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ACT I will
PROLOGUE take the wall of any man or maid of
Two households, both alike in dignity, Montague's.
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, GREGORY
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes goes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; to the wall.
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife. SAMPSON
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd True; and therefore women, being the weaker
love, vessels,
And the continuance of their parents' rage, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will
Which, but their children's end, nought could push
remove, Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; maids
The which if you with patient ears attend, to the wall.
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to
mend. GREGORY
The quarrel is between our masters and us
SCENE I. Verona. A public place. their men.
SAMPSON SAMPSON
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy
them; swashing blow.
which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
They fight
Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR
Enter BENVOLIO
ABRAHAM
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? BENVOLIO
Part, fools!
SAMPSON Put up your swords; you know not what you
I do bite my thumb, sir. do.
PRINCE BENVOLIO
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
beasts, Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage That westward rooteth from the city's side,
With purple fountains issuing from your So early walking did I see your son:
veins, Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands And stole into the covert of the wood:
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the I, measuring his affections by my own,
ground, That most are busied when they're most alone,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, MONTAGUE
And made Verona's ancient citizens Many a morning hath he there been seen,
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd sighs;
hate: But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
If ever you disturb our streets again, Should in the furthest east begin to draw
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
For this time, all the rest depart away: Away from the light steals home my heavy
You Capulet; shall go along with me: son,
And private in his chamber pens himself, BENVOLIO
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's
And makes himself an artificial night: hours?
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove. ROMEO
Not having that, which, having, makes them
BENVOLIO short.
My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
BENVOLIO
MONTAGUE In love?
I neither know it nor can learn of him.
ROMEO
BENVOLIO Out--
Have you importuned him by any means?
BENVOLIO
MONTAGUE Of love?
Both by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor, ROMEO
Is to himself--I will not say how true-- Out of her favour, where I am in love.
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery, BENVOLIO
As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows ROMEO
grow. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
We would as willingly give cure as know. Should, without eyes, see pathways to his
will!
Enter ROMEO Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was
here?
BENVOLIO Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
See, where he comes: so please you, step Here's much to do with hate, but more with
aside; love.
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
MONTAGUE O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away. Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
sick health!
Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
MONTAGUE This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?
BENVOLIO
Good-morrow, cousin. BENVOLIO
No, coz, I rather weep.
ROMEO
Is the day so young? ROMEO
Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO
But new struck nine. BENVOLIO
At thy good heart's oppression.
ROMEO
Ay me! sad hours seem long. ROMEO
Was that my father that went hence so fast? 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 BENVOLIO
shown Then she hath sworn that she will still live
Doth add more grief to too much of mine chaste?
own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; ROMEO
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: waste,
What is it else? a madness most discreet, For beauty starved with her severity
A choking gall and a preserving sweet. Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
Farewell, my coz. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair:
BENVOLIO She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
Soft! I will go along; Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
BENVOLIO
ROMEO Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where. ROMEO
O, teach me how I should forget to think.
BENVOLIO
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. BENVOLIO
By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
ROMEO Examine other beauties.
What, shall I groan and tell thee?
ROMEO
BENVOLIO 'Tis the way
Groan! why, no. To call hers exquisite, in question more:
But sadly tell me who. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
ROMEO He that is strucken blind cannot forget
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Where I may read who pass'd that passing
BENVOLIO fair?
I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.
ROMEO BENVOLIO
A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
BENVOLIO Exeunt
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
SCENE II. A street.
ROMEO
Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant
With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; CAPULET
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, But Montague is bound as well as I,
From love's weak childish bow she lives In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
unharm'd. For men so old as we to keep the peace.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, PARIS
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: Of honourable reckoning are you both;
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
That when she dies with beauty dies her store. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher
CAPULET with
But saying o'er what I have said before: his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I
My child is yet a stranger in the world; am
She hath not seen the change of fourteen sent to find those persons whose names are
years, here
Let two more summers wither in their pride, writ, and can never find what names the
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. writing
person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--
PARIS In good time.
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO
CAPULET
And too soon marr'd are those so early made. BENVOLIO
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
she, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
She is the hopeful lady of my earth: Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, One desperate grief cures with another's
My will to her consent is but a part; languish:
An she agree, within her scope of choice Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
Lies my consent and fair according voice. And the rank poison of the old will die.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest, ROMEO
Such as I love; and you, among the store, Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.
One more, most welcome, makes my number
more. BENVOLIO
At my poor house look to behold this night For what, I pray thee?
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven
light: ROMEO
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel For your broken shin.
When well-apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight BENVOLIO
Among fresh female buds shall you this night Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be: ROMEO
Which on more view, of many mine being one Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
May stand in number, though in reckoning Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
none, Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good
Come, go with me. fellow.
Servant Exeunt
To supper; to our house.
SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.
ROMEO
Whose house? Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse
LADY CAPULET
Servant Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to
My master's. me.
ROMEO Nurse
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
Servant God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is
the Enter JULIET
great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the
house JULIET
of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of How now! who calls?
wine.
Rest you merry! Nurse
Your mother.
Exit
JULIET
BENVOLIO Madam, I am here.
At this same ancient feast of Capulet's What is your will?
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
With all the admired beauties of Verona: LADY CAPULET
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
again; The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
counsel. I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?'
quoth he;
Nurse And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
LADY CAPULET
LADY CAPULET Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
She's not fourteen.
Nurse
Nurse Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
four-- A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
She is not fourteen. How long is it now A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
To Lammas-tide? 'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to
LADY CAPULET age;
A fortnight and odd days. Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'
Nurse JULIET
Even or odd, of all days in the year, And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be
fourteen. Nurse
Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!-- Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his
Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; grace!
She was too good for me: but, as I said, Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be An I might live to see thee married once,
fourteen; I have my wish.
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; LADY CAPULET
And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,-- Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
Of all the days of the year, upon that day: I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, How stands your disposition to be married?
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua:-- JULIET
Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said, It is an honour that I dream not of.
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, Nurse
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from
trow, thy teat.
To bid me trudge:
And since that time it is eleven years; LADY CAPULET
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the Well, think of marriage now; younger than
rood, you,
She could have run and waddled all about; Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
For even the day before, she broke her brow: Are made already mothers: by my count,
And then my husband--God be with his soul! I was your mother much upon these years
A' was a merry man--took up the child: That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more
wit; Nurse
A man, young lady! lady, such a man
As all the world--why, he's a man of wax. Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse Exeunt
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
SCENE IV. A street.
LADY CAPULET
What say you? can you love the gentleman? Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO,
This night you shall behold him at our feast; with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, others
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; ROMEO
Examine every married lineament, What, shall this speech be spoke for our
And see how one another lends content excuse?
And what obscured in this fair volume lies Or shall we on without a apology?
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound BENVOLIO
lover, The date is out of such prolixity:
To beautify him, only lacks a cover: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
For fair without the fair within to hide: Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; After the prompter, for our entrance:
So shall you share all that he doth possess, But let them measure us by what they will;
By having him, making yourself no less. We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
Nurse ROMEO
No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
LADY CAPULET
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? MERCUTIO
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
JULIET
I'll look to like, if looking liking move: ROMEO
But no more deep will I endart mine eye Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
Than your consent gives strength to make it With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
fly. So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
CAPULET CAPULET
What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: Young Romeo is it?
'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
Come pentecost as quickly as it will, TYBALT
Some five and twenty years; and then we 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
mask'd.
CAPULET
Second Capulet Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir; He bears him like a portly gentleman;
His son is thirty. And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
CAPULET I would not for the wealth of all the town
Will you tell me that? Here in my house do him disparagement:
His son was but a ward two years ago. Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
It is my will, the which if thou respect,
ROMEO Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
[To a Servingman] What lady is that, which And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
doth
enrich the hand TYBALT
Of yonder knight? It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
I'll not endure him.
Servant
I know not, sir. CAPULET
He shall be endured:
ROMEO What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Am I the master here, or you? go to.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night You'll not endure him! God shall mend my
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; soul!
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of TYBALT
stand, Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude
hand. CAPULET
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! Go to, go to;
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
This trick may chance to scathe you, I know
TYBALT what:
This, by his voice, should be a Montague. You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? shame!
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!
To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.
TYBALT
CAPULET Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm Makes my flesh tremble in their different
greeting. ROMEO
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall What is her mother?
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.
Nurse
Exit Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
ROMEO And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
[To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
hand I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: Shall have the chinks.
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. ROMEO
Is she a Capulet?
JULIET O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much, BENVOLIO
Which mannerly devotion shows in this; Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do
touch, ROMEO
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
ROMEO CAPULET
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
JULIET Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
ROMEO Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; I'll to my rest.
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to
despair. Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse
JULIET JULIET
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
sake.
Nurse
ROMEO The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I
take. JULIET
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is What's he that now is going out of door?
purged.
Nurse
JULIET Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
JULIET
ROMEO What's he that follows there, that would not
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! dance?
Give me my sin again.
Nurse
JULIET I know not.
You kiss by the book.
JULIET
Nurse Go ask his name: if he be married.
Madam, your mother craves a word with you. My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
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,
That 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.
Nurse
Anon, anon!
Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
Exeuntsonae