Juliet. O God!—O nurse, how shall this be prevented? 2320My 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 2325Upon so soft a subject as myself! What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, nurse. Nurse. Faith, here it is. Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, 2330That 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! 2335Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye 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, 2340Your 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. 2345 Juliet. Amen! Nurse. What? Juliet. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, 2350To make confession and to be absolved. 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, 2355Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath praised 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: 2360If all else fail, myself have power to die.

Capulet. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright. 2235How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? Evermore showering? In one little body Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, 2240Sailing 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? 2245 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. How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, 2250Unworthy 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. 2255 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, Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, 2260To 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? 2265 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, Or never after look me in the face: 2270Speak 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: 2275Out 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. 2280 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; 2285For here we need it not. Lady Capulet. You are too hot. Capulet. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care hath been 2290To have her match'd: and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; 2295And 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, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you: 2300Graze 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: An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in 2305the 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]

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; 2175Therefore, 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. 2180 Juliet. Feeling so the loss, 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? 2185 Lady Capulet. That same villain, Romeo. Juliet. [Aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.— 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 murderer lives. 2190 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, 2195Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. Juliet. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold him—dead— 2200Is my poor heart 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 2205To hear him named, and cannot come to him. To wreak the love I bore my cousin Upon his body that 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. 2210 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, 2215That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for. Juliet. Madam, in happy time, what day is that? Lady Capulet. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, The gallant, young and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, 2220Shall 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. 2225I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, 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, 2230And see how he will take it at your hands.

Nurse. Madam! 2135 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. 2140 Romeo. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. [He goeth down] Juliet. Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days: 2145O, 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. 2150 Juliet. O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? 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, 2155As 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. That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back. 2165 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?

Juliet. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; 2100Nightly 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: 2105Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. Juliet. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 2110To 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. 2115I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: 2120Come, 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. 2125Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, 2130Hunting 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

Capulet. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter: 2060Look you, she loved 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. 2065 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; To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness. Capulet. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender 2070Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled 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— 2075But, 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, She shall be married to this noble earl. 2080Will 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: 2085Therefore 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. Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, 2090Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me! it is so very very late, That we may call it early by and by. Good night.

Friar Laurence. Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: 1990Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast: Unseemly woman in a seeming man! Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order, 1995I thought thy disposition better temper'd. Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? And stay thy lady too that lives in thee, By doing damned hate upon thyself? Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? 2000Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, And usest none in that true use indeed 2005Which 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; 2010Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask, Is set afire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. 2015What, 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 are thou happy too: The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend 2020And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: 2025Take 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; 2030Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time 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. 2035Go 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 2040To hear good counsel: O, what learning is! 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. 2045 [Exit] Romeo. How well my comfort is revived 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 disguised from hence: 2050Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, And he shall signify from time to time 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, 2055It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell. [Exeunt]

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: 1925Adversity'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, 1930It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more. 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: 1935Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, 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, 1940Taking the measure of an unmade grave. [Knocking within] Friar Laurence. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. Romeo. Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. 1945 [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, 1950What 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; 1955I come from Lady Juliet. Friar Laurence. Welcome, then. [Enter Nurse] Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? 1960 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! O woful sympathy! Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. 1965Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man: For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; Why should you fall into so deep an O? Romeo. Nurse! Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. 1970 Romeo. Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Doth she not think me an old murderer, Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy With blood removed but little from her own? Where is she? and how doth she? and what says 1975My 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, And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again. 1980 Romeo. As if that name, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy 1985Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion.

[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE] Friar Laurence. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: 1870Affliction 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, 1875That 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 dooms-day is the prince's doom? 1880 Friar Laurence. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, 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.' 1885 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, 1890And world's exile is death: then banished, Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. Friar Laurence. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! 1895Thy 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, 1900Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog 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 1905In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my 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; 1910But Romeo may not; he is banished: Flies may do this, but 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, 1915No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me?—'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 1920A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

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? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: 1825Back, 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: 1830All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; But, O, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 1835'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 1840And 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 lamentations might have moved? But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, 1845'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. 1850Where 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, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. 1855Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: He made you for a highway to my bed; But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; 1860And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! 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. 1865 Juliet. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell.

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! 1760 Juliet. Can heaven be so envious? Nurse. Romeo can, Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! Juliet. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? 1765This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' 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; 1770Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: 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: 1775A 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! 1780Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead! 1785 Juliet. What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two are gone? 1790 Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. 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! 1795Did 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, 1800A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter 1805So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace! Nurse. There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. 1810Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae: These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! Juliet. Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: 1815Upon his brow shame is ashamed 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. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner 1720As Phaethon would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. 1725Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, 1730Play'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; 1735For 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, Take him and cut him out in little stars, 1740And 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, 1745Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks 1750But 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.

Benvolio. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, 1625Which 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. Romeo. Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! 1630Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! [Re-enter TYBALT] Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul 1635Is but a little way above our heads, 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. 1640 Romeo. This shall determine that. [They fight; TYBALT falls] Benvolio. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, 1645If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! Romeo. O, I am fortune's fool! Benvolio. Why dost thou stay? [Exit ROMEO] [Enter Citizens, &c] First Citizen. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Benvolio. There lies that Tybalt. First Citizen. Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the princes name, obey. 1655[Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their] Wives, and others] Prince Escalus. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Benvolio. O noble prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: 1660There 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 O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, 1665For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. O cousin, cousin! Prince Escalus. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Benvolio. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink 1670How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts 1675With 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, 1680Retorts 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 1685An 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 1690Could 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: 1695Some 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 Escalus. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; 1700Who 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 Escalus. And for that offence 1705Immediately we do exile him hence: 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: 1710I 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: 1715Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Romeo. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mercutio. Come, sir, your passado. 1585 [They fight] Romeo. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: 1590Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! [TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers] Mercutio. I am hurt. A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing? 1595 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. 1600 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 man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a 1605cat, 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. 1610 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, 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 kinsman! O sweet Juliet, 1620Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

Tybalt. Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. Mercutio. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: 1555Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; 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 1560Doth 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. 1565 Romeo. I do protest, I never injured thee, 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. 1570 Mercutio. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws] Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tybalt. What wouldst thou have with me? 1575 Mercutio. Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your 1580ears ere it be out. Tybalt. I am for you.

Tybalt. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. 1535Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mercutio. And but one word with one of us? 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. 1540 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; here's that shall 1545make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! Benvolio. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. 1550 Mercutio. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Benvolio. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, 1500And, 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 1505thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. 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 1510soon 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, 1515or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking 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 fun of quarrels as an egg is full of 1520meat, 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 1525his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? 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. 1530 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. 1535Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mercutio. And but one word with one of us? 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. 1540 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; here's that shall 1545make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! Benvolio. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. 1550 Mercutio. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Juliet. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Juliet. What's he that now is going out of door? 760 Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio. Juliet. What's he that follows there, that would not dance? Nurse. I know not. Juliet. Go ask his name: if he be married. My grave is like to be my wedding bed. 765 Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy. Juliet. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, 770That I must love a loathed enemy. Nurse. What's this? what's this? Juliet. A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danced withal. [One calls within 'Juliet.'] Nurse. Anon, anon! Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. [Exeunt]

Romeo. [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: 720My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Juliet. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, 725And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Romeo. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 730 Juliet. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. Juliet. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo. Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! 735Give me my sin again. Juliet. You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Romeo. What is her mother? Nurse. Marry, bachelor, 740Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal; I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks. 745 Romeo. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Benvolio. Away, begone; the sport is at the best. Romeo. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. Capulet. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; 750We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: 755I'll to my rest.

Capulet. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you. 635Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now? Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day That I have worn a visor and could tell 640A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. [Music plays, and they dance] 645More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; For you and I are past our dancing days: 650How long is't now since last yourself and I Were in a mask? Second Capulet. By'r lady, thirty years. Capulet. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: 'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio, 655Come pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. Second Capulet. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty. Capulet. Will you tell me that? 660His son was but a ward two years ago. Romeo. [To a Servingman] What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? Servant. I know not, sir. 665 Romeo. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 670As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 675 Tybalt. This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, 680To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. Capulet. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? Tybalt. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night. 685 Capulet. Young Romeo is it? Tybalt. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. Capulet. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him 690To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take no note of him: It is my will, the which if thou respect, 695Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. Tybalt. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him. Capulet. He shall be endured: 700What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; Am I the master here, or you? go to. You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! 705 Tybalt. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. Capulet. Go to, go to; You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time. 710Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go: Be quiet, or—More light, more light! For shame! I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts! Tybalt. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. 715I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.

First Servant. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher! 620 Second Servant. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. First Servant. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let 625the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony, and Potpan! Second Servant. Ay, boy, ready. First Servant. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. 630 Second Servant. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

Mercutio. I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits. Romeo. And we mean well in going to this mask; 545But 'tis no wit to go. Mercutio. Why, may one ask? Romeo. I dream'd a dream to-night. Mercutio. And so did I. Romeo. Well, what was yours? 550 Mercutio. That dreamers often lie. Romeo. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. Mercutio. O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 555On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, 560The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm 565Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night 570Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, 575Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, 580Then dreams, he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon 585Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, 590Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she— 595 Romeo. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing. Mercutio. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, 600Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 605 Benvolio. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Romeo. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 610With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen. 615 Benvolio. Strike, drum.

Romeo. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without a apology? Benvolio. The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, 500Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But let them measure us by what they will; 505We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. Romeo. Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mercutio. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Romeo. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes 510With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. Mercutio. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound. Romeo. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft 515To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink. Mercutio. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing. 520 Romeo. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. Mercutio. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in: 525A visor for a visor! what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. Benvolio. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs. 530 Romeo. A torch for me: let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase; I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. 535 Mercutio. Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! Romeo. Nay, that's not so. 540 Mercutio. I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits. Romeo. And we mean well in going to this mask; 545But 'tis no wit to go. Mercutio. Why, may one ask?

Lady Capulet. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurse. Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, 435To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone; A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: 'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face? 440Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.' Juliet. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: 445An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. Lady Capulet. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married? 450 Juliet. It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. Lady Capulet. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, 455Are made already mothers: by my count, I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man 460As all the world—why, he's a man of wax. Lady Capulet. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. Lady Capulet. What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast; 465Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content And what obscured in this fair volume lies 470Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide: 475That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less. Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. 480 Lady Capulet. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? Juliet. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she—God rest all Christian souls!— Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me: but, as I said, 405On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd,—I never shall forget it,— Of all the days of the year, upon that day: 410For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; My lord and you were then at Mantua:— Nay, I do bear a brain:—but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple 415Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge: And since that time it is eleven years; 420For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before, she broke her brow: And then my husband—God be with his soul! A' was a merry man—took up the child: 425'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.' To see, now, how a jest shall come about! 430I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'

Benvolio. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, 360With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Romeo. When the devout religion of mine eye 365Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; And these, who often drown'd could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. 370 Benvolio. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself poised with herself in either eye: But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, 375And she shall scant show well that now shows best. Romeo. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

Benvolio. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; 320Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish: Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. Romeo. Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that. 325 Benvolio. For what, I pray thee? Romeo. For your broken shin. Benvolio. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Romeo. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, 330Whipp'd and tormented and—God-den, good fellow. Servant. God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read? Romeo. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Servant. Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you see? 335 Romeo. Ay, if I know the letters and the language. Servant. Ye say honestly: rest you merry! Romeo. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads] 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; 340County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin 345Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair assembly: whither should they come? Servant. Up. Romeo. Whither? Servant. To supper; to our house. 350 Romeo. Whose house? Servant. My master's. Romeo. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. Servant. Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house 355of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry!

Capulet. But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. Paris. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. 275But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? Capulet. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world; She hath not seen the change of fourteen years, Let two more summers wither in their pride, 280Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Paris. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Capulet. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: 285But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, 290Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you, among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: 295Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well-apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, 300And like her most whose merit most shall be: Which on more view, of many mine being one May stand in number, though in reckoning none, Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving a paper] 305Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS]

Benvolio. Good-morrow, cousin. Romeo. Is the day so young? Benvolio. But new struck nine. Romeo. Ay me! sad hours seem long. 185Was that my father that went hence so fast? Benvolio. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo. Not having that, which, having, makes them short. Benvolio. In love? Romeo. Out— 190 Benvolio. Of love? Romeo. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Benvolio. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Romeo. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, 195Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! 200O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! 205Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? Benvolio. No, coz, I rather weep. Romeo. Good heart, at what? 210 Benvolio. At thy good heart's oppression. Romeo. Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown 215Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, 220A choking gall and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. Benvolio. Soft! I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Romeo. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; 225This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Benvolio. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. Romeo. What, shall I groan and tell thee? Benvolio. Groan! why, no. But sadly tell me who. 230 Romeo. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Benvolio. I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. Romeo. A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. 235 Benvolio. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Romeo. Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. 240She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, That when she dies with beauty dies her store. 245 Benvolio. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? Romeo. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, For beauty starved with her severity Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, 250To merit bliss by making me despair: She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow Do I live dead that live to tell it now. Benvolio. Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. Romeo. O, teach me how I should forget to think. 255 Benvolio. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Romeo. 'Tis the way To call hers exquisite, in question more: These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows 260Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note 265Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. Benvolio. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

Benvolio. See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Montague. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.

Montague. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? 125Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Benvolio. Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: I drew to part them: in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, 130Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more and fought on part and part, 135Till the prince came, who parted either part. Lady Montague. O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. Benvolio. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, 140A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the city's side, So early walking did I see your son: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me 145And stole into the covert of the wood: I, measuring his affections by my own, That most are busied when they're most alone, Pursued my humour not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. 150 Montague. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw 155The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from the light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out And makes himself an artificial night: 160Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. Benvolio. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Montague. I neither know it nor can learn of him. Benvolio. Have you importuned him by any means? 165 Montague. Both by myself and many other friends: But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself—I will not say how true— But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, 170As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know.

Prince Escalus. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, 105On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, 110Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: 115If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away: You Capulet; shall go along with me: And, Montague, come you this afternoon, 120To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET] Capulet. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! Lady Capulet. A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? Capulet. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, 95And flourishes his blade in spite of me. [Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE] Montague. Thou villain Capulet,—Hold me not, let me go. Lady Montague. Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.

Benvolio. Part, fools! Put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords] [Enter TYBALT] Tybalt. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? 80Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. Benvolio. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. Tybalt. What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: 85Have at thee, coward! [They fight] [Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs]

Abraham. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson. I do bite my thumb, sir. Abraham. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson. [Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say 60ay? Gregory. No. Sampson. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir. Gregory. Do you quarrel, sir? 65 Abraham. Quarrel sir! no, sir. Sampson. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. Abraham. No better. Sampson. Well, sir. Gregory. Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen. 70 Sampson. Yes, better, sir. Abraham. You lie. Sampson. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. Sampson. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I 35have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads. Gregory. The heads of the maids? Sampson. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. 40 Gregory. They must take it in sense that feel it. Sampson. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gregory. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes 45two of the house of the Montagues. Sampson. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. Gregory. How! turn thy back and run? Sampson. Fear me not. Gregory. No, marry; I fear thee! 50 Sampson. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. Gregory. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. Sampson. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Sampson. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. Gregory. No, for then we should be colliers. Sampson. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Gregory. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar. 20 Sampson. I strike quickly, being moved. Gregory. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sampson. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gregory. To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. 25 Sampson. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gregory. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sampson. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, 30are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. Gregory. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.