The Same. JULIET’S Chamber. | |
| |
Enter ROMEO and JULIET. | |
| Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: | |
| It was the nightingale, and not the lark, | 4 |
| That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear; | |
| Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: | |
| Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. | |
| Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, | 8 |
| No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks | |
| Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: | |
| Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day | |
| Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops: | 12 |
| I must be gone and live, or stay and die. | |
| Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I: | |
| It is some meteor that the sun exhales, | |
| To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, | 16 |
| And light thee on thy way to Mantua: | |
| Therefore stay yet; thou need’st not to be gone. | |
| Rom. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death; | |
| I am content, so thou wilt have it so. | 20 |
| I’ll say you 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: | 24 |
| I have more care to stay than will to go: | |
| Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. | |
| How is’t, my soul? let’s talk; it is not day. | |
| Jul. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away! | 28 |
| It is the lark that sings so out of tune, | |
| Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. | |
| Some say the lark makes sweet division; | |
| This doth not so, for she divideth us: | 32 |
| Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes; | |
| O! now I would they had chang’d voices too, | |
| Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, | |
| Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day. | 36 |
| O! now be gone; more light and light it grows. | |
| Rom. More light and light; more dark and dark our woes. | |
| |
Enter Nurse. | |
| Nurse. Madam! | 40 |
| Jul. Nurse! | |
| Nurse Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: | |
| The day is broke; be wary, look about. [Exit. | |
| Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. | 44 |
| Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I’ll descend. [Descends. | |
| Jul. Art thou gone so? my lord, my love, my friend! | |
| I must hear from thee every day in the hour, | |
| For in a minute there are many days: | 48 |
| O! by this count I shall be much in years | |
| Ere I again behold my Romeo. | |
| Rom. Farewell! | |
| I will omit no opportunity | 52 |
| That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. | |
| Jul. O! think’st thou we shall ever meet again? | |
| Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve | |
| For sweet discourses in our time to come. | 56 |
| Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul: | |
| Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, | |
| As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: | |
| Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale. | 60 |
| Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: | |
| Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu! [Exit. | |
| Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: | |
| If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him | 64 |
| That is renown’d for faith? Be fickle, fortune; | |
| For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, | |
| But send him back. | |
| Lady Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up? | 68 |
| Jul. Who is’t that calls? is it my lady mother? | |
| Is she not down so late, or up so early? | |
| What unaccustom’d cause procures her hither? | |
| |
Enter LADY CAPULET. | 72 |
| Lady Cap. Why, how now, Juliet! | |
| Jul. Madam, I am not well. | |
| Lady Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? | |
| What! wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? | 76 |
| And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; | |
| Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; | |
| But much of grief shows still some want of wit. | |
| Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. | 80 |
| Lady Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend | |
| Which you weep for. | |
| Jul. Feeling so the loss, | |
| I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. | 84 |
| Lady Cap. Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death, | |
| As that the villain lives which slaughter’d him. | |
| Jul. What villain, madam? | |
| Lady Cap. That same villain, Romeo. | 88 |
| Jul. [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 Cap. That is because the traitor murderer lives. | 92 |
| Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. | |
| Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death! | |
| Lady Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: | |
| Then weep no more. I’ll send to one in Mantua, | 96 |
| Where that same banish’d runagate doth live, | |
| Shall give him such an unaccustom’d dram | |
| That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: | |
| And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. | 100 |
| Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied | |
| With Romeo, till I behold him—dead— | |
| Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex’d: | |
| Madam, if you could find out but a man | 104 |
| To bear a poison, I would temper it, | |
| That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, | |
| Soon sleep in quiet. O! how my heart abhors | |
| To hear him nam’d, and cannot come to him, | 108 |
| To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt | |
| Upon his body that hath slaughter’d him. | |
| Lady Cap. Find thou the means, and I’ll find such a man. | |
| But now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. | 112 |
| Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy time: | |
| What are they, I beseech your ladyship? | |
| Lady Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; | |
| One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, | 116 |
| Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy | |
| That thou expect’st not, nor I look’d not for. | |
| Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that? | |
| Lady Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn | 120 |
| The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, | |
| The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s church, | |
| Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. | |
| Jul. Now, by Saint Peter’s church, and Peter too, | 124 |
| He shall not make me there a joyful bride. | |
| I wonder at this haste; that I must wed | |
| Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. | |
| I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, | 128 |
| 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 Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, | 132 |
| And see how he will take it at your hands. | |
| |
Enter CAPULET and Nurse. | |
| Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; | |
| But for the sunset of my brother’s son | 136 |
| It rains downright. | |
| How now! a conduit, girl? what! still in tears? | |
| Evermore showering? In one little body | |
| Thou counterfeit’st a bark, a sea, a wind; | 140 |
| For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, | |
| Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, | |
| Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; | |
| Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, | 144 |
| Without a sudden calm, will overset | |
| Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! | |
| Have you deliver’d to her our decree? | |
| Lady Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. | 148 |
| I would the fool were married to her grave! | |
| Cap. 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 bless’d, | 152 |
| Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought | |
| So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? | |
| Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: | |
| Proud can I never be of what I hate; | 156 |
| But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. | |
| Cap. 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, | 160 |
| Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, | |
| But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next, | |
| To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s church, | |
| Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. | 164 |
| Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! | |
| You tallow face! | |
| Lady Cap. Fie, fie! what, are you mad? | |
| Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, | 168 |
| Hear me with patience but to speak a word. | |
| Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! | |
| I tell thee what, get thee to church o’ Thursday, | |
| Or never after look me in the face. | 172 |
| Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; | |
| My fingers itch.—Wife, we scarce thought us bless’d | |
| That God had lent us but this only child; | |
| But now I see this one is one too much, | 176 |
| And that we have a curse in having her. | |
| Out on her, hilding! | |
| Nurse. God in heaven bless her! | |
| You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. | 180 |
| Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, | |
| Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. | |
| Nurse. I speak no treason. | |
| Cap. O! God ye good den. | 184 |
| Nurse. May not one speak? | |
| Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool; | |
| Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl; | |
| For here we need it not. | 188 |
| Lady Cap. You are too hot. | |
| Cap. God’s bread! it makes me mad. | |
| Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, | |
| Alone, in company, still my care hath been | 192 |
| To 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, | 196 |
| Proportion’d as one’s thought would wish a man; | |
| And then to have a wretched puling fool, | |
| A whining mammet, in her fortune’s tender, | |
| To answer ‘I’ll not wed,’ ‘I cannot love,’ | 200 |
| ‘I am too young,’ ‘I pray you, pardon me;’ | |
| But, an you will not wed, I’ll pardon you: | |
| Graze where you will, you shall not house with me: | |
| Look to ’t, think on ’t, I do not use to jest. | 204 |
| Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. | |
| An you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; | |
| An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, | |
| For, by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee, | 208 |
| Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. | |
| Trust to ’t, bethink you; I’ll not be forsworn. [Exit. | |
| Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, | |
| That sees into the bottom of my grief? | 212 |
| O! sweet my mother, cast me not away: | |
| Delay this marriage for a month, a week; | |
| Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed | |
| In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. | 216 |
| Lady Cap. Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word. | |
| Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit. | |
| Jul. O God! O nurse! how shall this be prevented? | |
| My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; | 220 |
| 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 strata gems | 224 |
| Upon so soft a subject as myself! | |
| What sayst thou? hast thou not a word of joy? | |
| Some comfort, nurse? | |
| Nurse. Faith, here it is. Romeo | 228 |
| Is banished; and all the world to nothing | |
| That he dares ne’er come back to challenge you; | |
| Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. | |
| Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, | 232 |
| I think it best you married with the county. | |
| O! he’s a lovely gentleman; | |
| Romeo’s a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, | |
| Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye | 236 |
| As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, | |
| I think you are happy in this second match, | |
| For it excels your first: or if it did not, | |
| Your first is dead; or ’twere as good he were, | 240 |
| As living here and you no use of him. | |
| Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart? | |
| Nurse. And from my soul too; | |
| Or else beshrew them both. | 244 |
| Jul. Amen! | |
| Nurse. What! | |
| Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. | |
| Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, | 248 |
| Having displeas’d my father, to Laurence’ cell, | |
| To make confession and to be absolv’d. | |
| Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Exit. | |
| Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! | 252 |
| Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, | |
| Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue | |
| Which she hath prais’d him with above compare | |
| So many thousand times? Go, counsellor; | 256 |
| Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. | |
| I’ll to the friar, to know his remedy: | |
| If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit. | |