt, that an hour -ath been y #ins an. ' sweet 8uliet, Thy beauty hath ade e effe inate 0nd in y te per softNned ?alourNs steel Enter 7en?olio. 7en. ' &o eo, &o eo, bra?e (ercutioNs dead* That gallant spirit hath aspirNd the clouds, Which too unti ely here did scorn the earth. &o . This dayNs blac# fate on oe days doth dependO This but begins the woe others ust end. Enter Tybalt. 7en. -ere co es the furious Tybalt bac# again. &o . 0li?e in triu ph, and (ercutio slainU 0way to hea?en respecti?e lenity, 0nd fire5eyNd fury be y conduct now* )ow, Tybalt, ta#e the N?illainN bac# again That late thou ga?est eO for (ercutioNs soul Is but a little way abo?e our heads, "taying for thine to #eep hi co pany. Either thou or I, or both, ust go with hi . Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort hi here, "halt with hi hence. &o . This shall deter ine that. They fight. Tybalt falls. 7en. &o eo, away, be gone* The citiDens are up, and Tybalt slain. "tand not a aDNd. The Prince will doo thee death If thou art ta#en. -ence, be gone, away* &o . ', I a fortuneNs fool* 7en. Why dost thou stayU Exit &o eo. Enter $itiDens. $itiDen. Which way ran he that #illNd (ercutioU Tybalt, that urtherer, which way ran heU 7en. There lies that Tybalt. $itiDen. 9p, sir, go with e. I charge thee in the PrinceNs na e obey. Enter Prince @attendedB, 'ld (ontague, $apulet, their Wi?es, and @othersB. Prince. Where are the ?ile beginners of this frayU 7en. ' noble Prince. I can disco?er all The unluc#y anage of this fatal brawl. There lies the an, slain by young &o eo, That slew thy #ins an, bra?e (ercutio. $ap. Wife. Tybalt, y cousin* ' y brotherNs child* ' Prince* ' husband* ', the blood is spillNd 'f y dear #ins an* Prince, as thou art true, !or blood of ours shed blood of (ontague. ' cousin, cousin*
Prince. 7en?olio, who began this bloody frayU 7en. Tybalt, here slain, who &o eoNs hand did stay. &o eo, that spo#e hi fair, bid hi bethin# -ow nice the Ruarrel was, and urgNd withal 1our high displeasure. 0ll this5 uttered With gentle breath, cal loo#, #nees hu bly bowNd5 $ould not ta#e truce with the unruly spleen 'f Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold (ercutioNs breastO Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, 0nd, with a artial scorn, with one hand beats $old death aside and with the other sends It bac# to Tybalt, whose dexterity &etorts it. &o eo he cries aloud, N-old, friends* friends, part*N and swifter than his tongue, -is agile ar beats down their fatal points, 0nd Ntwixt the rushesO underneath whose ar 0n en?ious thrust fro Tybalt hit the life 'f stout (ercutio, and then Tybalt fledO 7ut by5and5by co es bac# to &o eo, Who had but newly entertainNd re?enge, 0nd toNt they go li#e lightningO for, ere I $ould draw to part the , was stout Tybalt slainO 0nd, as he fell, did &o eo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let 7en?olio die. $ap. Wife. -e is a #ins an to the (ontagueO 0ffection a#es hi false, he spea#s not true. "o e twenty of the fought in this blac# strife, 0nd all those twenty could but #ill one life. I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, ust gi?e. &o eo slew TybaltO &o eo ust not li?e. Prince. &o eo slew hi O he slew (ercutio. Who now the price of his dear blood doth oweU (on. )ot &o eo, PrinceO he was (ercutioNs friendO -is fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt. Prince. 0nd for that offence I ediately we do exile hi hence. I ha?e an interest in your hateNs proceeding, (y blood for your rude brawls doth lie a5bleedingO 7ut INll a erce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of ine. I will be deaf to pleading and excusesO )or tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses. Therefore use none. Let &o eo hence in haste, Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. 7ear hence this body, and attend our will. (ercy but urders, pardoning those that #ill. Exeunt.
"cene II. $apuletNs orchard. Enter 8uliet alone. 8ul. Gallop apace, you fiery5footed steeds, Towards PhoebusN lodging* "uch a wagoner 0s Phaeton would whip you to the West 0nd bring in cloudy night i ediately. "pread thy close curtain, lo?e5perfor ing night, That runaway eyes ay win#, and &o eo Leap to these ar s untal#Nd of and unseen. Lo?ers can see to do their a orous rites
7y their own beautiesO or, if lo?e be blind, It best agrees with night. $o e, ci?il night, Thou sober5suited atron, all in blac#, 0nd learn e how to lose a winning atch, PlayNd for a pair of stainless aidenhoods. -ood y un annNd blood, bating in y chee#s, With thy blac# antle till strange lo?e, grown bold, Thin# true lo?e acted si ple odesty. $o e, nightO co e, &o eoO co e, thou day in nightO !or thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a ra?enNs bac#. $o e, gentle nightO co e, lo?ing, blac#5browNd nightO Gi?e e y &o eoO and, when he shall die, Ta#e hi and cut hi out in little stars, 0nd he will a#e the face of hea?en so fine That all the world will be in lo?e with night 0nd pay no worship to the garish sun. ', I ha?e bought the ansion of a lo?e, 7ut not possessNd itO and though I a sold, )ot yet enjoyNd. "o tedious is this day 0s is the night before so e festi?al To an i patient child that hath new robes 0nd ay not wear the . ', here co es y nurse, Enter )urse, with cords. 0nd she brings newsO and e?ery tongue that spea#s 7ut &o eoNs na e spea#s hea?enly eloRuence. )ow, nurse, what newsU What hast thou thereU the cords That &o eo bid thee fetchU )urse. 0y, ay, the cords. @Throws the down.B 8ul. 0y e* what newsU Why dost thou wring thy hands )urse. 0h, weraday* heNs dead, heNs dead, heNs dead* We are undone, lady, we are undone* 0lac# the day* heNs gone, heNs #illNd, heNs dead* 8ul. $an hea?en be so en?iousU )urse. &o eo can, Though hea?en cannot. ' &o eo, &o eo* Who e?er would ha?e thought itU &o eo* 8ul. What de?il art thou that dost tor ent e thusU This torture should be roarNd in dis al hell. -ath &o eo slain hi selfU "ay thou but NI,N 0nd that bare ?owel NIN shall poison ore Than the death5darting eye of coc#atrice. I a not I, if there be such an NINO 'r those eyes shut that a#e thee answer NI.N If be be slain, say NINO or if not, Nno.N 7rief sounds deter ine of y weal or woe. )urse. I saw the wound, I saw it with ine eyes, :God sa?e the ar#*; here on his anly breast. 0 piteous corse, a bloody piteous corseO Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubNd in blood, 0ll in gore5blood. I swounded at the sight. 8ul. ', brea#, y heart* poor ban#rout, brea# at once* To prison, eyesO neNer loo# on liberty* .ile earth, to earth resignO end otion here, 0nd thou and &o eo press one hea?y bier* )urse. ' Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had* ' courteous Tybalt* honest gentle an That e?er I should li?e to see thee dead* 8ul. What stor is this that blows so contraryU Is &o eo slaughtNred, and is Tybalt deadU (y dear5lo?Nd cousin, and y dearer lordU Then, dreadful tru pet, sound the general doo * !or who is li?ing, if those two are goneU
)urse. Tybalt is gone, and &o eo banishedO &o eo that #illNd hi , he is banished. 8ul. ' God* %id &o eoNs hand shed TybaltNs bloodU )urse. It did, it did* alas the day, it did* 8ul. ' serpent heart, hid with a flowNring face* %id e?er dragon #eep so fair a ca?eU 7eautiful tyrant* fiend angelical* %o?e5featherNd ra?en* wol?ish5ra?ening la b* %espised substance of di?inest show* 8ust opposite to what thou justly see Nst5 0 da ned saint, an honourable ?illain* ' nature, what hadst thou to do in hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In ortal paradise of such sweet fleshU Was e?er boo# containing such ?ile atter "o fairly boundU ', that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace* )urse. ThereNs no trust, )o faith, no honesty in enO all perjurNd, 0ll forsworn, all naught, all disse blers. 0h, whereNs y anU Gi?e e so e aRua ?itae. These griefs, these woes, these sorrows a#e e old. "ha e co e to &o eo* 8ul. 7listerNd be thy tongue !or such a wish* -e was not born to sha e. 9pon his brow sha e is asha Nd to sitO !or Ntis a throne where honour ay be crownNd "ole onarch of the uni?ersal earth. ', what a beast was I to chide at hi * )urse. Will you spea# well of hi that #illNd your cousinU 8ul. "hall I spea# ill of hi that is y husbandU 0h, poor y lord, what tongue shall s ooth thy na e When I, thy three5hours wife, ha?e angled itU 7ut wherefore, ?illain, didst thou #ill y cousinU That ?illain cousin would ha?e #illNd y husband. 7ac#, foolish tears, bac# to your nati?e spring* 1our tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, ista#ing, offer up to joy. (y husband li?es, that Tybalt would ha?e slainO 0nd TybaltNs dead, that would ha?e slain y husband. 0ll this is co fortO wherefore weep I thenU "o e word there was, worser than TybaltNs death, That urdNred e. I would forget it fainO 7ut ', it presses to y e ory Li#e da ned guilty deeds to sinnersN inds* NTybalt is dead, and &o eo5 banished.N That Nbanished,N that one word Nbanished,N -ath slain ten thousand Tybalts. TybaltNs death Was woe enough, if it had ended thereO 'r, if sour woe delights in fellowship 0nd needly will be ran#Nd with other griefs, Why followed not, when she said NTybaltNs dead,N Thy father, or thy other, nay, or both, Which odern la entation ight ha?e o?NdU 7ut with a rearward following TybaltNs death, N&o eo is banishedN5 to spea# that word Is father, other, Tybalt, &o eo, 8uliet, 0ll slain, all dead. N&o eo is banishedN5 There is no end, no li it, easure, bound, In that wordNs deathO no words can that woe sound. Where is y father and y other, nurseU )urse. Weeping and wailing o?er TybaltNs corse. Will you go to the U I will bring you thither. 8ul. Wash they his wounds with tearsU (ine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for &o eoNs banish ent. Ta#e up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguilNd,
7oth you and I, for &o eo is exilNd. -e ade you for a highway to y bedO 7ut I, a aid, die aiden5widowed. $o e, cordsO co e, nurse. INll to y wedding bedO 0nd death, not &o eo, ta#e y aidenhead* )urse. -ie to your cha ber. INll find &o eo To co fort you. I wot well where he is. -ar# ye, your &o eo will be here at night. INll to hi O he is hid at LaurenceN cell. 8ul. ', find hi * gi?e this ring to y true #night 0nd bid hi co e to ta#e his last farewell. Exeunt.
"cene III. !riar LaurenceNs cell. Enter !riar @LaurenceB. !riar. &o eo, co e forthO co e forth, thou fearful 0ffliction is enan ourNd of thy parts, 0nd thou art wedded to cala ity. Enter &o eo. &o . !ather, what newsU What is the PrinceNs doo What sorrow cra?es acRuaintance at y hand That I yet #now notU !riar. Too fa iliar Is y dear son with such sour co pany. I bring thee tidings of the PrinceNs doo . &o . What less than doo sday is the PrinceNs doo U !riar. 0 gentler judg ent ?anishNd fro his lips5 )ot bodyNs death, but bodyNs banish ent. &o . -a, banish entU 7e erciful, say NdeathNO !or exile hath ore terror in his loo#, (uch ore than death. %o not say Nbanish ent.N !riar. -ence fro .erona art thou banished. 7e patient, for the world is broad and wide. &o . There is no world without .erona walls, 7ut purgatory, torture, hell itself. -ence banished is banishNd fro the world, 0nd worldNs exile is death. Then Nbanish entN Is death ister Nd. $alling death Nbanish ent,N Thou cutNst y head off with a golden axe 0nd s ilest upon the stro#e that urders e. !riar. ' deadly sin* ' rude unthan#fulness* Thy fault our law calls deathO but the #ind Prince, Ta#ing thy part, hath rushNd aside the law, 0nd turnNd that blac# word death to banish ent. This is dear ercy, and thou seest it not. &o . NTis torture, and not ercy. -ea?en is here, Where 8uliet li?esO and e?ery cat and dog 0nd little ouse, e?ery unworthy thing, Li?e here in hea?en and ay loo# on herO 7ut &o eo ay not. (ore ?alidity, (ore honourable state, ore courtship li?es In carrion flies than &o eo. They ay seiDe 'n the white wonder of dear 8ulietNs hand 0nd steal i ortal blessing fro her lips, Who, e?en in pure and ?estal odesty, "till blush, as thin#ing their own #isses sinO 7ut &o eo ay not5 he is banished. This ay flies do, when I fro this ust flyO an.
They are free en, but I a banished. 0nd sayest thou yet that exile is not deathU -adst thou no poison ixNd, no sharp5ground #nife, )o sudden ean of death, though neNer so ean, 7ut NbanishedN to #ill e5 NbanishedNU ' friar, the da ned use that word in hellO -owling attends it* -ow hast thou the heart, 7eing a di?ine, a ghostly confessor, 0 sin5absol?er, and y friend professNd, To angle e with that word NbanishedNU !riar. Thou fond ad an, hear e a little spea#. &o . ', thou wilt spea# again of banish ent. !riar. INll gi?e thee ar our to #eep off that wordO 0d?ersityNs sweet il#, philosophy, To co fort thee, though thou art banished. &o . 1et NbanishedNU -ang up philosophy* 9nless philosophy can a#e a 8uliet, %isplant a town, re?erse a princeNs doo , It helps not, it pre?ails not. Tal# no ore. !riar. ', then I see that ad en ha?e no ears. &o . -ow should they, when that wise en ha?e no eyesU !riar. Let e dispute with thee of thy estate. &o . Thou canst not spea# of that thou dost not feel. Wert thou as young as I, 8uliet thy lo?e, 0n hour but arried, Tybalt urdered, %oting li#e e, and li#e e banished, Then ightst thou spea#, then ightst thou tear thy hair, 0nd fall upon the ground, as I do now, Ta#ing the easure of an un ade gra?e. /noc# @withinB. !riar. 0riseO one #noc#s. Good &o eo, hide thyself. &o . )ot IO unless the breath of heartsic# groans, (ist5li#e infold e fro the search of eyes. /noc#. !riar. -ar#, how they #noc#* WhoNs thereU &o eo, ariseO Thou wilt be ta#en.5 "tay awhile*5 "tand upO /noc#. &un to y study.5 7y5and5by*5 GodNs will, What si pleness is this.5 I co e, I co e* /noc#. Who #noc#s so hardU Whence co e youU WhatNs your will )urse. @withinB Let e co e in, and you shall #now y errand. I co e fro Lady 8uliet. !riar. Welco e then. Enter )urse. )urse. ' holy friar, ', tell e, holy friar Where is y ladyNs lord, whereNs &o eoU !riar. There on the ground, with his own tears ade drun#. )urse. ', he is e?en in y istressN case, 8ust in her case* !riar. ' woeful sy pathy* Piteous predica ent* )urse. E?en so lies she, 7lubbNring and weeping, weeping and blubbering. "tand up, stand up* "tand, an you be a an. !or 8ulietNs sa#e, for her sa#e, rise and stand* Why should you fall into so deep an 'U &o . :rises; )urse5 )urse. 0h sir* ah sir* Well, deathNs the end of all. &o . "pa#est thou of 8ulietU -ow is it with herU %oth not she thin# e an old urtherer, )ow I ha?e stainNd the childhood of our joy With blood re o?Nd but little fro her ownU Where is sheU and how doth she* and what says (y concealNd lady to our cancellNd lo?eU )urse. ', she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weepsO 0nd now falls on her bed, and then starts up,
0nd Tybalt callsO and then on &o eo cries, 0nd then down falls again. &o . 0s if that na e, "hot fro the deadly le?el of a gun, %id urther herO as that na eNs cursed hand (urderNd her #ins an. ', tell e, friar, tell e, In what ?ile part of this anato y %oth y na e lodgeU Tell e, that I ay sac# The hateful ansion. @%raws his dagger.B !riar. -old thy desperate hand. 0rt thou a anU Thy for cries out thou artO Thy tears are wo anish, thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast. 9nsee ly wo an in a see ing an* 'r ill5besee ing beast in see ing both* Thou hast a aDNd e. 7y y holy order, I thought thy disposition better te perNd. -ast thou slain TybaltU Wilt thou slay thyselfU 0nd slay thy lady that in thy life li?es, 7y doing da ned hate upon thyselfU Why railest thou on thy birth, the hea?en, and earthU "ince birth and hea?en and earth, all three do eet In thee at onceO which thou at once wouldst lose. !ie, fie, thou sha est thy shape, thy lo?e, thy wit, Which, li#e a usurer, aboundNst in all, 0nd usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedec# thy shape, thy lo?e, thy wit. Thy noble shape is but a for of wax %igressing fro the ?alour of a anO Thy dear lo?e sworn but hollow perjury, /illing that lo?e which thou hast ?owNd to cherishO Thy wit, that orna ent to shape and lo?e, (isshapen in the conduct of the both, Li#e powder in a s#illess soldierNs flas#, is get afire by thine own ignorance, 0nd thou dis e bNred with thine own defence. What, rouse thee, an* Thy 8uliet is ali?e, !or whose dear sa#e thou wast but lately dead. There art thou happy. Tybalt would #ill thee, 7ut thou slewest Tybalt. There art thou happy too. The law, that threatNned death, beco es thy friend 0nd turns it to exile. There art thou happy. 0 pac# of blessings light upon thy bac#O -appiness courts thee in her best arrayO 7ut, li#e a isbha?Nd and sullen wench, Thou poutNst upon thy fortune and thy lo?e. Ta#e heed, ta#e heed, for such die iserable. Go get thee to thy lo?e, as was decreed, 0scend her cha ber, hence and co fort her. 7ut loo# thou stay not till the watch be set, !or then thou canst not pass to (antua, Where thou shalt li?e till we can find a ti e To blaDe your arriage, reconcile your friends, 7eg pardon of the Prince, and call thee bac# With twenty hundred thousand ti es ore joy Than thou wentNst forth in la entation. Go before, nurse. $o end e to thy lady, 0nd bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which hea?y sorrow a#es the apt unto. &o eo is co ing. )urse. ' Lord, I could ha?e stayNd here all the night To hear good counsel. ', what learning is* (y lord, INll tell y lady you will co e. &o . %o so, and bid y sweet prepare to chide. )urse. -ere is a ring she bid e gi?e you, sir. -ie you, a#e haste, for it grows ?ery late. Exit.
&o . -ow well y co fort is re?i?Nd by this* !riar. Go henceO good nightO and here stands all your stateE Either be gone before the watch be set, 'r by the brea# of day disguisNd fro hence. "ojourn in (antua. INll find out your an, 0nd he shall signify fro ti e to ti e E?ery good hap to you that chances here. Gi?e e thy hand. NTis late. !arewellO good night. &o . 7ut that a joy past joy calls out on e, It were a grief so brief to part with thee. !arewell. Exeunt.
"cene I.. $apuletNs house Enter 'ld $apulet, his Wife, and Paris. $ap. Things ha?e fallNn out, sir, so unluc#ily That we ha?e had no ti e to o?e our daughter. Loo# you, she lo?Nd her #ins an Tybalt dearly, 0nd so did I. Well, we were born to die. NTis ?ery lateO sheNll not co e down to5night. I pro ise you, but for your co pany, I would ha?e been abed an hour ago. Par. These ti es of woe afford no tune to woo. (ada , good night. $o end e to your daughter. Lady. I will, and #now her ind early to5 orrowO To5night sheNs ewNd up to her hea?iness. $ap. "ir Paris, I will a#e a desperate tender 'f y childNs lo?e. I thin# she will be rulNd In all respects by eO nay ore, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bedO 0cRuaint her here of y son ParisN lo?e 0nd bid her : ar# you eU; on Wednesday next5 7ut, soft* what day is thisU Par. (onday, y lord. $ap. (onday* ha, ha* Well, Wednesday is too soon. Thursday let it be5 a Thursday, tell her "he shall be arried to this noble earl. Will you be readyU %o you li#e this hasteU WeNll #eep no great ado5 a friend or twoO !or har# you, Tybalt being slain so late, It ay be thought we held hi carelessly, 7eing our #ins an, if we re?el uch. Therefore weNll ha?e so e half a doDen friends, 0nd there an end. 7ut what say you to ThursdayU Par. (y lord, I would that Thursday were to5 orrow. $ap. Well, get you gone. 0 Thursday be it then. Go you to 8uliet ere you go to bedO Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. !arewell, (y lord.5 Light to y cha ber, ho* 0fore e, It is so ?ery ?ery late That we ay call it early by5and5by. Good night. Exeunt
"cene .. $apuletNs orchard.
Enter &o eo and 8uliet aloft, at the Window. 8ul. Wilt thou be goneU It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lar#, That piercNd the fearful hollow of thine ear. )ightly she sings on yond po egranate tree. 7elie?e e, lo?e, it was the nightingale. &o . It was the lar#, the herald of the ornO )o nightingale. Loo#, lo?e, what en?ious strea#s %o lace the se?ering clouds in yonder East. )ightNs candles are burnt out, and jocund day "tands tiptoe on the isty ountain tops. I ust be gone and li?e, or stay and die. 8ul. 1ond light is not daylightO I #now it, I. It is so e eteor that the sun exhales To be to thee this night a torchbearer 0nd light thee on the way to (antua. Therefore stay yetO thou needNst not to be gone. &o . Let e be taNen, let e be put to death. I a content, so thou wilt ha?e it so. INll say yon grey is not the orningNs eye, NTis but the pale reflex of $ynthiaNs browO )or that is not the lar# whose notes do beat The ?aulty hea?en so high abo?e our heads. I ha?e ore care to stay than will to go. $o e, death, and welco e* 8uliet wills it so. -ow isNt, y soulU LetNs tal#O it is not day. 8ul. It is, it is* -ie hence, be gone, away* It is the lar# that sings so out of tune, "training harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. "o e say the lar# a#es sweet di?isionO This doth not so, for she di?ideth us. "o e say the lar# and loathed toad changNd eyesO ', now I would they had changNd ?oices too, "ince ar fro ar that ?oice doth us affray, -unting thee hence with huntNs5up to the day* ', now be gone* (ore light and light it grows. &o . (ore light and light5 ore dar# and dar# our woes* Enter )urse. )urse. (ada * 8ul. )urseU )urse. 1our lady other is co ing to your cha ber. The day is bro#eO be wary, loo# about. 8ul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. @Exit.B &o . !arewell, farewell* 'ne #iss, and INll descend. -e goeth down. 8ul. 0rt thou gone so, y lord, y lo?e, y friendU I ust hear fro thee e?ery day in the hour, !or in a inute there are any days. ', by this count I shall be uch in years Ere I again behold y &o eo* &o . !arewell* I will o it no opportunity That ay con?ey y greetings, lo?e, to thee. 8ul. ', thin#Nst thou we shall e?er eet againU &o . I doubt it notO and all these woes shall ser?e !or sweet discourses in our ti e to co e. 8ul. ' God, I ha?e an ill5di?ining soul* (ethin#s I see thee, now thou art below, 0s one dead in the botto of a to b. Either y eyesight fails, or thou loo#Nst pale. &o . 0nd trust e, lo?e, in y eye so do you. %ry sorrow drin#s our blood. 0dieu, adieu*
Exit. 8ul. ' !ortune, !ortune* all en call thee fic#le. If thou art fic#le, what dost thou with hi That is renownNd for faithU 7e fic#le, !ortune, !or then I hope thou wilt not #eep hi long 7ut send hi bac#. Lady. @withinB -o, daughter* are you upU 8ul. Who isNt that callsU It is y lady other. Is she not down so late, or up so earlyU What unaccusto Nd cause procures her hitherU Enter (other. Lady. Why, how now, 8ulietU 8ul. (ada , I a not well. Lady. E?er ore weeping for your cousinNs deathU What, wilt thou wash hi fro his gra?e with tearsU 0n if thou couldst, thou couldst not a#e hi li?e. Therefore ha?e done. "o e grief shows uch of lo?eO 7ut uch of grief shows still so e want of wit. 8ul. 1et let e weep for such a feeling loss. Lady. "o shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for. 8ul. !eeling so the loss, I cannot choose but e?er weep the friend. Lady. Well, girl, thou weepNst not so uch for his death 0s that the ?illain li?es which slaughterNd hi . 8ul. What ?illain, ada U Lady. That sa e ?illain &o eo. 8ul. @asideB .illain and he be any iles asunder.5 God pardon hi * I do, with all y heartO 0nd yet no an li#e he doth grie?e y heart. Lady. That is because the traitor urderer li?es. 8ul. 0y, ada , fro the reach of these y hands. Would none but I ight ?enge y cousinNs death* Lady. We will ha?e ?engeance for it, fear thou not. Then weep no ore. INll send to one in (antua, Where that sa e banishNd runagate doth li?e, "hall gi?e hi such an unaccusto Nd dra That he shall soon #eep Tybalt co panyO 0nd then I hope thou wilt be satisfied. 8ul. Indeed I ne?er shall be satisfied With &o eo till I behold hi 5 dead5 Is y poor heart so for a #ins an ?exNd. (ada , if you could find out but a an To bear a poison, I would te per itO That &o eo should, upon receipt thereof, "oon sleep in Ruiet. ', how y heart abhors To hear hi na Nd and cannot co e to hi , To wrea# the lo?e I bore y cousin Tybalt 9pon his body that hath slaughterNd hi * Lady. !ind thou the eans, and INll find such a an. 7ut now INll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. 8ul. 0nd joy co es well in such a needy ti e. What are they, I beseech your ladyshipU Lady. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, childO 'ne who, to put thee fro thy hea?iness, -ath sorted out a sudden day of joy That thou expects not nor I loo#Nd not for. 8ul. (ada , in happy ti e* What day is thatU Lady. (arry, y child, early next Thursday orn The gallant, young, and noble gentle an, The $ounty Paris, at "aint PeterNs $hurch, "hall happily a#e thee there a joyful bride. 8ul. )ow by "aint PeterNs $hurch, and Peter too, -e shall not a#e e there a joyful bride*
I wonder at this haste, that I ust wed Ere he that should be husband co es to woo. I pray you tell y lord and father, ada , I will not arry yetO and when I do, I swear It shall be &o eo, who you #now I hate, &ather than Paris. These are news indeed* Lady. -ere co es your father. Tell hi so yourself, 0nd see how be will ta#e it at your hands. Enter $apulet and )urse. $ap. When the sun sets the air doth driDDle dew, 7ut for the sunset of y brotherNs son It rains downright. -ow nowU a conduit, girlU What, still in tearsU E?er ore showNringU In one little body Thou counterfeitNst a bar#, a sea, a windE !or still thy eyes, which I ay call the sea, %o ebb and flow with tearsO the bar# thy body is "ailing in this salt floodO the winds, thy sighs, Who, raging with thy tears and they with the , Without a sudden cal will o?erset Thy te pest5tossed body. -ow now, wifeU -a?e you deli?ered to her our decreeU Lady. 0y, sirO but she will none, she gi?es you than#s. I would the fool were arried to her gra?e* $ap. "oft* ta#e e with you, ta#e e with you, wife. -owU Will she noneU %oth she not gi?e us than#sU Is she not proudU %oth she not count her blest, 9nworthy as she is, that we ha?e wrought "o worthy a gentle an to be her bridegroo U 8ul. )ot proud you ha?e, but than#ful that you ha?e. Proud can I ne?er be of what I hate, 7ut than#ful e?en for hate that is eant lo?e. $ap. -ow, how, how, how, choplogicU What is thisU NProudN5 and NI than# youN5 and NI than# you notN5 0nd yet Nnot proudNU (istress inion you, Than# e no than#ings, nor proud e no prouds, 7ut fettle your fine joints Ngainst Thursday next To go with Paris to "aint PeterNs $hurch, 'r I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 'ut, you green5sic#ness carrion I out, you baggage* 1ou tallow5face* Lady. !ie, fie* what, are you adU 8ul. Good father, I beseech you on y #nees, -ear e with patience but to spea# a word. $ap. -ang thee, young baggage* disobedient wretch* I tell thee what5 get thee to church a Thursday 'r ne?er after loo# e in the face. "pea# not, reply not, do not answer e* (y fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest That God had lent us but this only childO 7ut now I see this one is one too uch, 0nd that we ha?e a curse in ha?ing her. 'ut on her, hilding* )urse. God in hea?en bless her* 1ou are to bla e, y lord, to rate her so. $ap. 0nd why, y Lady Wisdo U -old your tongue, Good Prudence. " atter with your gossips, go* )urse. I spea# no treason. $ap. ', God5i5god5en* )urse. (ay not one spea#U $ap. Peace, you u bling fool* 9tter your gra?ity oNer a gossipNs bowl, !or here we need it not. Lady. 1ou are too hot.
$ap. GodNs bread I it a#es e ad. %ay, night, late, early, 0t ho e, abroad, alone, in co pany, Wa#ing or sleeping, still y care hath been To ha?e her atchNdO and ha?ing now pro?ided 0 gentle an of princely parentage, 'f fair de esnes, youthful, and nobly trainNd, "tuffNd, as they say, with honourable parts, ProportionNd as oneNs thought would wish a an5 0nd then to ha?e a wretched puling fool, 0 whining a et, in her fortuneNs tender, To answer NINll not wed, I cannot lo?eO I a too young, I pray you pardon eN* 7ut, an you will not wed, INll pardon you. GraDe where you will, you shall not house with e. Loo# toNt, thin# onNtO I do not use to jest. Thursday is nearO lay hand on heart, ad?iseE 0n you be ine, INll gi?e you to y friendO 0n you be not, hang, beg, star?e, die in the streets, !or, by y soul, INll neNer ac#nowledge thee, )or what is ine shall ne?er do thee good. Trust toNt. 7ethin# you. INll not be forsworn. Exit. 8ul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the botto of y griefU ' sweet y other, cast e not away* %elay this arriage for a onth, a wee#O 'r if you do not, a#e the bridal bed In that di onu ent where Tybalt lies. Lady. Tal# not to e, for INll not spea# a word. %o as thou wilt, for I ha?e done with thee. Exit. 8ul. ' God*5 ' nurse, how shall this be pre?entedU (y husband is on earth, y faith in hea?en. -ow shall that faith return again to earth 9nless that husband send it e fro hea?en 7y lea?ing earthU $o fort e, counsel e. 0lac#, alac#, that hea?en should practise stratage s 9pon so soft a subject as yself* What sayNst thouU -ast thou not a word of joyU "o e co fort, nurse. )urse. !aith, here it is. &o eo is banishNdO and all the world to nothing That he dares neNer co e bac# to challenge youO 'r if he do, it needs ust be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I thin# it best you arried with the $ounty. ', heNs a lo?ely gentle an* &o eoNs a dishclout to hi . 0n eagle, ada , -ath not so green, so Ruic#, so fair an eye 0s Paris hath. 7eshrew y ?ery heart, I thin# you are happy in this second atch, !or it excels your firstO or if it did not, 1our first is dead5 or Ntwere as good he were 0s li?ing here and you no use of hi . 8ul. "pea#Nst thou this fro thy heartU )urse. 0nd fro y soul tooO else beshrew the both. 8ul. 0 en* )urse. WhatU 8ul. Well, thou hast co forted e ar?ellous uch. Go inO and tell y lady I a gone, -a?ing displeasNd y father, to LaurenceN cell, To a#e confession and to be absol?Nd. )urse. (arry, I willO and this is wisely done. Exit. 8ul. 0ncient da nation* ' ost wic#ed fiend* Is it ore sin to wish e thus forsworn, 'r to dispraise y lord with that sa e tongue Which she hath praisNd hi with abo?e co pare "o any thousand ti esU Go, counsellor*
Thou and y boso henceforth shall be twain. INll to the friar to #now his re edy. If all else fail, yself ha?e power to die. Exit.
0$T I.. "cene I. !riar LaurenceNs cell. Enter !riar, @LaurenceB and $ounty Paris. !riar. 'n Thursday, sirU The ti e is ?ery short. Par. (y father $apulet will ha?e it so, 0nd I a nothing slow to slac# his haste. !riar. 1ou say you do not #now the ladyNs ind. 9ne?en is the courseO I li#e it not. Par. I oderately she weeps for TybaltNs death, 0nd therefore ha?e I little tal#Nd of lo?eO !or .enus s iles not in a house of tears. )ow, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she do gi?e her sorrow so uch sway, 0nd in his wisdo hastes our arriage To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too uch inded by herself alone, (ay be put fro her by society. )ow do you #now the reason of this haste. !riar. @asideB I would I #new not why it should be slowNd.5 Loo#, sir, here co es the lady toward y cell. Enter 8uliet. Par. -appily et, y lady and y wife* 8ul. That ay be, sir, when I ay be a wife. Par. That ay be ust be, lo?e, on Thursday next. 8ul. What ust be shall be. !riar. ThatNs a certain text. Par. $o e you to a#e confession to this fatherU 8ul. To answer that, I should confess to you. Par. %o not deny to hi that you lo?e e. 8ul. I will confess to you that I lo?e hi . Par. "o will ye, I a sure, that you lo?e e. 8ul. If I do so, it will be of ore price, 7eing spo#e behind your bac#, than to your face. Par. Poor soul, thy face is uch abusNd with tears. 8ul. The tears ha?e got s all ?ictory by that, !or it was bad enough before their spite. Par. Thou wrongNst it ore than tears with that report. 8ul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truthO 0nd what I spa#e, I spa#e it to y face. Par. Thy face is ine, and thou hast slandNred it. 8ul. It ay be so, for it is not ine own. 0re you at leisure, holy father, now, 'r shall I co e to you at e?ening ass !riar. (y leisure ser?es e, pensi?e daughter, now.
(y lord, we ust entreat the ti e alone. Par. God shield I should disturb de?otion* 8uliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye. Till then, adieu, and #eep this holy #iss. Exit. 8ul. ', shut the door* and when thou hast done so, $o e weep with e5 past hope, past cure, past help* !riar. 0h, 8uliet, I already #now thy griefO It strains e past the co pass of y wits. I hear thou ust, and nothing ay prorogue it, 'n Thursday next be arried to this $ounty. 8ul. Tell e not, friar, that thou hearNst of this, 9nless thou tell e how I ay pre?ent it. If in thy wisdo thou canst gi?e no help, %o thou but call y resolution wise 0nd with this #nife INll help it presently. God joinNd y heart and &o eoNs, thou our handsO 0nd ere this hand, by thee to &o eoNs sealNd, "hall be the label to another deed, 'r y true heart with treacherous re?olt Turn to another, this shall slay the both. Therefore, out of thy long5experiencNd ti e, Gi?e e so e present counselO or, behold, NTwixt y extre es and e this bloody #nife "hall play the e pire, arbitrating that Which the co ission of thy years and art $ould to no issue of true honour bring. 7e not so long to spea#. I long to die If what thou spea#Nst spea# not of re edy. !riar. -old, daughter. I do spy a #ind of hope, Which cra?es as desperate an execution 0s that is desperate which we would pre?ent. If, rather than to arry $ounty Paris Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, Then is it li#ely thou wilt underta#e 0 thing li#e death to chide away this sha e, That copNst with death hi self to scape fro itO 0nd, if thou darNst, INll gi?e thee re edy. 8ul. ', bid e leap, rather than arry Paris, !ro off the battle ents of yonder tower, 'r wal# in thie?ish ways, or bid e lur# Where serpents areO chain e with roaring bears, 'r shut e nightly in a charnel house, 'Nerco?erNd Ruite with dead enNs rattling bones, With ree#y shan#s and yellow chapless s#ullsO 'r bid e go into a new5 ade gra?e 0nd hide e with a dead an in his shroud5 Things that, to hear the told, ha?e ade e tre ble5 0nd I will do it without fear or doubt, To li?e an unstainNd wife to y sweet lo?e. !riar. -old, then. Go ho e, be erry, gi?e consent To arry Paris. Wednesday is to5 orrow. To5 orrow night loo# that thou lie aloneO Let not the nurse lie with thee in thy cha ber. Ta#e thou this ?ial, being then in bed, 0nd this distilled liRuor drin# thou offO When presently through all thy ?eins shall run 0 cold and drowsy hu ourO for no pulse "hall #eep his nati?e progress, but surceaseO )o war th, no breath, shall testify thou li?estO The roses in thy lips and chee#s shall fade To paly ashes, thy eyesN windows fall Li#e death when he shuts up the day of lifeO Each part, depri?Nd of supple go?ern ent, "hall, stiff and star# and cold, appear li#e deathO 0nd in this borrowed li#eness of shrun# death Thou shalt continue two5and5forty hours,
0nd then awa#e as fro a pleasant sleep. )ow, when the bridegroo in the orning co es To rouse thee fro thy bed, there art thou dead. Then, as the anner of our country is, In thy best robes unco?ered on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that sa e ancient ?ault Where all the #indred of the $apulets lie. In the ean ti e, against thou shalt awa#e, "hall &o eo by y letters #now our driftO 0nd hither shall he co eO and he and I Will watch thy wa#ing, and that ?ery night "hall &o eo bear thee hence to (antua. 0nd this shall free thee fro this present sha e, If no inconstant toy nor wo anish fear 0bate thy ?alour in the acting it. 8ul. Gi?e e, gi?e e* ', tell not e of fear* !riar. -old* Get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resol?e. INll send a friar with speed To (antua, with y letters to thy lord. 8ul. Lo?e gi?e e strength* and strength shall help afford. !arewell, dear father. Exeunt.
"cene II. $apuletNs house. Enter !ather $apulet, (other, )urse, and "er?ing en, two or three. any guests in?ite as here are writ. @Exit a "er?ing an.B "irrah, go hire e twenty cunning coo#s. "er?. 1ou shall ha?e none ill, sirO for INll try if they can lic# their fingers. $ap. -ow canst thou try the soU "er?. (arry, sir, Ntis an ill coo# that cannot lic# his own fingers. Therefore he that cannot lic# his fingers goes not with e. $ap. Go, begone. Exit "er?ing an. We shall be uch unfurnishNd for this ti e. What, is y daughter gone to !riar LaurenceU )urse. 0y, forsooth. $ap. Well, be ay chance to do so e good on her. 0 pee?ish self5willNd harlotry it is. Enter 8uliet. )urse. "ee where she co es fro shrift with erry loo#. $ap. -ow now, y headstrongU Where ha?e you been gaddingU 8ul. Where I ha?e learnt e to repent the sin 'f disobedient opposition To you and your behests, and a enjoinNd 7y holy Laurence to fall prostrate here To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you* -enceforward I a e?er rulNd by you. $ap. "end for the $ounty. Go tell hi of this. INll ha?e this #not #nit up to5 orrow orning. 8ul. I et the youthful lord at LaurenceN cell 0nd ga?e hi what beco ed lo?e I ight, )ot stepping oNer the bounds of odesty. $ap. "o
$ap. Why, I a glad onNt. This is well. "tand up. This is asNt should be. Let e see the $ounty. 0y, arry, go, I say, and fetch hi hither. )ow, afore God, this re?erend holy friar, 0ll our whole city is uch bound to hi . 8ul. )urse, will you go with e into y closet To help e sort such needful orna ents 0s you thin# fit to furnish e to5 orrowU (other. )o, not till Thursday. There is ti e enough. $ap. Go, nurse, go with her. WeNll to church to5 orrow. Exeunt 8uliet and )urse. (other. We shall be short in our pro?ision. NTis now near night. $ap. Tush, I will stir about, 0nd all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. Go thou to 8uliet, help to dec# up her. INll not to bed to5nightO let e alone. INll play the housewife for this once. What, ho* They are all forthO well, I will wal# yself To $ounty Paris, to prepare hi up 0gainst to5 orrow. (y heart is wondrous light, "ince this sa e wayward girl is so reclai Nd. Exeunt.
"cene III. 8ulietNs cha ber. Enter 8uliet and )urse. 8ul. 0y, those attires are bestO but, gentle nurse, I pray thee lea?e e to yself to5nightO !or I ha?e need of any orisons To o?e the hea?ens to s ile upon y state, Which, well thou #nowest, is cross and full of sin. Enter (other. (other. What, are you busy, hoU )eed you y helpU 8ul. )o, ada O we ha?e cullNd such necessaries 0s are behooffull for our state to5 orrow. "o please you, let e now be left alone, 0nd let the nurse this night sit up with youO !or I a sure you ha?e your hands full all In this so sudden business. (other. Good night. Get thee to bed, and restO for thou hast need. Exeunt @(other and )urse.B 8ul. !arewell* God #nows when we shall eet again. I ha?e a faint cold fear thrills through y ?eins That al ost freeDes up the heat of life. INll call the bac# again to co fort e. )urse*5 What should she do hereU (y dis al scene I needs ust act alone. $o e, ?ial. What if this ixture do not wor# at allU "hall I be arried then to5 orrow orningU )o, )o* This shall forbid it. Lie thou there. Lays down a dagger. What if it be a poison which the friar "ubtilly hath inistNred to ha?e e dead, Lest in this arriage he should be dishonourNd 7ecause he arried e before to &o eoU I fear it isO and yet ethin#s it should not,
!or he hath still been tried a holy an. I will not entertain so bad a thought. -ow if, when I a laid into the to b, I wa#e before the ti e that &o eo $o e to redee eU ThereNs a fearful point* "hall I not then be stifled in the ?ault, To whose foul outh no healthso e air breathes in, 0nd there die strangled ere y &o eo co esU 'r, if I li?e, is it not ?ery li#e The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place5 0s in a ?ault, an ancient receptacle Where for this any hundred years the bones 'f all y buried ancestors are pac#NdO Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festNring in his shroudO where, as they say, 0t so e hours in the night spirits resort5 0lac#, alac#, is it not li#e that I, "o early wa#ing5 what with loathso e s ells, 0nd shrie#s li#e andra#es torn out of the earth, That li?ing ortals, hearing the , run ad5 ', if I wa#e, shall I not be distraught, En?ironed with all these hideous fears, 0nd adly play with y forefathersN joints, 0nd pluc# the angled Tybalt fro his shroud., 0nd, in this rage, with so e great #ins anNs bone 0s with a club dash out y despNrate brainsU ', loo#* ethin#s I see y cousinNs ghost "ee#ing out &o eo, that did spit his body 9pon a rapierNs point. "tay, Tybalt, stay* &o eo, I co e* this do I drin# to thee. "he @drin#s andB falls upon her bed within the curtains.
"cene I.. $apuletNs house. Enter Lady of the -ouse and )urse. Lady. -old, ta#e these #eys and fetch ore spices, nurse. )urse. They call for dates and Ruinces in the pastry. Enter 'ld $apulet. $ap. $o e, stir, stir, stir* The second coc# hath crowNd, The curfew bell hath rung, Ntis three oNcloc#. Loo# to the ba#Nd eats, good 0ngelicaO "pare not for cost. )urse. Go, you cot5Ruean, go, Get you to bed* !aith, youNll be sic# to5 orrow !or this nightNs watching. $ap. )o, not a whit. What, I ha?e watchNd ere now 0ll night for lesser cause, and neNer been sic#. Lady. 0y, you ha?e been a ouse5hunt in your ti eO 7ut I will watch you fro such watching now. Exeunt Lady and )urse. $ap. 0 jealous hood, a jealous hood* Enter three or four @!ellows, with spits and logs and bas#ets. What is thereU )ow, fellow, !ellow. Things for the coo#, sirO but I #now not what. $ap. (a#e haste, a#e haste. @Exit !ellow.B "irrah, fetch drier
logs. $all PeterO he will show thee where they are. !ellow. I ha?e a head, sir, that will find out logs 0nd ne?er trouble Peter for the atter. $ap. (ass, and well saidO a erry whoreson, ha* Thou shalt be loggerhead. @Exit !ellow.B Good faith, Ntis day. The $ounty will be here with usic straight, !or so he said he would. Play usic. I hear hi near. )urse* Wife* What, ho* What, nurse, I say* Enter )urse. Go wa#en 8ulietO go and tri her up. INll go and chat with Paris. -ie, a#e haste, (a#e haste* The bridegroo he is co e alreadyE (a#e haste, I say. @Exeunt.B
"cene .. 8ulietNs cha ber. @Enter )urse.B )urse. (istress* what, istress* 8uliet* !ast, I warrant her, she. Why, la b* why, lady* !ie, you slug5abed* Why, lo?e, I say* ada * sweetheart* Why, bride* What, not a wordU 1ou ta#e your pennyworths now* "leep for a wee#O for the next night, I warrant, The $ounty Paris hath set up his rest That you shall rest but little. God forgi?e e* (arry, and a en. -ow sound is she asleep* I needs ust wa#e her. (ada , ada , ada * 0y, let the $ounty ta#e you in your bed* -eNll fright you up, iN faith. Will it not beU @%raws aside the curtains.B What, dressNd, and in your clothes, and down againU I ust needs wa#e you. Lady* lady* lady* 0las, alas* -elp, help* (y ladyNs dead* ' weraday that e?er I was born* "o e aRua5?itae, ho* (y lord* y lady* Enter (other. (other. What noise is hereU )urse. ' la entable day* (other. What is the atterU )urse. Loo#, loo#* ' hea?y day* (other. ' e, ' e* (y child, y only life* &e?i?e, loo# up, or I will die with thee* -elp, help* $all help. Enter !ather. !ather. !or sha e, bring 8uliet forthO her lord is co e. )urse. "heNs dead, deceasNdO sheNs dead* 0lac# the day* (other. 0lac# the day, sheNs dead, sheNs dead, sheNs dead* $ap. -a* let e see her. 'ut alas* sheNs cold, -er blood is settled, and her joints are stiffO Life and these lips ha?e long been separated. %eath lies on her li#e an unti ely frost 9pon the sweetest flower of all the field.
)urse. ' la entable day* (other. ' woful ti e* $ap. %eath, that hath taNen her hence to a#e Ties up y tongue and will not let e spea#.
Enter !riar @LaurenceB and the $ounty @ParisB, with (usicians. !riar. $o e, is the bride ready to go to churchU $ap. &eady to go, but ne?er to return. ' son, the night before thy wedding day -ath %eath lain with thy wife. "ee, there she lies, !lower as she was, deflowered by hi . %eath is y son5in5law, %eath is y heirO (y daughter he hath wedded. I will die 0nd lea?e hi all. Life, li?ing, all is %eathNs. Par. -a?e I thought long to see this orningNs face, 0nd doth it gi?e e such a sight as thisU (other. 0ccursNd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day* (ost iserable hour that eNer ti e saw In lasting labour of his pilgri age* 7ut one, poor one, one poor and lo?ing child, 7ut one thing to rejoice and solace in, 0nd cruel %eath hath catchNd it fro y sight* )urse. ' woeU ' woful, woful, woful day* (ost la entable day, ost woful day That e?er e?er I did yet behold* ' day* ' day* ' day* ' hateful day* )e?er was seen so blac# a day as this. ' woful day* ' woful day* Par. 7eguilNd, di?orced, wronged, spited, slain* (ost detestable %eath, by thee beguilNd, 7y cruel cruel thee Ruite o?erthrown* ' lo?e* ' life* not life, but lo?e in death $ap. %espisNd, distressed, hated, artyrNd, #illNd* 9nco fortable ti e, why ca Nst thou now To urther, urther our sole nityU ' child* ' child* y soul, and not y child* %ead art thou, dead* alac#, y child is dead, 0nd with y child y joys are buried* !riar. Peace, ho, for sha e* $onfusionNs cure li?es not In these confusions. -ea?en and yourself -ad part in this fair aid* now hea?en hath all, 0nd all the better is it for the aid. 1our part in her you could not #eep fro death, 7ut hea?en #eeps his part in eternal life. The ost you sought was her pro otion, !or Ntwas your hea?en she should be ad?ancNdO 0nd weep ye now, seeing she is ad?ancNd 0bo?e the clouds, as high as hea?en itselfU ', in this lo?e, you lo?e your child so ill That you run ad, seeing that she is well. "heNs not well arried that li?es arried long, 7ut sheNs best arried that dies arried young. %ry up your tears and stic# your rose ary 'n this fair corse, and, as the custo is, In all her best array bear her to churchO !or though fond nature bids us all la ent, 1et natureNs tears are reasonNs erri ent. $ap. 0ll things that we ordained festi?al Turn fro their office to blac# funeral5 'ur instru ents to elancholy bells, 'ur wedding cheer to a sad burial feastO 'ur sole n hy ns to sullen dirges changeO 'ur bridal flowers ser?e for a buried corseO 0nd all things change the to the contrary. !riar. "ir, go you inO and, ada , go with hi O
0nd go, "ir Paris. E?ery one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her gra?e. The hea?ens do lowNr upon you for so e illO (o?e the no ore by crossing their high will. Exeunt. (anent (usicians @and )urseB. 2. (us. !aith, we ay put up our pipes and be gone. )urse. -onest good fellows, ah, put up, put up* !or well you #now this is a pitiful case. @Exit.B 2. (us. 0y, by y troth, the case ay be a ended. Enter Peter. Pet. (usicians, ', usicians, N-eartNs ease,N N-eartNs easeN* ', an you will ha?e e li?e, play N-eartNs ease.N 2. (us. Why N-eartNs easeNN, Pet. ', usicians, because y heart itself plays N(y heart is full of woe.N ', play e so e erry du p to co fort e. 2. (us. )ot a du p we* NTis no ti e to play now. Pet. 1ou will not thenU 2. (us. )o. Pet. I will then gi?e it you soundly. 2. (us. What will you gi?e usU Pet. )o oney, on y faith, but the glee#. I will gi?e you the instrel. 2. (us. Then will I gi?e you the ser?ing5creature. Pet. Then will I lay the ser?ing5creatureNs dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets. INll re you, INll fa you. %o you note eU 2. (us. 0n you re us and fa us, you note us. <. (us. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit. Pet. Then ha?e at you with y wit* I will dry5beat you with an iron wit, and put up y iron dagger. 0nswer e li#e en. NWhen griping grief the heart doth wound, 0nd doleful du ps the ind oppress, Then usic with her sil?er soundN5 Why Nsil?er soundNU Why N usic with her sil?er soundNU What say you, "i on $atlingU 2. (us. (arry, sir, because sil?er hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty* What say 1ou, -ugh &ebec#U <. (us. I say Nsil?er soundN because usicians sound for sil?er. Pet. Pretty too* What say you, 8a es "oundpostU 6. (us. !aith, I #now not what to say. Pet. ', I cry you ercy* you are the singer. I will say for you. It is N usic with her sil?er soundN because usicians ha?e no gold for sounding. NThen usic with her sil?er sound With speedy help doth lend redress.N @Exit.
2. (us. What a pestilent #na?e is this sa eU <. (us. -ang hi , 8ac#* $o e, weNll in here, tarry for the ourners, and stay dinner. Exeunt.
0$T .. "cene I. (antua. 0 street. Enter &o eo. &o . If I ay trust the flattering truth of sleep (y drea s presage so e joyful news at hand. (y boso Ns lord sits lightly in his throne, 0nd all this day an unaccusto Nd spirit Lifts e abo?e the ground with cheerful thoughts. I drea t y lady ca e and found e dead :"trange drea that gi?es a dead an lea?e to thin#*; 0nd breathNd such life with #isses in y lips That I re?i?Nd and was an e peror. 0h e* how sweet is lo?e itself possessNd, When but lo?eNs shadows are so rich in joy* Enter &o eoNs (an 7althasar, booted. )ews fro .erona* -ow now, 7althasarU %ost thou not bring e letters fro the friarU -ow doth y ladyU Is y father wellU -ow fares y 8ulietU That I as# again, !or nothing can be ill if she be well. (an. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. -er body sleeps in $apelNs onu ent, 0nd her i ortal part with angels li?es. I saw her laid low in her #indredNs ?ault 0nd presently too# post to tell it you. ', pardon e for bringing these ill news, "ince you did lea?e it for y office, sir. &o . Is it eNen soU Then I defy you, stars* Thou #nowest y lodging. Get e in# and paper 0nd hire posthorses. I will hence to5night. (an. I do beseech you, sir, ha?e patience. 1our loo#s are pale and wild and do i port "o e isad?enture. &o . Tush, thou art decei?Nd. Lea?e e and do the thing I bid thee do. -ast thou no letters to e fro the friarU (an. )o, y good lord. &o . )o atter. Get thee gone 0nd hire those horses. INll be with thee straight. Exit @7althasarB. Well, 8uliet, I will lie with thee to5night. LetNs see for eans. ' ischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate en* I do re e ber an apothecary, 0nd hereabouts Na dwells, which late I noted In tattNred weeds, with o?erwhel ing brows, $ulling of si ples. (eagre were his loo#s, "harp isery had worn hi to the bonesO 0nd in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 0n alligator stuffNd, and other s#ins 'f ill5shaped fishesO and about his shel?es
0 beggarly account of e pty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders, and usty seeds, &e nants of pac#thread, and old ca#es of roses Were thinly scattered, to a#e up a show. )oting this penury, to yself I said, N0n if a an did need a poison now Whose sale is present death in (antua, -ere li?es a caitiff wretch would sell it hi .N ', this sa e thought did but forerun y need, 0nd this sa e needy an ust sell it e. 0s I re e ber, this should be the house. 7eing holiday, the beggarNs shop is shut. What, ho* apothecary* Enter 0pothecary. 0poth. Who calls so loudU &o . $o e hither, an. I see that thou art poor. -old, there is forty ducats. Let e ha?e 0 dra of poison, such soon5speeding gear 0s will disperse itself through all the ?eins That the life5weary ta#er all fall dead, 0nd that the trun# ay be dischargNd of breath 0s ?iolently as hasty powder firNd %oth hurry fro the fatal cannonNs wo b. 0poth. "uch ortal drugs I ha?eO but (antuaNs law Is death to any he that utters the . &o . 0rt thou so bare and full of wretchedness 0nd fearest to dieU !a ine is in thy chee#s, )eed and oppression star?eth in thine eyes, $onte pt and beggary hangs upon thy bac#E The world is not thy friend, nor the worldNs lawO The world affords no law to a#e thee richO Then be not poor, but brea# it and ta#e this. 0poth. (y po?erty but not y will consents. &o . I pay thy po?erty and not thy will. 0poth. Put this in any liRuid thing you will 0nd drin# it off, and if you had the strength 'f twenty en, it would dispatch you straight. &o . There is thy gold5 worse poison to enNs souls, %oing ore urther in this loathso e world, Than these poor co pounds that thou ayst not sell. I sell thee poisonO thou hast sold e none. !arewell. 7uy food and get thyself in flesh. $o e, cordial and not poison, go with e To 8ulietNs gra?eO for there ust I use thee. Exeunt.
"cene II. .erona. !riar LaurenceNs cell. Enter !riar 8ohn to !riar Laurence. 8ohn. -oly !ranciscan friar, brother, ho* Enter !riar Laurence. Laur. This sa e should be the ?oice of !riar 8ohn. Welco e fro (antua. What says &o eoU 'r, if his ind be writ, gi?e e his letter. 8ohn. Going to find a barefoot brother out, 'ne of our order, to associate e -ere in this city ?isiting the sic#,
0nd finding hi , the searchers of the town, "uspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did reign, "ealNd up the doors, and would not let us forth, "o that y speed to (antua there was stayNd. Laur. Who bare y letter, then, to &o eoU 8ohn. I could not send it5 here it is again5 )or get a essenger to bring it thee, "o fearful were they of infection. Laur. 9nhappy fortune* 7y y brotherhood, The letter was not nice, but full of charge, 'f dear i portO and the neglecting it (ay do uch danger. !riar 8ohn, go hence, Get e an iron crow and bring it straight 9nto y cell. 8ohn. 7rother, INll go and bring it thee. Exit. Laur. )ow, ust I to the onu ent alone. Within this three hours will fair 8uliet wa#e. "he will beshrew e uch that &o eo -ath had no notice of these accidentsO 7ut I will write again to (antua, 0nd #eep her at y cell till &o eo co e5 Poor li?ing corse, closNd in a dead anNs to b* Exit.
"cene III. .erona. 0 churchyardO in it the
onu ent of the $apulets.
Enter Paris and his Page with flowers and @a torchB. Par. Gi?e e thy torch, boy. -ence, and stand aloof. 1et put it out, for I would not be seen. 9nder yond yew tree lay thee all along, -olding thine ear close to the hollow ground. "o shall no foot upon the churchyard tread :7eing loose, unfir , with digging up of gra?es; 7ut thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to e, 0s signal that thou hearNst so ething approach. Gi?e e those flowers. %o as I bid thee, go. Page. @asideB I a al ost afraid to stand alone -ere in the churchyardO yet I will ad?enture. @&etires.B Par. "weet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew :' woe* thy canopy is dust and stones; Which with sweet water nightly I will dewO 'r, wanting that, with tears distillNd by oans. The obseRuies that I for thee will #eep )ightly shall be to strew, thy gra?e and weep. Whistle 7oy. The boy gi?es warning so ething doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way to5night To cross y obseRuies and true lo?eNs riteU What, with a torchU (uffle e, night, awhile. @&etires.B Enter &o eo, and 7althasar with a torch, a and a crow of iron. attoc#,
&o . Gi?e e that attoc# and the wrenching iron. -old, ta#e this letter. Early in the orning "ee thou deli?er it to y lord and father. Gi?e e the light. 9pon thy life I charge thee, WhateNer thou hearest or seest, stand all aloof 0nd do not interrupt e in y course. Why I descend into this bed of death Is partly to behold y ladyNs face,
7ut chiefly to ta#e thence fro her dead finger 0 precious ring5 a ring that I ust use In dear e ploy ent. Therefore hence, be gone. 7ut if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I farther shall intend to do, 7y hea?en, I will tear thee joint by joint 0nd strew this hungry churchyard with thy li bs. The ti e and y intents are sa?age5wild, (ore fierce and ore inexorable far Than e pty tigers or the roaring sea. 7al. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. &o . "o shalt thou show e friendship. Ta#e thou that. Li?e, and be prosperousO and farewell, good fellow. 7al. @asideB !or all this sa e, INll hide e hereabout. -is loo#s I fear, and his intents I doubt. @&etires.B &o . Thou detestable aw, thou wo b of death, GorgNd with the dearest orsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, 0nd in despite INll cra thee with ore food. &o eo opens the to b. Par. This is that banishNd haughty (ontague That urdNred y lo?eNs cousin5 with which grief It is supposed the fair creature died5 0nd here is co e to do so e ?illanous sha e To the dead bodies. I will apprehend hi . "top thy unhallowed toil, ?ile (ontague* $an ?engeance be pursuNd further than deathU $onde ned ?illain, I do apprehend thee. 'bey, and go with eO for thou ust die. &o . I ust indeedO and therefore ca e I hither. Good gentle youth, te pt not a despNrate an. !ly hence and lea?e e. Thin# upon these goneO Let the affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, 7ut not another sin upon y head 7y urging e to fury. ', be gone* 7y hea?en, I lo?e thee better than yself, !or I co e hither ar Nd against yself. "tay not, be gone. Li?e, and hereafter say 0 ad anNs ercy bid thee run away. Par. I do defy thy, conjuration 0nd apprehend thee for a felon here. &o . Wilt thou pro?o#e eU Then ha?e at thee, boy* They fight. Page. ' Lord, they fight* I will go call the watch. @Exit. Paris falls.B Par. ', I a slain* If thou be erciful, 'pen the to b, lay e with 8uliet. @%ies.B &o . In faith, I will. Let e peruse this face. (ercutioNs #ins an, noble $ounty Paris* What said y an when y betossed soul %id not attend hi as we rodeU I thin# -e told e Paris should ha?e arried 8uliet. "aid he not soU or did I drea it soU 'r a I ad, hearing hi tal# of 8uliet To thin# it was soU ', gi?e e thy hand, 'ne writ with e in sour isfortuneNs boo#* INll bury thee in a triu phant gra?e. 0 gra?eU ', no, a lanthorn, slaughtNred youth, !or here lies 8uliet, and her beauty a#es This ?ault a feasting presence full of light. %eath, lie thou there, by a dead an interrNd. @Lays hi in the to b.B -ow oft when en are at the point of death -a?e they been erry* which their #eepers call 0 lightning before death. ', how ay I $all this a lightningU ' y lo?e* y wife*
%eath, that hath suc#Nd the honey of thy breath, -ath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Thou art not conRuerNd. 7eautyNs ensign yet Is cri son in thy lips and in thy chee#s, 0nd deathNs pale flag is not ad?anced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheetU ', what ore fa?our can I do to thee Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine ene yU !orgi?e e, cousin.N 0h, dear 8uliet, Why art thou yet so fairU "hall I belie?e That unsubstantial %eath is a orous, 0nd that the lean abhorred onster #eeps Thee here in dar# to be his para ourU !or fear of that I still will stay with thee 0nd ne?er fro this palace of di night %epart again. -ere, here will I re ain With wor s that are thy cha ber aids. ', here Will I set up y e?erlasting rest 0nd sha#e the yo#e of inauspicious stars !ro this world5wearied flesh. Eyes, loo# your last* 0r s, ta#e your last e brace* and, lips, ' you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous #iss 0 dateless bargain to engrossing death* $o e, bitter conductO co e, unsa?oury guide* Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing roc#s thy seasic# weary bar#* -ereNs to y lo?e* @%rin#s.B ' true apothecary* Thy drugs are Ruic#. Thus with a #iss I die. !alls. Enter !riar @LaurenceB, with lanthorn, crow, and spade. !riar. "aint !rancis be y speed* how oft to5night -a?e y old feet stu bled at gra?es* WhoNs thereU 7al. -ereNs one, a friend, and one that #nows you well. !riar. 7liss be upon you* Tell e, good y friend, What torch is yond that ?ainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless s#ullsU 0s I discern, It burneth in the $apelsN onu ent. 7al. It doth so, holy sirO and thereNs y aster, 'ne that you lo?e. !riar. Who is itU 7al. &o eo. !riar. -ow long hath he been thereU 7al. !ull half an hour. !riar. Go with e to the ?ault. 7al. I dare not, sir. (y aster #nows not but I a gone hence, 0nd fearfully did enace e with death If I did stay to loo# on his intents. !riar. "tay thenO INll go alone. !ear co es upon e. ', uch I fear so e ill unthrifty thing. 7al. 0s I did sleep under this yew tree here, I drea t y aster and another fought, 0nd that y aster slew hi . !riar. &o eo* 0lac#, alac#, what blood is this which stains The stony entrance of this sepulchreU What ean these asterless and gory swords To lie discolourNd by this place of peaceU @Enters the to b.B &o eo* ', pale* Who elseU What, Paris tooU 0nd steepNd in bloodU 0h, what an un#ind hour Is guilty of this la entable chance* The lady stirs. 8uliet rises. 8ul. ' co fortable friar* where is y lordU I do re e ber well where I should be,
0nd there I a . Where is y &o eoU !riar. I hear so e noise. Lady, co e fro that nest 'f death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. 0 greater power than we can contradict -ath thwarted our intents. $o e, co e away. Thy husband in thy boso there lies deadO 0nd Paris too. $o e, INll dispose of thee 0 ong a sisterhood of holy nuns. "tay not to Ruestion, for the watch is co ing. $o e, go, good 8uliet. I dare no longer stay. 8ul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. Exit @!riarB. WhatNs hereU 0 cup, closNd in y true lo?eNs handU Poison, I see, hath been his ti eless end. ' churl* drun# all, and left no friendly drop To help e afterU I will #iss thy lips. -aply so e poison yet doth hang on the To a#e e die with a restorati?e. @/isses hi .B Thy lips are war * $hief Watch. @withinB Lead, boy. Which wayU 1ea, noiseU Then INll be brief. ' happy dagger* @"natches &o eoNs dagger.B This is thy sheathO there rest, and let e die. "he stabs herself and falls @on &o eoNs bodyB. Enter @ParisNsB 7oy and Watch. 7oy. This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn. $hief Watch. Nthe ground is bloody. "earch about the churchyard. Go, so e of youO whoeNer you find attach. @Exeunt so e of the Watch.B Pitiful sight* here lies the $ounty slainO 0nd 8uliet bleeding, war , and newly dead, Who here hath lain this two days buried. Go, tell the PrinceO run to the $apuletsO &aise up the (ontaguesO so e others search. @Exeunt others of the Watch.B We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, 7ut the true ground of all these piteous woes We cannot without circu stance descry. Enter @so e of the Watch,B with &o eoNs (an @7althasarB. <. Watch. -ereNs &o eoNs an. We found hi in the churchyard. $hief Watch. -old hi in safety till the Prince co e hither. Enter !riar @LaurenceB and another Watch an. 6. Watch. -ere is a friar that tre bles, sighs, and weeps. We too# this attoc# and this spade fro hi 0s he was co ing fro this churchyard side. $hief Watch. 0 great suspicion* "tay the friar too. Enter the Prince @and 0ttendantsB. Prince. What isad?enture is so early up, That calls our person fro our orning restU Enter $apulet and his Wife @with othersB. $ap. What should it be, that they so shrie# abroadU Wife. The people in the street cry N&o eo,N "o e N8uliet,N and so e NParisNO and all run, With open outcry, toward our onu ent. Prince. What fear is this which startles in our earsU
$hief Watch. "o?ereign, here lies the $ounty Paris slainO 0nd &o eo deadO and 8uliet, dead before, War and new #illNd. Prince. "earch, see#, and #now how this foul urder co es. $hief Watch. -ere is a friar, and slaughterNd &o eoNs an, With instru ents upon the fit to open These dead enNs to bs. $ap. ' hea?ens* ' wife, loo# how our daughter bleeds* This dagger hath istaNen, for, lo, his house Is e pty on the bac# of (ontague, 0nd it issheathed in y daughterNs boso * Wife. ' e* this sight of death is as a bell That warns y old age to a sepulchre. Enter (ontague @and othersB. Prince. $o e, (ontagueO for thou art early up To see thy son and heir ore early down. (on. 0las, y liege, y wife is dead to5night* Grief of y sonNs exile hath stoppNd her breath. What further woe conspires against ine ageU Prince. Loo#, and thou shalt see. (on. ' thou untaught* what anners is in this, To press before thy father to a gra?eU Prince. "eal up the outh of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these a biguities 0nd #now their spring, their head, their true descentO 0nd then will I be general of your woes 0nd lead you e?en to death. (eanti e forbear, 0nd let ischance be sla?e to patience. 7ring forth the parties of suspicion. !riar. I a the greatest, able to do least, 1et ost suspected, as the ti e and place %oth a#e against e, of this direful urtherO 0nd here I stand, both to i peach and purge (yself conde ned and yself excusNd. Prince. Then say it once what thou dost #now in this. !riar. I will be brief, for y short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. &o eo, there dead, was husband to that 8ulietO 0nd she, there dead, that &o eoNs faithful wife. I arried the O and their stolNn arriage day Was TybaltNs doo sday, whose unti ely death 7anishNd the new5 ade bridegroo fro this cityO !or who , and not for Tybalt, 8uliet pinNd. 1ou, to re o?e that siege of grief fro her, 7etrothNd and would ha?e arried her perforce To $ounty Paris. Then co es she to e 0nd with wild loo#s bid e de?ise so e ean To rid her fro this second arriage, 'r in y cell there would she #ill herself. Then ga?e I her :so tutored by y art; 0 sleeping potionO which so too# effect 0s I intended, for it wrought on her The for of death. (eanti e I writ to &o eo That he should hither co e as this dire night To help to ta#e her fro her borrowed gra?e, 7eing the ti e the potionNs force should cease. 7ut he which bore y letter, !riar 8ohn, Was stayNd by accident, and yesternight &eturnNd y letter bac#. Then all alone 0t the prefixed hour of her wa#ing $a e I to ta#e her fro her #indredNs ?aultO (eaning to #eep her closely at y cell Till I con?eniently could send to &o eo. 7ut when I ca e, so e inute ere the ti e
'f her awa#ing, here unti ely lay The noble Paris and true &o eo dead. "he wa#esO and I entreated her co e forth 0nd bear this wor# of hea?en with patienceO 7ut then a noise did scare e fro the to b, 0nd she, too desperate, would not go with e, 7ut, as it see s, did ?iolence on herself. 0ll this I #now, and to the arriage -er nurse is pri?yO and if aught in this (iscarried by y fault, let y old life 7e sacrificNd, so e hour before his ti e, 9nto the rigour of se?erest law. Prince. We still ha?e #nown thee for a holy an. WhereNs &o eoNs anU What can he say in thisU 7al. I brought y aster news of 8ulietNs deathO 0nd then in post he ca e fro (antua To this sa e place, to this sa e onu ent. This letter he early bid e gi?e his father, 0nd threatNned e with death, going in the ?ault, If I departed not and left hi there. Prince. Gi?e e the letter. I will loo# on it. Where is the $ountyNs page that raisNd the watchU "irrah, what ade your aster in this placeU 7oy. -e ca e with flowers to strew his ladyNs gra?eO 0nd bid e stand aloof, and so I did. 0non co es one with light to ope the to bO 0nd by5and5by y aster drew on hi O 0nd then I ran away to call the watch. Prince. This letter doth a#e good the friarNs words, Their course of lo?e, the tidings of her deathO 0nd here he writes that he did buy a poison 'f a poor pothecary, and therewithal $a e to this ?ault to die, and lie with 8uliet. Where be these ene iesU $apulet, (ontage, "ee what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That hea?en finds eans to #ill your joys with lo?e* 0nd I, for win#ing at you, discords too, -a?e lost a brace of #ins en. 0ll are punishNd. $ap. ' brother (ontague, gi?e e thy hand. This is y daughterNs jointure, for no ore $an I de and. (on. 7ut I can gi?e thee oreO !or I will raise her "tatue in pure gold, That whiles .erona by that na e is #nown, There shall no figure at such rate be set 0s that of true and faithful 8uliet. $ap. 0s rich shall &o eoNs by his ladyNs lie5 Poor sacrifices of our en ity* Prince. 0 gloo ing peace this orning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence, to ha?e ore tal# of these sad thingsO "o e shall be pardonNd, and so e punishedO !or ne?er was a story of ore woe Than this of 8uliet and her &o eo. Exeunt o nes. T-E E)%
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End of this Etext of The $o plete Wor#s of Willia The Tragedy of &o eo and 8uliet
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