Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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1.3 Enter Capulet’s Wife and the Nurse

CAPULET’S WIFE

Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me.

NURSE

Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old,

I bade her come. What, lamb, what, ladybird—

God forbid—where is this girl? What, Juliet!

Enter Juliet

JULIET How now, who calls?

NURSE Your mother.

JULIET

Madam, I am here. What is your will?

CAPULET’S WIFE

This is the matter.—Nurse, give leave a while.

We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again.

I have remembered me, thou s’ hear our counsel.

Thou knowest my daughter’s of a pretty age.

NURSE

Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

CAPULET’S WIFE She’s not fourteen.

NURSE I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth—and yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four—she’s not fourteen. How long is it now to Lammastide?

CAPULET’S WIFE A fortnight and odd days.

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,

On 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 weaned—I never shall forget it–

Of all the days of the year upon that day,

For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,

Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse 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

Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,

To see it tetchy and fall out wi’th’ dug!

‘Shake’, quoth the dove-housed‘Twas no need, I trow,

To bid me trudge;

And since that time it is eleven years,

For then she could stand high-lone. Nay, by th’ 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.

‘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 halidom,

The pretty wretch left crying and said ‘Ay’.

To see now how a jest shall come about!

I 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’.

CAPULET’S WIFE

Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace.

NURSE

Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh

To think it should leave crying and say ‘Ay’.

And yet, I warrant, it had upon it brow

A bump as big as a young cock‘rel’s stone.

A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly.

‘Yea,’ quoth my husband, ‘fall’st upon thy face?

Thou wilt fall backward when thou com’st 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.

An I might live to see thee married once,

I have my wish.

CAPULET’S WIFE

Marry, that ’marry’ is the very theme

I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,

How stands your dispositions to be married?

JULIET

It is an honour that I dream not of.

NURSE

‘An honour’! Were not I thine only nurse,

I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat.

CAPULET’S WIFE

Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

Are 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

As all the world—why, he’s a man of wax.

CAPULET’S WIFE

Verona’s summer hath not such a flower.

NURSE

Nay, he’s a flower, in faith, a very flower.

CAPULET’S WIFE (to Juliet)

What say you ? Can you love the gentleman ?

This night you shall behold him at our feast.

Read 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

Find written in the margin 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.

That 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.

CAPULET’s WIFE (to Juliet)

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.

Enter ⌈Peter⌉

⌈PETER⌉ Madam, the guests are come, supper served up,

you called, my young lady asked for, the Nurse cursed

in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence

to wait. I beseech you follow straight.

CAPULET’S WIFE

We follow thee. Exit ⌈Peter⌉

Juliet, the County stays.

NURSE

Go, girl; seek happy nights to happy days. Exeunt

1.4 Enter Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio, as masquers, with five or six other masquers, ⌈bearing a drum and torches⌉

ROMEO

What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse,

Or shall we on without apology?

BENVOLIO

The date is out of such prolixity.

We’ll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,

Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath,

Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper,

Nor no without-book Prologue faintly spoke

After the prompter for our entrance.

But let them measure us by what they will,

We’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

With 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 empiercèd with his shaft

To 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.

ROMEO

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

Too rude, too boist’rous, 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,

A visor for a visor. What care I

What curious eye doth quote deformity?

Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

⌈They put on visors⌉

BENVOLIO

Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in

But every man betake him to his legs.

ROMEO

A torch for me. Let wantons light of heart

Tickle the sense-less rushes with their heels,

For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.

I’ll be a candle-holder and look on.

The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done.

⌈He takes a torch⌉

MERCUTIO

Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word.

If thou art dun we’ll draw thee from the mire

Of—save your reverence—love, wherein thou stickest

Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

ROMEO

Nay, that’s not so.

MERCUTIO I mean, sir, in delay

We waste our lights in vain, like lights by day.

Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits

Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

ROMEO

And we mean well in going to this masque,

But ’tis no wit to go.

MERCUTIO Why, may one ask?

ROMEO

I dreamt a dream tonight.

MERCUTIO And so did I.

ROMEO

Well, what was yours?

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.

BENVOLIO Queen Mab, what’s she?

MERCUTIO

She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes

In shape no bigger than an agate stone

On the forefinger of an alderman,

Drawn with a team of little atomi

Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.

Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs;

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;

Her traces, of the moonshine’s wat‘ry beams;

Her collars, of the smallest spider web;

Her whip, of cricket’s bone, the lash of film;

Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat

Not half so big as a round little worm

Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid.

Her chariot is an empty hazelnut

Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,

Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.

And in this state she gallops night by night

Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;

O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight;

O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream,

Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues

Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.

Sometime she gallops o’er a lawyer’s lip,

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;

Then dreams he of another benefice.

Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,

And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,

Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades,

Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon

Drums 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 plaits the manes of horses in the night,

And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,

Which 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—

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,

Which is as thin of substance as the air,

And more inconstant than the wind, who woos

Even now the frozen bosom of the north,

And, being angered, puffs away from thence,

Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

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

With 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.

BENVOLIO Strike, drum.

They march about the stage and ⌈exeunt⌉

1.5 ⌈Peter⌉ and other Servingmen come forth with napkins

⌈PETER⌉ Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away?

He shift a trencher, he scrape a trencher!

FIRST SERVINGMAN When good manners shall lie all in one

or two men’s hands, and they unwashed too, ’tis a foul

thing.

⌈PETER⌉ Away with the joint-stools, remove the court–

cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece

of marzipan, and, as thou loves me, let the porter let in

Susan Grindstone and Nell. Anthony and Potpan I

SECOND SERVINGMAN Ay, boy, ready.

⌈PETER⌉ You are looked for and called for, asked for and

sought for, in the great chamber.

⌈FIRST⌉ SERVINGMAN We cannot be here and there too.

Cheerly, boys! Be brisk a while, and the longest liver take all.

⌈They come and go, setting forth tables and chairs.⌉ Enter ⌈Musicians, then⌉ at one door Capulet, ⌈his Wife,⌉ his Cousin, Juliet., ⌈the Nurse,⌉ Tybalt, his page, Petruccio, and all the guests and gentlewomen; at another door, the masquers: ⌈Romeo, Benvolio and Mercutio⌉

CAPULET (to the masquers)

Welcome, gentlemen. Ladies that have their toes

Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you.

Aha, 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

A 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.

Music plays, and the masquers, guests, and gentlewomen dance. ⌈Romeo stands apart⌉

A hall, a hall! Give room, and foot it, girls.

(To Servingmen) More light, you knaves, and turn the

tables up,

And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.

(To his Cousin) Ah sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes

well.

Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet,

For you and I are past our dancing days.

⌈Capulet and his Cousin sit⌉

How long is’t now since last yourself and I

Were in a masque?

CAPULET’S COUSIN By’r Lady, thirty years.

CAPULET

What, man, ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much.

’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,

Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,

Some five-and-twenty years; and then we masqued.

CAPULET’S COUSIN

’Tis more, ’tis more. His son is elder, sir.

His son is thirty.

CAPULET Will you tell me that?

His son was but a ward two years ago.

ROMEO (to a Servingman)

What lady’s that which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

SERVINGMAN I know not, sir.

ROMEO

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night

As 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

As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.

The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand,

And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand.

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight,

For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.

TYBALT

This, by his voice, should be a Montague.

Fetch me my rapier, boy. ⌈Exit page⌉

What, dares the slave

Come hither, covered with an antic face,

To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,

To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

CAPULET ⌈standing⌉

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.

CAPULET

Young Romeo, is it?

TYBALT ’Tis he, that villain Romeo.

CAPULET

Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone.

A bears him like a portly gentleman,

And, to say truth, Verona brags of him

To be a virtuous and well-governed youth.

I would not for the wealth of all this 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,

Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,

An 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.

What, 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!

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—

⌈A dance ends. Juliet retires to her place of stand, where Romeo awaits her⌉

(To the guests) Well said, my hearts! (To Tybalt) You are

a princox, go.

Be quiet, or—(to Servingmen) more light, more light!—

(to Tybalt) for shame,

I’ll make you quiet. (To the guests) What, cheerly, my

hearts!

⌈The music plays again, and the guests dance⌉

TYBALT

Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting

Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.

I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall,

Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt’rest gall. Exit

ROMEO (to Juliet, touching her hand)

If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentler sin is this:

My 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,

And 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.

JULIET

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

ROMEO

Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.

He kisses her

Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged.

JULIET

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO

Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

He kisses her

JULIET You kiss by th’ book.

NURSE

Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

⌈Juliet departs to her mother⌉

ROMEO

What is her mother?

NURSE Marry, bachelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,

And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous.

I nursed her daughter that you talked withal.

I tell you, he that can lay hold of her

Shall have the chinks.

ROMEO (aside) Is she a Capulet?

O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt.

BENVOLIO

Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.

ROMEO

Ay, so I fear, the more is my unrest.

CAPULET

Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone.

We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.

⌈They whisper in his ear⌉

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.

(To his Cousin) Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late.

I’ll to my rest.

Exeunt Capulet, ⌈his Wife,⌉ and his Cousin. The guests, gentlewomen, masquers, musicians, and servingmen begin to leave

JULIET

Come hither, Nurse. What is yon gentleman?

NURSE

The son and heir of old Tiberio.

JULIET

What’s he that now is going out of door?

NURSE

Marry, that, I think, be young Petruccio.

JULIET

What’s he that follows here, that would not dance?

NURSE I know not.

JULIET

Go ask his name.

The Nurse goes

If he be married,

My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

NURSE (returning)

His name is Romeo, and a Montague,

The only son of your great enemy.

JULIET ⌈aside⌉

My only love sprung from my only hate!

Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Prodigious birth of love it is to me

That I must love a loathed enemy.

NURSE

What’s tis? what’s tis?

JULIET A rhyme I learnt even now

Of one I danced withal.

One calls within ‘Juliet!’

NURSE Anon, anon.

Come, let’s away. The strangers all are gone. Exeunt

2.0 Enter Chorus

CHORUS

Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,

And young affection gapes to be his heir.

That fair for which love groaned for and would die,

With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair.

Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;

But to his foe supposed he must complain,

And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks.

Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear,

And she as much in love, her means much less

To meet her new belovèd anywhere.

But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,

Temp’ring extremities with extreme sweet. Exit

2.1 Enter Romeo

ROMEO

Can I go forward when my heart is here?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

⌈He turns back and withdraws.⌉

Enter Benvolio with Mercutio

BENVOLIO (calling)

Romeo, my cousin Romeo, Romeo!

MERCUTIO

He is wise, and, on my life, hath stol’n him home to bed.

BENVOLIO

He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. Call, good Mercutio.

⌈MERCUTIO⌉ Nay, I’ll conjure too.

Romeo! Humours! adman! Passion! Lover!

Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh.

Speak but one rhyme and I am satisfied.

Cry but ‘Ay me!’ Pronounce but ‘love’ and ‘dove’.

Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

One nickname for her purblind son and heir,

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim

When King Cophetua loved the beggar maid.—

He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not.

The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.—

I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes,

By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,

By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,

And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,

That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

BENVOLIO

An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

MERCUTIO

This cannot anger him. ’Twould anger him

To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle

Of some strange nature, letting it there stand

Till she had laid it and conjured it down.

That were some spite. My invocation

Is fair and honest. In his mistress’ name,

I conjure only but to raise up him.

BENVOLIO

Come, he hath hid himself among these trees

To be consorted with the humorous night.

Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

MERCUTIO

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Now will he sit under a medlar tree

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit

As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.

O Romeo, that she were, O that she were

An open-arse, and thou a popp’rin’ pear.

Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed.

This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.

Come, shall we go?

BENVOLIO Go then, for ’tis in vain

To seek him here that means not to be found.

Exeunt Benvolio and Mercutio

ROMEO ⌈coming forward⌉

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Be not her maid, since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

⌈Enter Juliet aloft⌉

It is my lady, O, it is my love.

O that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

Her eye discourses; I will answer it.

I am too bold. ’Tis not to me she speaks.

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?—

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven

Would through the airy region stream so bright

That birds would sing and think it were not night.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!

JULIET Ay me.

ROMEO (aside) She speaks.

O, speak again, bright angel; for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o‘er my head,

As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white upturned wond’ring eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-passing clouds

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

JULIET (not knowing Romeo hears her)

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name,

Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

ROMEO (aside)

Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

JULIET

’Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name I

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other word would smell as sweet.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for thy name—which is no part of thee—

Take all myself.

ROMEO (to Juliet) I take thee at thy word.

Call me but love and I’ll be new baptized.

Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

JULIET

What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,

So stumblest on my counsel?

ROMEO By a name

I know not how to tell thee who I am.

My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself

Because it is an enemy to thee.

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

JULIET

My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words

Of thy tongue’s uttering, yet I know the sound.

Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

ROMEO

Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.

JULIET

How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,

And the place death, considering who thou art,

If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

ROMEO

With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls,

For stony limits cannot hold love out,

And what love can do, that dares love attempt.

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

JULIET

If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

ROMEO

Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye

Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet,

And I am proof against their enmity.

JULIET

I would not for the world they saw thee here.

ROMEO

I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes,

And but thou love me, let them find me here.

My life were better ended by their hate

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

JULIET

By whose direction found’st thou out this place?

ROMEO

By love, that first did prompt me to enquire.

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far

As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea,

I should adventure for such merchandise.

JULIET

Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.

Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny

What I have spoke; but farewell, compliment.

Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ‘Ay’,

And I will take thy word. Yet if thou swear‘st

Thou mayst prove false. At lovers’ perjuries,

They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;

Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,

I’ll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,

And therefore thou mayst think my ‘haviour light.

But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true

Than those that have more cunning to be strange.

I should have been more strange, I must confess,

But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ware,

My true-love passion. Therefore pardon me,

And not impute this yielding to light love,

Which the dark night hath so discoverèd.

ROMEO

Lady, by yonder blessèd moon I vow,

That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—

JULIET

O swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon

That monthly changes in her circled orb,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

ROMEO

What shall I swear by?

JULIET Do not swear at all,

Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I’ll believe thee.

ROMEO If my heart’s dear love—

JULIET

Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,

I have no joy of this contract tonight.

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden,

Too like the lightning which doth cease to be

Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good night.

This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest

Come to thy heart as that within my breast.

ROMEO

O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET

What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?

ROMEO

Th’exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.

JULIET

I gave thee mine before thou didst request it,

And yet I would it were to give again.

ROMEO

Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?

JULIET

But to be frank and give it thee again.

And yet I wish but for the thing I have.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep. The more I give to thee

The more I have, for both are infinite.

Nurse calls within

I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu.—

Anon, good Nurse!—Sweet Montague, be true.

Stay but a little; I will come again. Exit

ROMEO

O blessed, blessèd night! I am afeard,

Being in night, all this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Enter Juliet aloft

JULIET

Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.

If that thy bent of love be honourable,

Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow,

By one that I’ll procure to come to thee,

Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite,

And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay,

And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.

⌈NURSE⌉ (within)

Madam!

JULIET

I come, anon. (To Romeo) But if thou mean’st not well,

I do beseech thee—

⌈NURSE⌉ (within) Madam!

JULIET By and by I come.—

To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief.

Tomorrow will I send.

ROMEO So thrive my soul—

JULIET A thousand times good night. Exit

ROMEO

A thousand times the worse to want thy light.

Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,

But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

⌈He is going.⌉ Enter Juliet aloft again

JULIET

Hist, Romeo! Hist! O for a falconer’s voice

To lure this tassel-gentle back again.

Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud,

Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,

And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine

With repetition of my Romeo’s name. Romeo!

ROMEO

It is my soul that calls upon my name.

How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,

Like softest music to attending ears!

JULIET

Romeo!

ROMEO My nyas?

JULIET What o’clock tomorrow

Shall I send to thee?

ROMEO By the hour of nine.

JULIET

I will not fail; ’tis twenty year till then.

I have forgot why I did call thee back.

ROMEO

Let me stand here till thou remember it.

JULIET

I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,

Rememb’ring how I love thy company.

ROMEO

And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget,

Forgetting any other home but this.

JULIET

’Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone—

And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird,

That lets it hop a little from his hand,

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,

And with a silk thread plucks it back again,

So loving-jealous of his liberty.

ROMEO

I would I were thy bird.

JULIET Sweet, so would I.

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow

That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

⌈ROMEO⌉

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.

Exit Juliet

Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.

Hence will I to my ghostly sire’s close cell,

His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

Exit