_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE _and_ ROMEO
_Friar Laurence._ So smile the heavens upon this holy act
That after hours with sorrow chide us not!
_Romeo._ Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight.
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love--devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.
_Friar Laurence._ These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, 10
Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately, long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.--
_Enter_ JULIET
Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint!
A lover may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall, so light is vanity. 20
_Juliet._ Good even to my ghostly confessor.
_Friar Laurence._ Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
_Juliet._ As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
_Romeo._ Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.
_Juliet._ Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament. 31
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
_Friar Laurence._ Come, come with me, and we will make short work;
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
Till holy church incorporate two in one. [_Exeunt._
[Illustration: Loggia of Capulet's House]
ACT III
SCENE I. _A Public Place_
_Enter_ MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, _and_ Servants
_Benvolio._ I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
And if we meet we shall not scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
_Mercutio._ Thou art like one of those fellows that
when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his
sword upon the table, and says 'God send me no
need of thee!' and by the operation of the second
cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is
no need. 10
_Benvolio._ Am I like such a fellow?
_Mercutio._ Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in
thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be
moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
_Benvolio._ And what to?
_Mercutio._ Nay, an there were two such, we should
have none shortly, for one would kill the other.
Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath
a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard than thou
hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking 20
nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast
hazel eyes; what eye but such an eye would spy out
such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as
an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been
beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou
hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street,
because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain
asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a
tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter?
with another for tying his new shoes with old riband? 30
and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
_Benvolio._ An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art,
any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an
hour and a quarter.
_Mercutio._ The fee-simple! O simple!
_Benvolio._ By my head, here come the Capulets.
_Mercutio._ By my heel, I care not.
_Enter_ TYBALT _and others_
_Tybalt._ Follow me close, for I will speak to them.--
Gentlemen, good den; a word with one of you.
_Mercutio._ And but one word with one of us? 40
couple it with something; make it a word and a
blow.
_Tybalt._ You shall find me apt enough to that, sir,
an you will give me occasion.
_Mercutio._ Could you not take some occasion without
giving?
_Tybalt._ Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--
_Mercutio._ Consort! what, dost thou make us
minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to
hear nothing but discords; here's my fiddlestick, 50
here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!
_Benvolio._ We talk here in the public haunt of men.
Either withdraw unto some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
_Mercutio._ Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
_Enter_ ROMEO
_Tybalt._ Well, peace be with you, sir; here comes my man.
_Mercutio._ But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery.
Marry, go before to field, he 'll be your follower; 60
Your worship in that sense may call him man.
_Tybalt._ Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
No better term than this,--thou art a villain.
_Romeo._ Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting. Villain am I none,
Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.
_Tybalt._ Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
_Romeo._ I do protest, I never injur'd thee, 70
But love thee better than thou canst devise
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love;
And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender
As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.
_Mercutio._ O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
A la stoccata carries it away.-- [_Draws._
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
_Tybalt._ What wouldst thou have with me?
_Mercutio._ Good king of cats, nothing but one of
your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, 80
and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest
of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his
pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about
your ears ere it be out.
_Tybalt._ I am for you. [_Drawing._
_Romeo._ Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
_Mercutio._ Come, sir, your passado. [_They fight._
_Romeo._ Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.--
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath 90
Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
[_Exeunt Tybalt and his partisans._
_Mercutio._ I am hurt.
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
_Benvolio._ What, art thou hurt?
Mercutio. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.--
Where is my page?--Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [_Exit Page._
_Romeo._ Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
_Mercutio._ No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so
wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve;
ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave 100
man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world.--A
plague o' both your houses!--Zounds, a dog, a rat,
a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart,
a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
arithmetic!--Why the devil came you between us?
I was hurt under your arm.
_Romeo._ I thought all for the best.
_Mercutio._ Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint.--A plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me. I have it, 110
And soundly too;--your houses!
[_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio_
_Romeo._ This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my cousin!--O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
_Re-enter_ BENVOLIO
_Benvolio._ O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, 120
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
_Romeo._ This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins the woe others must end.
_Benvolio._ Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
_Re-enter_ TYBALT
_Romeo._ Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!--
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again
That late thou gav'st me! for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads, 130
Staying for thine to keep him company;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
_Tybalt._ Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.
_Romeo._ This shall determine that.
[_They fight; Tybalt falls._
_Benvolio._ Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
Stand not amaz'd; the prince will doom thee death
If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!
_Romeo._ O, I am fortune's fool!
_Benvolio._ Why dost thou stay?
[_Exit Romeo._
_Enter_ Citizens, _etc_.
_1 Citizen._ Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? 140
Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he?
_Benvolio._ There lies that Tybalt.
_1 Citizen._ Up, sir, go with me;
I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.
_Enter_ Prince, _attended_; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, _their_ Wives, _and
others_
_Prince._ Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
_Benvolio._ O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl.
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
_Lady Capulet._ Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt 150
Of my dear kinsman!--Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.--
O cousin, cousin!
_Prince._ Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
_Benvolio._ Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure. All this, uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen 160
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud,
'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and swifter than his tongue,
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes, underneath whose arm 170
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio; and then Tybalt fled,
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain,
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
_Lady Capulet._ He is a kinsman to the Montague;
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. 180
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
_Prince._ Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
_Montague._ Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.
_Prince._ And for that offence
Immediately we do exile him hence. 190
I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
That you shall all repent the loss of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
Therefore use none; let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body and attend our will;
Mercy but murthers, pardoning those that kill. 200
[_Exeunt._
SCENE II. _Capulet's Orchard_
_Enter_ JULIET
_Juliet._ Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phœbus' lodging; such a waggoner
As Phaethon would whip you to the west
And bring in cloudy night immediately.--
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing Night,
That runaways' eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.--
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night.--Come, civil Night, 10
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle, till strange love grown bold
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, Night, come, Romeo, come, thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of Night
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
Come, gentle Night, come, loving, black-brow'd Night,
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, 21
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.--
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd. So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes 30
And may not wear them.--O, here comes my nurse,
And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.--
_Enter_ Nurse, _with cords_
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
That Romeo bid thee fetch?
_Nurse._ Ay, ay, the Cords.
[_Throws them down._
_Juliet._ Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
_Nurse._ Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone!
Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
_Juliet._ Can heaven be so envious?
_Nurse._ Romeo can, 40
Though heaven cannot.--O Romeo, Romeo!--
Who ever would have thought it?--Romeo!
_Juliet._ What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but ay,
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
I am not I, if there be such an I,
Or those eyes shut that make thee answer ay.
If he be slain, say ay; or if not, no. 50
Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
_Nurse._ I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes--
God save the mark!--here on his manly breast;
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse,
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.
_Juliet._ O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!
To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! 60
_Nurse._ O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!
_Juliet._ What storm is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
For who is living if those two are gone?
_Nurse._ Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. 70
_Juliet._ O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
_Nurse._ It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
_Juliet._ O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face;
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinest show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
A damned saint, an honourable villain!
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, 80
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?
Was ever book containing such vile matter
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!
_Nurse._ There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.--
Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitæ.--
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows, make me old.
Shame come to Romeo!
_Juliet._ Blister'd be thy tongue 90
For such a wish! he was not born to shame;
Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit,
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!
_Nurse._ Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
_Juliet._ Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?--
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? 100
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband.
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you mistaking offer up to joy.
My husband lives that Tybalt would have slain,
And Tybalt's dead that would have slain my husband.
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murther'd me. I would forget it fain,
But, O, it presses to my memory, 110
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished!'
That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there;
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
Why follow'd not, when she said Tybalt's dead,
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern lamentation might have mov'd? 120
But with a rearward following Tybalt's death,
'Romeo is banished!'--to speak that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.--
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?
_Nurse._ Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
_Juliet._ Wash they his wounds with tears; mine shall be spent, 130
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords.--Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd;
He made you for a highway to my bed,
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
_Nurse._ Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo
To comfort you; I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night.
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.
_Juliet._ O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell. 141
[_Exeunt._
SCENE III. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE
_Friar Laurence._ Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man.
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.
_Enter_ ROMEO
_Romeo._ Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
_Friar Laurence._ Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sour company;
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
_Romeo._ What less than doomsday is the prince's doom?
_Friar Laurence._ A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, 10
Not body's death, but body's banishment.
_Romeo._ Ha, banishment! be merciful, say death,
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death; do not say banishment.
_Friar Laurence._ Hence from Verona art thou banished;
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
_Romeo._ There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death. Then banished 20
Is death misterm'd; calling death banishment
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murthers me.
_Friar Laurence._ O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
_Romeo._ 'Tis torture, and not mercy; heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog 30
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion-flies than Romeo. They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not, he is banished. 40
This may flies do, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But 'banished' to kill me?--Banished!
O friar, the damned use that word in hell,
Howling attends it; how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, 50
To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
_Friar Laurence._ Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
_Romeo._ O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
_Friar Laurence._ I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
_Romeo._ Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
It helps not, it prevails not; talk no more. 60
_Friar Laurence._ O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
_Romeo._ How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
_Friar Laurence._ Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
_Romeo._ Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murthered,
Doting like me and like me banished,
Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 70
[_Knocking within._
_Friar Laurence._ Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.
_Romeo._ Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans
Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. [_Knocking._
_Friar Laurence._ Hark, how they knock!--Who's there?--Romeo, arise;
Thou wilt be taken.--Stay awhile!--Stand up; [_Knocking._
Run to my study.--By and by!--God's will,
What simpleness is this!--I come, I come! [_Knocking._
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
_Nurse._ [_Within_] Let me come in and you shall know my errand;
I come from Lady Juliet.
_Friar Laurence._ Welcome, then. 80
_Enter_ NURSE
_Nurse._ O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
_Friar Laurence._ There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
_Nurse._ O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case!
_Friar Laurence._ O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament!
_Nurse._ Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.--
Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man.
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand.
Why should you fall into so deep an O? 90
_Romeo._ Nurse!
_Nurse._ Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
_Romeo._ Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murtherer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
_Nurse._ O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, 100
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
And then down falls again.
_Romeo._ As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murther her, as that name's cursed hand
Murther'd her kinsman.--O, tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion. [_Drawing his sword._
_Friar Laurence._ Hold thy desperate hand!
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art;
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote 110
The unreasonable fury of a beast.
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Thou hast amaz'd me; by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet 120
In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man;
Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 130
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too.
The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy. 140
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back,
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live till we can find a time 150
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.--
Go before, nurse, commend me to thy lady,
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto;
Romeo is coming.
_Nurse._ O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
To hear good counsel; O, what learning is!-- 160
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
_Romeo._ Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
_Nurse._ Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir;
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [_Exit._
_Romeo._ How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
_Friar Laurence._ Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence.
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time 170
Every good hap to you that chances here.
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
_Romeo._ But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee.
Farewell. [_Exeunt._
SCENE IV. _A Room in Capulet's House_
_Enter_ CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, _and_ PARIS
_Capulet._ Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily
That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I.--Well, we were born to die.--
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night;
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
_Paris._ These times of woe afford no time to woo.--
Madam, good night; commend me to your daughter.
_Lady Capulet._ I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; 10
To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
_Capulet._ Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love. I think she will be rul'd
In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.--
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
But, soft! what day is this?
_Paris._ Monday, my lord.
_Capulet._ Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon.
O' Thursday let it be; o' Thursday, tell her, 20
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much.
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
_Paris._ My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
_Capulet._ Well, get you gone; o' Thursday be it then.-- 30
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.--
Farewell, my lord.--Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me, it is so very late, that we
May call it early by and by.--Good night. [_Exeunt._
SCENE V. _Juliet's Chamber_
_Enter_ ROMEO _and_ JULIET
_Juliet._ Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
_Romeo._ It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 10
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
_Juliet._ Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I.
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer
And light thee on thy way to Mantua;
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
_Romeo._ Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; 20
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay than will to go;
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is 't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
_Juliet._ It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us. 30
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
_Romeo._ More light and light?--More dark and
dark our woes!
_Enter_ Nurse
_Nurse._ Madam!
_Juliet._ Nurse?
_Nurse._ Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
The day is broke; be wary, look about. [_Exit._
_Juliet._ Then, window, let day in, and let life out. 41
_Romeo._ Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.
[_Romeo descends._
_Juliet._ Art thou gone so? my lord, my love, my friend!
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days.
O, by this count I shall be much in years
Ere I again behold my Romeo!
_Romeo._ Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
_Juliet._ O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? 50
_Romeo._ I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
_Juliet._ O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb;
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
_Romeo._ And trust me, love, in my eye so do you;
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! [_Exit._
_Juliet._ O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle;
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him 60
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
_Lady Capulet._ [_Within_] Ho, daughter! are you up?
_Juliet._ Who is 't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
_Enter_ LADY CAPULET
_Lady Capulet._ Why, how now, Juliet!
_Juliet._ Madam, I am not well.
_Lady Capulet._ Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; 70
Therefore, have done. Some grief shows much of love,
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
_Juliet._ Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
_Lady Capulet._ So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
Which you weep for.
_Juliet._ Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
_Lady Capulet._ Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
_Juliet._ What villain, madam?
_Lady Capulet._ That same villain, Romeo.
_Juliet._ Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- 80
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
_Lady Capulet._ That is, because the traitor murtherer lives.
_Juliet._ Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!
_Lady Capulet._ We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not;
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company; 90
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
_Juliet._ Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd.--
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it,
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd, and cannot come to him,
To wreak the love I bore my cousin 100
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!
_Lady Capulet._ Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
_Juliet._ And joy comes well in such a needy time.
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
_Lady Capulet._ Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
_Juliet._ Madam, in happy time, what day is that? 110
_Lady Capulet._ Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
_Juliet._ Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, 120
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!
_Lady Capulet._ Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
_Enter_ CAPULET _and_ Nurse
_Capulet._ When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
But for the sunset of my brother's son
It rains downright.--
How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind: 130
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs,
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body.--How now, wife!
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
_Lady Capulet._ Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave!
_Capulet._ Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. 140
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
_Juliet._ Not proud you have, but thankful that you have;
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.
_Capulet._ How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
'Proud' and 'I thank you' and 'I thank you not,'
And yet 'not proud'! Mistress minion, you, 150
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
You tallow-face!
_Lady Capulet._ Fie, fie! what, are you mad?
_Juliet._ Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
_Capulet._ Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!
I tell thee what, get thee to church o' Thursday 160
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;
My fingers itch.--Wife, we scarce thought us blest
That God had lent us but this only child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her;
Out on her, hilding!
_Nurse._ God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
_Capulet._ And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,
Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. 170
_Nurse._ I speak no treason.
_Capulet._ O, God ye god-den!
_Nurse._ May not one speak?
_Capulet._ Peace, you mumbling fool!
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.
_Lady Capulet._ You are too hot.
_Capulet._ God's bread! it makes me mad! Day, night, late, early,
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, 180
Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man,--
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,
I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'--
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you;
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Look to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. 190
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to 't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. [_Exit._
_Juliet._ Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 200
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
_Lady Capulet._ Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word;
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [_Exit._
_Juliet._ O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.--
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!-- 210
What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.
_Nurse._ Faith, here 'tis. Romeo
Is banished, and all the world to nothing
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!
Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye 220
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were
As living here and you no use of him.
_Juliet._ Speakest thou from thy heart?
_Nurse._ And from my soul too;
Or else beshrew them both.
_Juliet._ Amen!
_Nurse._ What?
_Juliet._ Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, 230
To make confession and to be absolv'd.
_Nurse._ Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [_Exit._
_Juliet._ Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times?--Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.--
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die. [_Exit._
[Illustration: JULIET AT LAURENCE'S CELL.]
ACT IV
SCENE I. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE _and_ PARIS
_Friar Laurence._ On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
_Paris._ My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
_Friar Laurence._ You say you do not know the lady's mind;
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
_Paris._ Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, 10
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears,
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
_Friar Laurence._ [_Aside_] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.--
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
_Enter_ JULIET
_Paris._ Happily met, my lady and my wife!
_Juliet._ That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
_Paris._ That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. 20
_Juliet._ What must be shall be.
_Friar Laurence._ That's a certain text.
_Paris._ Come you to make confession to this father?
_Juliet._ To answer that, I should confess to you.
_Paris._ Do not deny to him that you love me.
_Juliet._ I will confess to you that I love him.
_Paris._ So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
_Juliet._ If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
_Paris._ Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
_Juliet._ The tears have got small victory by that, 30
For it was bad enough before their spite.
_Paris._ Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.
_Juliet._ That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
_Paris._ Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
_Juliet._ It may be so, for it is not mine own.--
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
_Friar Laurence._ My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.--
My lord, we must entreat the time alone. 40
_Paris._ God shield I should disturb devotion!--
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye;
Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss. [_Exit._
_Juliet._ O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!
_Friar Laurence._ Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.
_Juliet._ Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, 50
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it;
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, 60
Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
_Friar Laurence._ Hold, daughter! I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent. 70
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
_Juliet._ O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; 80
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud,--
Things, that to hear them told, have made me tremble,--
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
_Friar Laurence._ Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris. Wednesday is to-morrow. 90
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress but surcease.
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, 100
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death;
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.
Then, as the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier 110
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear
Abate thy valour in the acting it. 120
_Juliet._ Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!
_Friar Laurence._ Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
_Juliet._ Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
Farewell, dear father! [_Exeunt._
SCENE II. _Hall in Capulet's House_
_Enter_ CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Nurse, _and two_ Servingmen
_Capulet._ So many guests invite as here are writ.--
[_Exit Servant._
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
_2 Servant._ You shall have none ill, sir, for I'll
try if they can lick their fingers.
_Capulet._ How canst thou try them so?
_2 Servant._ Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot
lick his own fingers; therefore he that cannot lick his
fingers goes not with me.
_Capulet._ Go, be gone.-- [_Exit Servant._
We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. 10
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?
_Nurse._ Ay, forsooth.
_Capulet._ Well, he may chance to do some good on her;
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
_Nurse._ See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
_Enter_ JULIET
_Capulet._ How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?
_Juliet._ Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here 20
And beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.
_Capulet._ Send for the county; go tell him of this.
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
_Juliet._ I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell,
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
_Capulet._ Why, I am glad on 't; this is well,--stand up.
This is as 't should be.--Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.-- 30
Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
_Juliet._ Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
_Lady Capulet._ No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.
_Capulet._ Go, nurse, go with her; we'll to church to-morrow.
[_Exeunt Juliet and Nurse._
_Lady Capulet._ We shall be short in our provision;
'Tis now near night.
_Capulet._ Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. 40
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her.
I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone,
I'll play the housewife for this once.--What, ho!--
They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
To County Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [_Exeunt._
Scene III. _Juliet's Chamber_
_Enter_ JULIET _and_ Nurse
_Juliet._ Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night,
For I have need of many orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
_Enter_ LADY CAPULET
_Lady Capulet._ What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?
_Juliet._ No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow.
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you; 10
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all
In this so sudden business.
_Lady Capulet._ Good night;
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
[_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._
_Juliet._ Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins
That almost freezes up the heat of life;
I'll call them back again to comfort me.--
Nurse!--What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.--
Come, vial.-- 20
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?
No, no!--this shall forbid it.--Lie thou there.--
[_Laying down a dagger._
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is; and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 30
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,--
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where for these many hundred years the bones 40
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort;--
Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
That living mortals hearing them run mad;--
O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears? 50
And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?--
O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier's point.--Stay, Tybalt, stay!--
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
[_She throws herself on the bed._
SCENE IV. _Hall in Capulet's House_
_Enter_ LADY CAPULET _and_ Nurse
_Lady Capulet._ Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse.
_Nurse._ They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
_Enter_ CAPULET
_Capulet._ Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock.--
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica;
Spare not for cost.
_Nurse._ Go, you cot-quean, go,
Get you to bed; faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching.
_Capulet._ No, not a whit. What! I have watch' ere now
All night for lesser cause and ne'er been sick. 10
_Lady Capulet._ Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time,
But I will watch you from such watching now.
[_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._
_Capulet._ A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!--
_Enter three or four_ Servingmen, _with spits, logs, and baskets_
Now, fellow,
What's there?
_1 Servant._ Things for the cook, sir, but I know not what.
_Capulet._ Make haste, make haste.--[_Exit Servant._]
Sirrah, fetch drier logs;
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
_2 Servant._ I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
And never trouble Peter for the matter. [_Exit._
_Capulet._ Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!
Thou shalt be logger-head.--Good faith, 'tis day; 21
The county will be here with music straight,
For so he said he would. I hear him near.-- [_Music within._
Nurse!--Wife!--What, ho!--What, nurse, I say!
_Re-enter_ Nurse
Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;
I'll go and chat with Paris.--Hie, make haste,
Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already;
Make haste, I say. [_Exeunt._
SCENE V. _Juliet's Chamber_
_Enter_ Nurse
_Nurse._ Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she.--
Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!
Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!
What, not a word?--How sound is she asleep!
I needs must wake her.--Madam, madam, madam!
Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
He'll fright you up, i' faith.--Will it not be?
[_Undraws the curtains._
What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!
I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady!--
Alas, alas!--Help, help! my lady's dead!-- 10
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!--
Some aqua vitæ, ho!--My lord! my lady!
_Enter_ LADY CAPULET
_Lady Capulet._ What noise is here?
_Nurse._ O lamentable day!
_Lady Capulet._ What is the matter?
_Nurse._ Look, look! O heavy day!
_Lady Capulet._ O me, O me! My child, my only life,
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!--
Help, help! Call help.
_Enter_ CAPULET
_Capulet._ For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.
_Nurse._ She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!
_Lady Capulet._ Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! 20
_Capulet._ Ha! let me see her. Out, alas! she's cold;
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated.
Death lies on her like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
_Nurse._ O lamentable day!
_Lady Capulet._ O woful time!
_Capulet._ Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak.
_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE _and_ PARIS _with_ Musicians
_Friar Laurence._ Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
_Capulet._ Ready to go, but never to return.-- 30
O son! the night before thy wedding-day
Hath Death lain with thy wife. See, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded. I will die,
And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.
_Paris._ Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?
_Lady Capulet._ Accurst, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
Most miserable hour that e'er time saw 40
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!
_Nurse._ O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day, most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this!
O woful day, O woful day! 50
_Paris._ Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable Death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
_Capulet._ Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now
To murther, murther our solemnity?--
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried. 60
_Friar Laurence._ Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid.
Your part in her you could not keep from death,
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion,
For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd;
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? 70
O, in this love you love your child so ill
That you run mad seeing that she is well;
She's not well married that lives married long,
But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse, and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church;
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
_Capulet._ All things that we ordained festival 80
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
_Friar Laurence._ Sir, go you in,--and, madam, go with him;--
And go, Sir Paris;--every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
The heavens do lower upon you for some ill; 90
Move them no more by crossing their high will.
[_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar._
_1 Musician._ Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.
_Nurse._ Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up;
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [_Exit._
_1 Musician._ Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
_Enter_ PETER
_Peter._ Musicians, O musicians, 'Heart's ease,
Heart's ease'; O, an you will have me live, play
'Heart's ease.'
_1 Musician._ Why 'Heart's ease'?
_Peter._ O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 100
'My heart is full of woe.' O, play me some merry
dump, to comfort me.
_1 Musician._ Not a dump we; 'tis no time to
play now.
_Peter._ You will not, then?
_1 Musician._ No.
_Peter._ I will then give it you soundly.
_1 Musician._ What will you give us?
_Peter._ No money, on my faith, but the gleek; I will give you the
minstrel. 110
_1 Musician._ Then will I give you the
serving-creature.
_Peter._ Then will I lay the serving-creature's
dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets; I'll
re you, I'll fa you; do you note me?
_1 Musician._ An you re us and fa us, you note
us.
_2 Musician._ Pray you, put up your dagger, and
put out your wit.
_Peter._ Then have at you with my wit! I will 120
drybeat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron
dagger. Answer me like men:
'When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music with her silver sound'--
why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver
sound'?--What say you, Simon Catling?
_1 Musician._ Marry, sir, because silver hath a
sweet sound.
_Peter._ Pretty!--What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 130
_2 Musician._ I say 'silver sound,' because musicians
sound for silver.
_Peter._ Pretty too!--What say you, James Soundpost?
_3 Musician._ Faith, I know not what to say.
_Peter._ O, I cry you mercy, you are the singer; I
will say for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'
because musicians have no gold for sounding.
'Then music with her silver sound
With speedy help doth lend redress.' [_Exit._
_1 Musician._ What a pestilent knave is this same! 141
_2 Musician._ Hang him, Jack!--Come, we'll in
here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [_Exeunt._
[Illustration: TOMB OF THE SCALIGERS, VERONA]
ACT V
SCENE I. _Mantua. A Street_
_Enter_ ROMEO
_Romeo._ If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne,
And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--
Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!--
And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips
That I reviv'd and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, 10
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!--
_Enter_ BALTHASAR
News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar!
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet? that I ask again,
For nothing can be ill if she be well.
_Balthasar._ Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capel's monument
And her immortal part with angels lives.
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault 20
And presently took post to tell it you.
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
_Romeo._ Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!--
Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses. I will hence to-night.
_Balthasar._ I do beseech you, sir, have patience;
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.
_Romeo._ Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do. 30
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
_Balthasar._ No, my good lord.
_Romeo._ No matter; get thee gone
And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight.--
[_Exit Balthasar._
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means.--O mischief, thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary,--
And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples. Meagre were his looks, 40
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said,
An if a man did need a poison now, 50
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need,
And this same needy man must sell it me!
As I remember, this should be the house.
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.--
What, ho! apothecary!
_Enter_ Apothecary
_Apothecary._ Who calls so loud?
_Romeo._ Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor.
Hold, there is forty ducats; let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear 60
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
_Apothecary._ Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them.
_Romeo._ Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, 70
Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back,
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law;
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it and take this.
_Apothecary._ My poverty, but not my will, consents.
_Romeo._ I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
_Apothecary._ Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
_Romeo._ There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, 80
Doing more murthers in this loathsome world
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.--
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
_Enter_ FRIAR JOHN
_Friar John._ Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE
_Friar Laurence._ This same should be the voice of Friar John.--
Welcome from Mantua; what says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
_Friar John._ Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order, to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign, 10
Seal'd up the doors and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
_Friar Laurence._ Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
_Friar John._ I could not send it,--here it is again,--
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
_Friar Laurence._ Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge
Of dear import, and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; 20
Get me an iron crow and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
_Friar John._ Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [_Exit._
_Friar Laurence._ Now must I to the monument alone;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake.
She will beshrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come.
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [_Exit._
SCENE III. _A Churchyard; in it a Tomb belonging to the Capulets_
_Enter_ PARIS, _and his_ Page _bearing flowers and a torch_
_Paris._ Give me thy torch, boy; hence, and stand aloof;
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
But thou shalt hear it; whistle then to me
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
_Page._ [_Aside_] I am almost afraid to stand alone 10
Here in the churchyard, yet I will adventure. [_Retires._
_Paris._ Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew.
O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans;
The obsequies that I for thee will keep
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.--
[_The Page whistles._
The boy gives warning something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? 20
What, with a torch!--muffle me, night, awhile.
[_Retires._
_Enter_ ROMEO _and_ BALTHASAR, _with a torch, mattock, etc_.
_Romeo._ Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death
Is partly to behold my lady's face,
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger 30
A precious ring, a ring that I must use
In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone;
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs.
The time and my intents are savage-wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
_Balthasar._ I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 40
_Romeo._ So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that.
Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
_Balthasar._ [_Aside_] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [_Retires._
_Romeo._ Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!
[_Opens the tomb._
_Paris._ This is that banish'd haughty Montague
That murther'd my love's cousin,--with which grief, 50
It is supposed, the fair creature died,--
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies; I will apprehend him.--
[_Advances._
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee.
Obey, and go with me, for thou must die.
_Romeo._ I must indeed, and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man.
Fly hence, and leave me; think upon these gone, 60
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury; O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself.
Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
_Paris._ I do defy thy conjurations
And apprehend thee for a felon here. 69
_Romeo._ Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!
[They fight.
_Page._ O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. [_Exit._
_Paris._ O, I am slain!--[_Falls._] If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [_Dies._
_Romeo._ In faith, I will.--Let me peruse this face.
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
What said my man when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think
He told me Paris should have married Juliet;
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 80
To think it was so?--O, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,--
A grave? O, no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth;
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.--
[_Laying Paris in the tomb._
How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry! which their keepers call
A lightning before death; O, how may I 90
Call this a lightning?--O my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.--
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favour can I do to thee
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
To sunder his that was thine enemy? 100
Forgive me, cousin!--Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
That unsubstantial Death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee,
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again. Here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest, 110
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.--Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!--
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love! [_Drinks._]--O true apothecary! 119
Thy drugs are quick.--Thus with a kiss I die. [_Dies._
_Enter_, _at the other end of the churchyard_, FRIAR LAURENCE, _with a
lantern_, _crow_, _and spade_
_Friar Laurence._ Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves!--Who's there?
_Balthasar._ Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
_Friar Laurence._ Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
What torch is yond that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.
_Balthasar._ It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
One that you love.
_Friar Laurence._ Who is it?
_Balthasar._ Romeo. 129
_Friar Laurence._ How long hath he been there?
_Balthasar._ Full half an hour.
_Friar Laurence._ Go with me to the vault.
_Balthasar._ I dare not, sir;
My master knows not but I am gone hence,
And fearfully did menace me with death
If I did stay to look on his intents.
_Friar Laurence._ Stay, then; I 'll go alone.--Fear comes upon me;
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing!
_Balthasar._ As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him. [_Exit._
_Friar Laurence._ Romeo!-- [_Advances._
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains 140
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?--
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?--
[_Enters the tomb._
Romeo! O, pale!--Who else? what, Paris too?
And steep'd in blood?--Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!--
The lady stirs. [_Juliet wakes._
_Juliet._ O comfortable friar! where is my lord?--
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am.--Where is my Romeo? 150
[_Noise within._
_Friar Laurence._ I hear some noise.--Lady, come from that nest
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead,
And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns.
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet. [_Noise again._]--I dare no longer stay.
_Juliet._ Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. 160
[_Exit Friar Laurence._
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.--
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after?--I will kiss thy lips;
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative. [_Kisses him._
Thy lips are warm.
_1 Watch._ [_Within_] Lead, boy; which way?
_Juliet._ Yea, noise? then I'll be brief.--O happy dagger!
[_Snatching Romeo's dagger._
This is thy sheath [_Stabs herself_]; there rest, and let me die.
[_Falls on Romeo's body, and dies._
_Enter_ Watch, _with the_ Page _of_ PARIS
_Page._ This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. 171
_1 Watch._ The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard.
Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.-- [_Exeunt some._
Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;
And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried.--
Go, tell the prince;--run to the Capulets;--
Raise up the Montagues;--some others search.--
[_Exeunt other Watchmen._
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes 180
We cannot without circumstance descry.
_Re-enter some of the_ Watch, _with_ BALTHASAR
_2 Watch._ Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.
_1 Watch._ Hold him in safety till the prince come hither.
_Re-enter others of the_ Watch, _with_ FRIAR LAURENCE
_3 Watch._ Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps.
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
As he was coming from this churchyard side.
_1 Watch._ A great suspicion; stay the friar too.
_Enter the_ PRINCE _and_ Attendants
_Prince._ What misadventure is so early up
That calls our person from our morning's rest?
_Enter_ CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, _and others_
_Capulet._ What should it be that they so shriek abroad? 190
_Lady Capulet._ The people in the street cry Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all run
With open outcry toward our monument.
_Prince._ What fear is this which startles in our ears?
_1 Watch._ Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
Warm and new kill'd.
_Prince._ Search, seek, and know how this foul murther comes.
_1 Watch._ Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man,
With instruments upon them fit to open 200
These dead men's tombs.
_Capulet._ O heaven!--O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mista'en,--for, lo, his house
Is empty on the back of Montague,--
And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!
_Lady Capulet._ O me! this sight of death is as a bell
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
_Enter_ MONTAGUE _and others_
_Prince._ Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir more early down.
_Montague._ Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; 210
Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath.
What further woe conspires against mine age?
_Prince._ Look, and thou shalt see.
_Montague._ O thou untaught! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave?
_Prince._ Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
And then will I be general of your woes
And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, 220
And let mischance be slave to patience.--
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
_Friar Laurence._ I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murther;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excus'd.
_Prince._ Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
_Friar Laurence._ I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 230
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife.
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city,
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
To County Paris; then comes she to me,
And with wild looks bid me devise some means 240
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion, which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death; meantime I writ to Romeo
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 250
Was stay'd by accident and yesternight
Return'd my letter back. Then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault,
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo;
But when I came, some minute ere the time
Of her awaking, here untimely lay
The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I entreated her come forth 260
And bear this work of heaven with patience;
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb,
And she too desperate would not go with me,
But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
All this I know, and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy; and, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd some hour before his time
Unto the rigour of severest law.
_Prince._ We still have known thee for a holy man.--
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? 271
_Balthasar._ I brought my master news of Juliet's death,
And then in post he came from Mantua
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father,
And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not and left him there.
_Prince._ Give me the letter; I will look on it.--
Where is the county's page that rais'd the watch?--
Sirrah, what made your master in this place? 280
_Page._ He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did.
Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb,
And by and by my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch.
_Prince._ This letter doth make good the friar's words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death;
And here he writes that he did buy a poison
Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die and lie with Juliet.-- 290
Where be these enemies?--Capulet!--Montague!
See, what a scourge is aid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen; all are punish'd.
_Capulet._ O brother Montague, give me thy hand;
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.
_Montague._ But I can give thee more;
For I will raise her statue in pure gold,
That while Verona by that name is known 300
There shall no figure at such rate be set
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
_Capulet._ As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie,
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd and some punished;
For never was a story of more woe 309
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [_Exeunt._
NOTES [Illustration: THE NURSE AND PETER]
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
THE METRE OF THE PLAY.--It should be understood at the outset that
_metre_, or the mechanism of verse, is something altogether distinct
from the _music_ of verse. The one is matter of rule, the other of taste
and feeling. Music is not an absolute necessity of verse; the metrical
form is a necessity, being that which constitutes the verse.
The plays of Shakespeare (with the exception of rhymed passages, and of
occasional songs and interludes) are all in unrhymed or _blank_ verse;
and the normal form of this blank verse is illustrated by the second
line of the prologue to the present play: "In fair Verona, where we lay
our scene."
This line, it will be seen, consists of ten syllables, with the even
syllables (2d, 4th, 6th, 8th, and 10th) accented, the odd syllables
(1st, 3d, etc.) being unaccented. Theoretically, it is made up of five
_feet_ of two syllables each, with the accent on the second syllable.
Such a foot is called an _iambus_ (plural, _iambuses_, or the Latin
_iambi_), and the form of verse is called _iambic_.
This fundamental law of Shakespeare's verse is subject to certain
modifications, the most important of which are as follows:--
1. After the tenth syllable an unaccented syllable (or even two such
syllables) may be added, forming what is sometimes called a _female_
line; as in the 103d line of the first scene: "Here were the servants of
your adversary." The rhythm is complete with the third syllable of
_adversary_, the fourth being an extra eleventh syllable. In iv. 3. 27
and v. 3. 256 we have two extra syllables,--the last two of _Romeo_ in
both lines.
2. The accent in any part of the verse may be shifted from an even to an
odd syllable; as in line 3 of the prologue, "From ancient grudge break
to new mutiny," where the accent is shifted from the sixth to the fifth
syllable. See also i. 1. 92: "Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd
hate;" where the accent is shifted from the second to the first
syllable. This change occurs very rarely in the tenth syllable, and
seldom in the fourth; and it is not allowable in two successive accented
syllables.
3. An extra unaccented syllable may occur in any part of the line; as in
line 7 of the prologue, where the second syllable of _piteous_ is
superfluous. In i. 1. 64 the third syllable of _Benvolio_, and in line
71 below the second syllable of _Capulets_ and the second _the_ are both
superfluous.
4. Any unaccented syllable, occurring in an even place immediately
before or after an even syllable which is properly accented, is reckoned
as accented for the purposes of the verse; as, for instance, in lines 1,
3, and 7 of the prologue. In 1 the last syllable of _dignity_ and in 3
the last of _mutiny_ are metrically equivalent to accented syllables. In
7 the same is true of the first syllable of _misadventur'd_ and the
third of _overthrows_. In iv. 2. 18 ("Of disobedient opposition") only
two regular accents occur, but we have a metrical accent on the first
syllable of _disobedient_, and on the first and the last syllables of
_opposition_, which word has metrically five syllables. In _disobedient_
there is an extra unaccented syllable.
5. In many instances in Shakespeare words must be _lengthened_ in order
to fill out the rhythm:--
(_a_) In a large class of words in which _e_ or _i_ is followed by
another vowel, the _e_ or _i_ is made a separate syllable; as _ocean_,
_opinion_, _soldier_, _patience_, _partial_, _marriage_, etc. For
instance, iii. 5. 29 ("Some say the lark makes sweet division") appears
to have only nine syllables, but _division_ is a quadrisyllable; and so
is _devotion_ in iv. 1. 41: "God shield I should disturb devotion!"
_Marriage_ is a trisyllable in iv. 1. 11, and also in v. 3. 241; and the
same is true of _patience_ in v. 1. 27 v. 1. 27, v. 3. 221 and 261. This
lengthening occurs most frequently at the end of the line.
(_b_) Many monosyllables ending in _r_, _re_, _rs_, _res_, preceded by a
long vowel or diphthong, are often made dissyllables; as _fare_, _fear_,
_dear_, _fire_, _hair_, _hour_, _your_, etc. In iii. 1. 198: "Else, when
he's found, that hour is his last," _hour_ is a dissyllable. If the word
is repeated in a verse it is often both monosyllable and dissyllable; as
in _M. of V._ iii. 2. 20: "And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it
so," where either _yours_ (preferably the first) is a dissyllable, the
other being a monosyllable. In _J.C._ iii. 1. 172: "As fire drives fire,
so pity, pity," the first _fire_ is a dissyllable.
(_c_) Words containing _l_ or _r_, preceded by another consonant, are
often pronounced as if a vowel came between the consonants; as in i. 4.
8: "After the prompter, at our entrance" [ent(e)rance]. See also _T. of
S._ ii. 1. 158: "While she did call me rascal fiddler" [fidd(e)ler];
_All's Well_, iii. 5. 43: "If you will tarry, holy pilgrim"
[pilg(e)rim]; _C. of E._ v. 1. 360: "These are the parents of these
children" (childeren, the original form of the word); _W.T._ iv. 4. 76:
"Grace and remembrance [rememb(e)rance] be to you both!" etc. See also
on ii. 4. 184 and iii. 1. 89 below.
(_d_) Monosyllabic exclamations (_ay_, _O_, _yea_, _nay_, _hail_, etc.)
and monosyllables otherwise emphasized are similarly lengthened; also
certain longer words; as _commandement_ in _M. of V._ iv. 1. 442;
_safety_ (trisyllable) in _Ham_. i. 3. 21; _business_ (trisyllable, as
originally pronounced) in _J.C._ iv. 1. 22: "To groan and sweat under
the business" (so in several other passages); and other words mentioned
in the notes to the plays in which they occur.
6. Words are also _contracted_ for metrical reasons, like plurals and
possessives ending in a sibilant, as _balance_, _horse_ (for _horses_
and _horse's_), _princess_, _sense_, _marriage_ (plural and possessive),
_image_, etc. So _spirit_, _inter'gatories_, _unpleasant'st_, and other
words mentioned in the notes on the plays.
7. The _accent_ of words is also varied in many instances for metrical
reasons. Thus we find both _révenue_ and _revénue_ in the first scene of
the _M.N.D._ (lines 6 and 158), _óbscure_ and _obscúre_, _púrsue_ and
_pursúe_, _cóntrary_ (see note on iii. 2. 64) and _contráry_, _contráct_
(see on ii. 2. 117) and _cóntract_, etc.
These instances of variable accent must not be confounded with those in
which words were uniformly accented differently in the time of
Shakespeare; like _aspéct_, _impórtune_ (see on i. 1. 142), _perséver_
(never _persevére_), _perséverance_, _rheúmatic_, etc.
8. _Alexandrines_, or verses of twelve syllables, with six accents,
occur here and there; as in the inscriptions on the caskets in _M. of
V._, and occasionally in this play. They must not be confounded with
female lines with two extra syllables (see on 1 above) or with other
lines in which two extra unaccented syllables may occur.
9. _Incomplete_ verses, of one or more syllables, are scattered through
the plays. See i. 1. 61, 69, 162, 163, 164, 198, etc.
10. _Doggerel_ measure is used in the very earliest comedies (_L. L. L._
and _C. of E._ in particular) in the mouths of comic characters, but
nowhere else in those plays, and never anywhere after 1597 or 1598.
There is no instance of it in this play.
11. _Rhyme_ occurs frequently in the early plays, but diminishes with
comparative regularity from that period until the latest. Thus, in
_L. L. L._ there are about 1100 rhyming verses (about one-third of the
whole number), in the _M.N.D._ about 900, and in _Rich. II._ about 500,
while in _Cor._ and _A. and C._ there are only about 40 each, in the
_Temp._ only two, and in the _W.T._ none at all, except in the chorus
introducing act iv. Songs, interludes, and other matter not in
ten-syllable measure are not included in this enumeration. In the
present play, out of about 2500 ten-syllable verses, nearly 500 are in
rhyme.
_Alternate_ rhymes are found only in the plays written before 1599 or
1600. In the _M. of V._ there are only four lines at the end of iii. 2.
In _Much Ado_ and _A.Y.L._, we also find a few lines, but none at all in
subsequent plays. Examples in this play are the prologue, the chorus at
the beginning of act ii., and the last speech of act. v. See also
passages in i. 2, i. 5, and v. 3.
_Rhymed couplets_ or "rhyme-tags" are often found at the end of scenes;
as in the first scene, and eleven other scenes, of the present play. In
_Ham._ 14 out of 20 scenes, and in _Macb._ 21 out of 28, have such
"tags"; but in the latest plays they are not so frequent. The _Temp_.,
for instance, has but one, and the _W.T._ none.
12. In this edition of Shakespeare, the final _-ed_ of past tenses and
participles is printed _-'d_ when the word is to be pronounced in the
ordinary way; as in _star-cross'd_, line 6, and _misadventur'd_, line 7,
of the prologue. But when the metre requires that the _-ed_ be made a
separate syllable, the _e_ is retained; as in _moved_, line 85, of the
first scene, where the word is a dissyllable. The only variation from
this rule is in verbs like _cry_, _die_, _sue_, etc., the _-ed_ of which
is very rarely made a separate syllable.
SHAKESPEARE'S USE OF VERSE AND PROSE IN THE PLAYS.--This is a subject to
which the critics have given very little attention, but it is an
interesting study. In this play we find scenes entirely in verse (none
entirely in prose) and others in which the two are mixed. In general, we
may say that verse is used for what is distinctly poetical, and prose
for what is not poetical. The distinction, however, is not so clearly
marked in the earlier as in the later plays. The second scene of the _M.
of V._, for instance, is in prose, because Portia and Nerissa are
talking about the suitors in a familiar and playful way; but in the
_T.G. of V._, where Julia and Lucetta are discussing the suitors of the
former in much the same fashion, the scene is in verse. Dowden,
commenting on _Rich. II._, remarks: "Had Shakespeare written the play a
few years later, we may be certain that the gardener and his servants
(iii. 4) would not have uttered stately speeches in verse, but would
have spoken homely prose, and that humour would have mingled with the
pathos of the scene. The same remark may be made with reference to the
subsequent scene (v. 5) in which his groom visits the dethroned king in
the Tower." Comic characters and those in low life generally speak in
prose in the later plays, as Dowden intimates, but in the very earliest
ones doggerel verse is much used instead. See on 10 above.
The change from prose to verse is well illustrated in the third scene of
the _M. of V._ It begins with plain prosaic talk about a business
matter; but when Antonio enters, it rises at once to the higher level of
poetry. The sight of Antonio reminds Shylock of his hatred of the
Merchant, and the passion expresses itself in verse, the vernacular
tongue of poetry. We have a similar change in the first scene of _J.C._,
where, after the quibbling "chaff" of the mechanics about their trades,
the mention of Pompey reminds the Tribune of their plebeian fickleness,
and his scorn and indignation flame out in most eloquent verse.
The reasons for the choice of prose or verse are not always so clear as
in these instances. We are seldom puzzled to explain the prose, but not
unfrequently we meet with verse where we might expect prose. As
Professor Corson remarks (_Introduction to Shakespeare_, 1889),
"Shakespeare adopted verse as the general tenor of his language, and
therefore expressed much in verse that is within the capabilities of
prose; in other words, his verse constantly encroaches upon the domain
of prose, but his prose can never be said to encroach upon the domain of
verse." If in rare instances we think we find exceptions to this latter
statement, and prose actually seems to usurp the place of verse, I
believe that careful study of the passage will prove the supposed
exception to be apparent rather than real.
SOME BOOKS FOR TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.--A few out of the many books that
might be commended to the teacher and the critical student are the
following: Halliwell-Phillipps's _Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare_
(7th ed. 1887); Sidney Lee's _Life of Shakespeare_ (1898; for ordinary
students the abridged ed. of 1899 is preferable); Schmidt's _Shakespeare
Lexicon_ (3d ed. 1902); Littledale's ed. of Dyce's _Glossary_ (1902);
Bartlett's _Concordance to Shakespeare_ (1895); Abbott's _Shakespearian
Grammar_ (1873); Furness's "New Variorum" ed. of _Romeo and Juliet_
(1871; encyclopædic and exhaustive); Dowden's _Shakspere: His Mind and
Art_ (American ed. 1881); Hudson's _Life, Art, and Characters of
Shakespeare_ (revised ed. 1882); Mrs. Jameson's _Characteristics of
Women_ (several eds., some with the title, _Shakespeare Heroines_); Ten
Brink's _Five Lectures on Shakespeare_ (1895); Boas's _Shakespeare and
His Predecessors_ (1895); Dyer's _Folk-lore of Shakespeare_ (American
ed. 1884); Gervinus's _Shakespeare Commentaries_ (Bunnett's translation,
1875); Wordsworth's Shakespeare's _Knowledge of the Bible_ (3d ed.
1880); Elson's _Shakespeare in Music_ (1901).
Some of the above books will be useful to all readers who are interested
in special subjects or in general criticism of Shakespeare. Among those
which are better suited to the needs of ordinary readers and students,
the following may be mentioned: Mabie's _William Shakespeare: Poet,
Dramatist, and Man_ (1900); Phin's _Cyclopædia and Glossary of
Shakespeare_ (1902; more compact and cheaper than Dyce); Dowden's
_Shakspere Primer_ (1877; small but invaluable); Rolfe's _Shakespeare
the Boy_ (1896; treating of the home and school life, the games and
sports, the manners, customs, and folk-lore of the poet's time);
Guerber's _Myths of Greece and Rome_ (for young students who may need
information on mythological allusions not explained in the notes).
Black's _Judith Shakespeare_ (1884; a novel, but a careful study of the
scene and the time) is a book that I always commend to young people, and
their elders will also enjoy it. The Lambs' _Tales from Shakespeare_ is
a classic for beginners in the study of the dramatist; and in Rolfe's
ed. the plan of the authors is carried out in the Notes by copious
illustrative quotations from the plays. Mrs. Cowden-Clarke's _Girlhood
of Shakespeare's Heroines_ (several eds.) will particularly interest
girls; and both girls and boys will find Bennett's _Master Skylark_
(1897) and Imogen Clark's _Will Shakespeare's Little Lad_ (1897) equally
entertaining and instructive.
H. Snowden Ward's _Shakespeare's Town and Times_ (2d ed. 1903) and John
Leyland's _Shakespeare Country_ (enlarged ed. 1903) are copiously
illustrated books (yet inexpensive) which may be particularly commended
for school libraries.
ABBREVIATIONS IN THE NOTES.--The abbreviations of the names of
Shakespeare's plays will be readily understood; as _T.N._ for _Twelfth
Night_, _Cor._ for _Coriolanus_, _3 Hen. VI._ for _The Third Part of
King Henry the Sixth_, etc. _P.P._ refers to _The Passionate Pilgrim_;
_V. and A._ to _Venus and Adonis_; _L.C._ to _Lover's Complaint_; and
Sonn. to the _Sonnets_.
Other abbreviations that hardly need explanation are _Cf._ (_confer_,
compare), _Fol._ (following), _Id._ (_idem_, the same), and _Prol._
(prologue). The numbers of the lines in the references (except for the
present play) are those of the "Globe" edition (the cheapest and best
edition of _Shakespeare_ in one compact volume), which is now generally
accepted as the standard for line-numbers in works of reference
(Schmidt's _Lexicon_, Abbott's _Grammar_, Dowden's _Primer_, the
publications of the New Shakspere Society, etc.). Every teacher and
every critical student should have it at hand for reference.
PROLOGUE
_Enter Chorus._ As Malone suggests, this probably meant only that the
prologue was to be spoken by the same actor that personated the chorus
at the end of act i. The prologue is omitted in the folio, but we cannot
doubt that it was written by S. It is in form a sonnet, of the pattern
adopted in his _Sonnets_. See comments upon it, p. 22 above.
2. _Fair Verona._ The city is thus described in the opening lines of
Brooke's poem:[4]--
"There is beyonde the Alps, a towne of auncient fame
Whose bright renoune yet shineth cleare, Verona men it name:
Bylt in an happy time, bylt on a fertile soyle:
Maynteined by the heauenly fates, and by the townish toyle.
The fruitefull hilles aboue, the pleasant vales belowe,
The siluer streame with chanell depe, that through the towne doth flow:
The store of springes that serue for vse, and eke for ease:
And other moe commodities, which profite may and please;
Eke many certaine signes of thinges betyde of olde,
To fyll the houngry eyes of those that curiously beholde:
Doe make this towne to be preferde aboue the rest
Of Lumbard townes, or at the least compared with the best."
6. _Star-cross'd._ For the astrological allusion, cf. i. 4. 104, v. 1.
24, and v. 3. 111 below. The title of one of Richard Braithwaite's
works, published in 1615, is "Love's Labyrinth: or the True Lover's
Knot, including the disastrous falls of two Star-crost lovers Pyramus
and Thisbe."
8. _Doth._ The reading of the quartos, changed by most of the modern
editors to "Do." Ulrici considers it the old third person plural in
-_th_. He adds that S. mostly uses it only where it has the force of
the singular, namely, where the sense is collective, as in _overthrows_
here. Cf. v. 1. 70 below.
12. _Two hours._ Cf. _Hen. VIII._ prol. 13: "may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours."
[Footnote 4: The entire poem is reprinted in the _Variorum_ of 1821, in
Collier's _Shakespeare's Library_ (and Hazlitt's revised ed. of the
same), in Halliwell-Phillipps's folio ed. of Shakespeare, and by the New
Shakspere Society (edited by P.A. Daniel) in 1875. I have followed
Daniel's ed.]
ACT I
SCENE I.--1. _Carry coals._ "Endure affronts" (Johnson). According to
Nares, the phrase got this meaning from the fact that the carriers of
wood and coals were esteemed the very lowest of menials. Cf. _Hen. V._
iii. 2. 49, where there is a play upon the expression. Steevens quotes
Nash, _Have With You_, etc.: "We will bear no coles, I warrant you;"
Marston, _Antonio and Mellida_, part ii.: "He has had wrongs; and if I
were he I would bear no coles," etc. Dyce cites Cotgrave, _Fr. Dict._:
"_Il a du feu en la teste_. Hee is very chollericke, furious, or
couragious; he will carrie no coales." He might have added from
Sherwood's English-French supplement to Cotgrave (ed. 1632): "That will
carrie no coales, _Brave_."
3. _Colliers._ The preceding note explains how _colliers_ came to be a
term of abuse. The _New Eng. Dict._ adds that it may have been due to
"the evil repute of the collier for cheating." Steevens compares _T.N._
iii. 4. 130: "hang him, foul collier!"
4. _Choler._ For the play upon the word, cf. Jonson, _Every Man in his
Humour_, iii. 2:--
"_Cash._ Why, how now, Cob? what moves thee to this cholar, ha?
_Cob._ Collar, master Thomas? I scorn your collar, I sir; I am none
of your cart-horse, though I carry and draw water."
15. _Take the wall._ Claim the right of passing next the wall when
meeting a person on the street; a right valued in old-fashioned streets
with narrow sidewalks or none at all. To _give the wall_ was an act of
courtesy; to _take the wall_ might be an insult.
17. _The weakest goes to the wall._ A familiar proverb.
28. _Here comes two_, etc. Halliwell-Phillipps remarks that the
partisans of the Montagues wore a token in their hats to distinguish
them from the Capulets; hence throughout the play they are known at a
distance. Cf. Gascoigne, _Devise of a Masque, written for Viscount
Montacute_, 1575:--
"And for a further proofe, he shewed in hys hat
Thys token which the _Mountacutes_ did beare alwaies, for that
They covet to be knowne from _Capels_, where they pass,
For ancient grutch whych long ago 'tweene these two houses was."
39. _I will bite my thumb at them._ An insult explained by Cotgrave,
_Fr. Dict._ (ed. 1632): "_Nique, faire la nique_, to threaten or defie,
by putting the thumbe naile into the mouth, and with a ierke (from th'
upper teeth) make it to knocke."
44. _Of our side._ On our side (_on = of_, as often).
55. _Here comes one_, etc. "Gregory may mean Tybalt, who enters directly
after Benvolio, but on a different part of the stage. The eyes of the
servant may be directed the way he sees Tybalt coming, and in the mean
time Benvolio enters on the opposite side" (Steevens).
60. _Swashing blow._ A dashing or smashing blow (Schmidt). Cf. Jonson,
_Staple of News_, v. 1: "I do confess a swashing blow." Cf. also _swash_
= bully, bluster; as in _A.Y.L._ i. 3. 122: "I'll have a martial and a
swashing outside."
63. _Art thou drawn?_ Cf. _Temp._ ii. 1. 308: "Why are you drawn?"
_Heartless_ = cowardly, spiritless; as in _R. of L._ 471, 1392.
69. _Have at thee._ Cf. iv. 5. 119 below; also _C. of E._ iii. 1. 51,
etc.
70. _Clubs._ The cry of _Clubs_! in a street affray is of English
origin, as the _bite my thumb_ is of Italian. It was the rallying-cry of
the London apprentices. Cf. _Hen. VIII._ v. 4. 53, _A.Y.L._ v. 2. 44,
etc. _Bills_ were the pikes or halberds formerly carried by the English
infantry and afterwards by watchmen. The _partisan_ was "a sharp
two-edged sword placed on the summit of a staff for the defence of
foot-soldiers against cavalry" (Fairholt). Cf. _Ham._ i. 1. 140: "Shall
I strike at it with my partisan?"
71. _Enter_ CAPULET _in his gown_. Cf. _Ham._ (quarto) iii. 4. 61:
"_Enter the ghost in his night gowne_;" that is, his dressing-gown. See
also _Macb._ ii. 2. 70: "Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us
And show us to be watchers;" and _Id._ v. 1. 5: "I have seen her rise
from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her," etc. It is early morning,
and Capulet comes out before he is dressed.
72. _Long sword._ The weapon used in active warfare; a lighter and
shorter one being worn for ornament (see _A.W._ ii. 1. 32: "no sword
worn But one to dance with"). Cf. _M.W._ ii. 1. 236: "with my long sword
I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats."
73. _A crutch, a crutch!_ The lady's sneer at her aged husband. For her
own age, see on i. 3. 51 below.
75. _In spite._ In scornful defiance. Cf. 3 _Hen. VI._ i. 3. 158,
_Cymb._ iv. 1. 16, etc.
79. _Neighbour-stained._ Because used in civil strife.
84. _Mistemper'd._ Tempered to an ill end (Schmidt). Steevens explains
it as = angry. The word occurs again in _K. John_, v. 1. 12: "This
inundation of mistemper'd humour."
85. _Moved._ That is, "mov'd to wrath" (_T.A._ i. 1. 419). Cf. _L. L. L._
v. 2. 694, _J.C._ iv. 3. 58, etc.
89. _Ancient._ Not of necessity old in years, but long settled there and
accustomed to peace and order (Delius).
90. _Grave beseeming_. Grave and becoming. Cf. _Ham._ iv. 7. 79:--
"for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
Importing health and graveness."
92. _Canker'd with peace_, etc. _Canker'd_ (= corroded) is applied
literally to the partisans long disused, and figuratively to their
owners. Cf. _K. John_, ii. 1. 194: "A canker'd grandam's will."
99. _Freetown._ S. takes the name from Brooke's poem. It translates the
_Villa Franca_ of the Italian story.
101. S. uses _set abroach_ only in a bad sense. Cf. 2 _Hen. IV._ iv. 2.
14: "Alack, what mischiefs might be set abroach;" and _Rich. III._ i. 3.
325: "The secret mischiefs that I set abroach."
109. _Nothing hurt withal._ Nowise harmed by it. _Who_ = which; as
often.
110. _While we_, etc. This line, with the change of _we_ to _they_, is
found in the 1st quarto in iii. 1, where Benvolio describes the brawl in
which Mercutio and Tybalt are slain (Daniel).
113. _Saw you him to-day?_ This use of the past tense is not allowable
now, but was common in Elizabethan English. Cf. _Cymb._ iv. 2. 66: "I
saw him not these many years," etc.
115. _The worshipp'd sun._ Cf. iii. 2. 25 below: "And pay no worship to
the garish sun." See also _Lear_, i. 1. 111: "the sacred radiance of the
sun;" and _Cymb._ iv. 4. 41: "the holy sun." It is remarkable that no
German commentator has tried to make S. a Parsee.
116. _Forth._ Cf. _M.N.D._ i. 1. 164: "Steal forth thy father's house,"
etc.
118. _Sycamore._ According to Beisly and Ellacombe, the _Acer
pseudo-platanus_, which grows wild in Italy. It had been introduced into
England before the time of S. He mentions it also in _L. L. L._ v. 2. 89
and _Oth._ iv. 3. 41.
119. _Rooteth._ Cf. _W.T._ i. 1. 25: "there rooted betwixt them such an
affection," etc.
121. _Ware._ Aware; but not to be printed as a contraction of that word.
Cf. ii. 2. 103 below.
123. _Affections._ Feelings, inclinations. Cf. _Ham._ iii. 1. 170:
"Love! his affections do not that way tend," etc.
124. _Which then_, etc. "The plain meaning seems to be that Benvolio,
like Romeo, was indisposed for society, and sought to be most where most
people were not to be found, being one too many, even when by himself"
(Collier). Some editors follow Pope in reading (from 1st quarto) "That
most are busied when they're most alone."
127. _Who._ Him who; the antecedent omitted, as often when it is easily
supplied.
131. _All so soon. All_ is often used in this "intensive" way.
134. _Heavy._ S. is fond of playing on _heavy_ and _light._ Cf. _R. of
L._ 1574, _T.G. of V._ i. 2. 84, _M. of V._ v. 1. 130, etc.
142. _Importun'd._ Accented on the second syllable, as regularly in S.
148. _With._ By; as often of the agent or cause.
150. _Sun._ The early eds. all have "same." The emendation is due to
Theobald and is almost universally adopted.
156. _To hear._ _As_ to hear; a common ellipsis.
157. _Is the day so young?_ Is it not yet noon? _Good morrow_ or _good
day_ was considered proper only before noon, after which _good den_ was
the usual salutation. Cf. i. 2. 57 below.
158. _New._ Often used by S. in this adverbial way = just, lately. Cf.
v. 3. 197 below. For _Ay me!_ see on ii. 1. 10.
166. _In his view._ In appearance; opposed to _proof_ = experience. Cf.
_Ham._ iii. 2. 179: "What my love is, proof hath made you know," etc.
168. _Alas, that love, whose view_, etc. Alas "that love, though
blindfolded, should see how to reach the lover's heart" (Dowden). _View_
here = sight, or eyes.
172. _Here's much_, etc. Romeo means that the fray has much to do with
the hate between the rival houses, yet affects him more, inasmuch as his
Rosaline is of the Capulet family.
173-178. _O brawling love!_ etc. Cf. iii. 2. 73 fol. below.
187. _Rais'd._ The reading of the 1st quarto, adopted by the majority of
editors. The other early eds. have "made."
188. _Purg'd._ That is, from smoke.
191. _A choking gall_, etc. That is, "love kills and keeps alive, is a
bane and an antidote" (Dowden).
195. _Some other where._ Cf. _C. of E._ iv. 1. 30: "How if your husband
start some other where?"
196. _Sadness._ Seriousness. Cf. _A.W._ iv. 3. 230: "In good sadness, I
do not know," etc. So _sadly_ just below = seriously, as in _Much Ado_,
ii. 3. 229.
203. _Mark-man._ The 3d and 4th folios have "marks-man." S. uses the
word nowhere else.
206. _Dian's wit._ Her way of thinking, her sentiments. S. has many
allusions to Diana's chastity, and also to her connection with the moon.
207. _Proof._ Used technically of armour. Cf. _Rich. II._ i. 3. 73: "Add
proof unto mine armour with thy prayers;" _Ham._ ii. 2. 512: "Mars's
armour forg'd for proof eterne," etc.
209. _The siege_, etc. Cf. _V. and A._ 423:--
"Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
To love's alarm it will not ope the gate."
See also _R. of L._ 221, _A.W._ iii. 7. 18, _Cymb._ iii. 4. 137, etc.
213. _That when she dies_, etc. "_She is rich in beauty_, and _only
poor_ in being subject to the lot of humanity, that _her store_, or
riches, _can be destroyed by death_, who shall, by the same blow, put an
end to beauty" (Johnson); or, as Mason puts it, "she is poor because she
leaves no part of her store behind her." _Her store_ may mean "beauty's
store," as Dowden suggests. Cf. _V. and A._ 1019: "For he, being dead,
with him is beauty slain."
215. _In that sparing makes huge waste._ Cf. _Sonn._ 1. 12: "And, tender
churl, makes waste in niggarding."
216. _Starv'd._ The early eds. (except the 4th folio) have "sterv'd,"
the old form of the word, found in several other passages in the folio
(_M. of V._ iv. 1. 138, _Cor._ iv. 2. 51, etc.) and rhyming with
_deserve_ in _Cor._ ii. 3. 120. Cf. Spenser, _F.Q._ iv. 1. 4:--
"Untill such time as noble Britomart
Released her, that else was like to sterve
Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerve."
There it means to die (its original sense), as in _Hen. VII._ v. 3. 132.
226. _To call hers, exquisite._ "That is, to call hers, which is
exquisite, the more into my remembrance and contemplation" (Heath); or
"to make her unparalleled beauty more the subject of thought and
conversation" (Malone). For _question_ = conversation, cf. _A.Y.L._ iii.
4. 39, v. 4. 167, etc. But why may not _question_ repeat the idea of
_examine_? Benvolio says, "Examine other beauties;" Romeo replies, in
substance, that the result of the examination will only be to prove her
beauty superior to theirs and therefore the more extraordinary.
227. _These happy masks._ Steevens took this to refer to "the masks worn
by female spectators of the play;" but it is probably = the masks worn
nowadays. They are called _happy_ as "being privileged to touch the
sweet countenances beneath" (Clarke).
229. _Strucken._ The early eds. have "strucken" or "strooken." S. also
uses _struck_ (or _strook_) and _stricken_ as the participle.
231. _Passing._ Often used adverbially but only before adjectives and
adverbs. Cf. _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 103, _Much Ado_, ii. 1. 84, etc.
235. _Pay that doctrine._ Give that instruction. Cf. _L. L. L._ iv. 3.
350: "From women's eyes this doctrine I derive;" _A. and C._ v. 2.
31:--
"I hourly learn
A doctrine of obedience," etc.
SCENE II.--4. _Reckoning._ Estimation, reputation.
9. _Fourteen years._ In Brooke's poem her father says, "Scarce saw she
yet full xvi. yeres;" and in Paynter's novel "as yet shee is not
attayned to the age of xviii. yeares."
13. _Made._ The 1st quarto has "maried," which is followed by some
editors. The antithesis of _make_ and _mar_ is a very common one in S.
Cf. ii. 4. 110 below: "that God hath made for himself to mar." See also
_L. L. L._ iv. 3. 191, _M.N.D._ i. 2. 39, _A.Y.L._ i. 1. 34, _T. of S._
iv. 3. 97, _Macb._ ii. 3. 36, _Oth._ v. 1. 4, etc. On the other hand,
examples of the opposition of _married_ and _marred_ are not uncommon
in Elizabethan writers. Cf. _A.W._ ii. 3. 315: "A young man married is a
man that's marr'd."
14. _All my hopes but she._ Capulet seems to imply here that he has lost
some children; but cf. iii. 5. 163 below.
15. _My earth._ My world or my life; rather than my lands, my landed
property, as some explain it. It was apparently suggested by the _earth_
of the preceding line.
17. _My will_, etc. My will is subordinate to her consent. The old man
talks very differently in iii. 5 below.
25. _Dark heaven._ The darkness of night. Cf. i. 5. 47 below.
26. _Young men._ Malone compares _Sonn._ 98. 2:--
"When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing."
29. _Female._ The quartos (except the 1st) and 1st folio have the
curious misprint "fennell."
30. _Inherit._ Possess; as in _Temp._ iv. 1. 154, _Rich. II._ ii. 1. 83,
_Cymb._ iii. 2. 63, etc.
32. _Which on more view_, etc. A perplexing line for which many
emendations have been suggested. With the reading in the text the
meaning seems to be: _which one_ (referring to _her of most merit_),
after your further inspection of the many, my daughter (who is one of
the number) may prove to be,--one in number, though one is no number.
The quibble at the end alludes to the old proverb that "one is no
number." Cf. _Sonn._ 136. 8: "Among a number one is reckon'd none."
Dowden points thus: "Which on more view of, many--mine being one--May,"
etc., and explains thus: "On more view of whom (that is, the lady of
most merit), many (other ladies)--and my daughter among them--may stand
in a count of heads, but in estimation (_reckoning_, with a play on the
word) none can hold a place." The general sense of the passage is clear,
whatever reading or analysis we adopt. Capulet says in substance: Come
to my house to-night, and decide whom you like best of the beauties
gathered there; if Juliet be the one, well and good. He has already
told Paris that she shall be his if he can gain her love, but discreetly
suggests that he look more carefully at the "fresh female buds" of
Verona before plucking one to wear on his heart.
36. _Written there._ Cf. Brooke's poem:--
"No Lady fayre or fowle was in Verona towne:
No knight or gentleman of high or lowe renowne:
But Capilet himselfe hath byd vnto his feast:
Or by his name in paper sent, appoynted as a geast."
46. _One fire_, etc. Alluding to the old proverb that "fire drives out
fire." Cf. _J.C._ iii. 1. 171: "As fire drives out fire, so pity pity;"
_Cor._ iv. 7. 54: "One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail,"
etc.
48. _Holp._ Used by S. oftener than _helped_, for both the past tense
and the participle.
49. _Cures with._ Is cured by. S. does not elsewhere use _cure_
intransitively. _Languish_ occurs again as a noun in _A. and C._ v. 2.
42: "That rids our dogs of languish." On the passage cf. Brooke:--
"Ere long the townishe dames together will resort:
Some one of bewty, favour, shape, and of so lovely porte:
With so fast fixed eye, perhaps thou mayst beholde:
That thou shalt quite forget thy loue, and passions past of olde.
* * * * *
The proverbe saith vnminded oft are they that are vnseene.
And as out of a planke a nayle a nayle doth drive:
So novell love out of the minde the auncient loue doth rive."
52. _Your plantain-leaf._ The common plantain (_Plantago major_), which
still holds a place in the domestic _materia medica_. For its use in
healing bruises, cf. _L. L. L._ iii. 1. 74:--
"_Moth._ A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin.
* * * * *
_Costard._ O sir, plantain, a plain plantain! ... no salve, sir,
but a plantain!"
Steevens quotes _Albumazar_: "Bring a fresh plantain leaf, I've broke my
shin." _A broken shin_, like a _broken head_ (_M.W._ i. 125, _T.N._ v.
1. 178, etc.) is one that is bruised, so that the blood runs, not one
that is fractured. The plantain was supposed to have other virtues.
Halliwell-Phillipps quotes Withals, _Little Dictionarie for Children_,
1586: "The tode being smitten of the spyder in fighte, and made to swell
with hir poyson, recovereth himselfe with plantaine."
55. _Not mad, but bound_, etc. An allusion to the old-time treatment of
the insane. Cf. _C. of E._ iv. 4. 97: "They must be bound and laid in
some dark room;" and _A.Y.L._ iii. 2. 420: "Love is merely a madness,
and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do."
57. _Good-den._ Printed "godden" and "gooden" in the early eds., and a
corruption of _good e'en_, or _good evening_. _God gi' good-den_ in the
next line is printed "Godgigoden" in the quartos and first three folios,
"God gi' Good-e'en" in the 4th folio. This salutation was used as soon
as noon was past. See on i. 1. 157 above, and cf. ii. 4. 105 fol. below.
64. _Rest you merry!_ For the full form, _God rest you merry_! (= God
keep you merry), cf. _A.Y.L._ v. 1. 65, etc. It was a common form of
salutation at meeting, and oftener at parting. Here the servant is about
to leave, thinking that Romeo is merely jesting with him. Cf. 79 below.
66-69. _Signior Martino_, etc. Probably meant to be prose, but some
editors make bad verse of it.
69. _Mercutio._ Mercutio here figures among the invited guests, although
we find him always associating with the young men of the Montague
family. He is the prince's "kinsman," and apparently on terms of
acquaintance with both the rival houses, though more intimate with the
Montagues than with the Capulets.
71. _Rosaline._ This shows that Rosaline is a Capulet.
74. _Up._ Dowden plausibly prints "Up--," assuming that "Romeo eagerly
interrupts the servant, who would have said 'Up to our house.'"
82. _Crush a cup_, etc. A common expression in the old plays. We still
say "crack a bottle."
87. _Unattainted._ Unprejudiced, impartial; used by S. only here.
91. _Fires._ The early eds. have "fire," which White retains as an
admissible rhyme in Shakespeare's day.
92. _Who often drown'd_, etc. Alluding to the old notion that if a witch
were thrown into the water she would not sink. King James, in his
_Dæmonology_, says: "It appeares that God hath appointed for a
supernatural signe of the monstrous impietie of witches, that the water
shall refuse to receive them in her bosom that have shaken off them the
sacred water of baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit thereof."
98. _That crystal scales._ The reading of the early eds., changed by
some to "those," etc.; but _scales_ may be used for the entire machine.
Dyce says it was often so used by writers of the time.
99. _Lady's love._ Some substitute "lady-love," which S. does not use
elsewhere. Clarke suggests that _your lady's love_ may mean "the little
love Rosaline bears you," weighed against that of some possible _maid_.
101. _Scant._ Not elsewhere used adverbially by S. _Scantly_ occurs only
in _A. and C._ iii. 4. 6.
SCENE III.--1. On the character of the Nurse Mrs. Jameson says:--
"She is drawn with the most wonderful power and discrimination. In the
prosaic homeliness of the outline, and the magical illusion of the
colouring, she reminds us of some of the marvellous Dutch paintings,
from which, with all their coarseness, we start back as from a reality.
Her low humour, her shallow garrulity, mixed with the dotage and
petulance of age--her subserviency, her secrecy, and her total want of
elevated principle, or even common honesty--are brought before us like a
living and palpable truth....