Romeo and Juliet

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Original text

Chorus.
Now old desire doth in his death bed lie,
And yong affection gapes to be his Heire,
That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die,
With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire.
Now Romeo is beloued, and Loues againe,
A like bewitched by the charme of lookes:
But to his foe suppos'd he must complaine,
And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes:
Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse
To breath such vowes as Louers vse to sweare,
And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse,
To meete her new Beloued any where:
But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete,
Temp'ring extremities with extreame sweete.
Original text
Act II, Scene I
Enter Romeo alone.

Rom.
Can I goe forward when my heart is here?
Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out.
Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.

Ben.
Romeo, my Cozen Romeo, Romeo.

Merc.
He is wise,
And on my life hath stolne him home to bed.

Ben.
He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall.
Call good Mercutio:

Mer.
Nay, Ile coniure too.
Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer,
Appeare thou in the likenesse of a sigh,
Speake but one rime, and I am satisfied:
Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day,
Speake to my goship Venus one faire word,
One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her,
Young Abraham Cupid he that shot so true,
When King Cophetua lou'd the begger Maid,
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not,
The Ape is dead, I must coniure him,
I coniure thee by Rosalines bright eyes,
By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip,
By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh,
And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie,
That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs.

Ben.
And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him.

Mer.
This cannot anger him, t'would anger him
To raise a spirit in his Mistresse circle,
Of some strange nature, letting it stand
Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe,
That were some spight. / My inuocation
is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name,
I coniure onely but to raise vp him.

Ben.
Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees
To be consorted with the Humerous night:
Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke.

Mer.
If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke,
Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree,
And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite,
As Maides call Medlers when they laugh alone,
O Romeo that she were, O that she were
An open, or thou a Poprin Peare,
Romeo goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed,
This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleepe,
Come shall we go?

Ben.
Go then, for 'tis in vaine
to seeke him here / That meanes not to be found.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act II, Scene II

Rom.
He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound,

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Iuliet is the Sunne,
Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone,
Who is already sicke and pale with griefe,
That thou her Maid art far more faire then she:
Be not her Maid since she is enuious,
Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene,
And none but fooles do weare it, cast it off:
It is my Lady, O it is my Loue,
O that she knew she were,
She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answere it:
I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes:
Two of the fairest starres in all the Heauen,
Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes,
To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres,
As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen,
Would through the ayrie Region streame so bright,
That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not night:
See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand.
O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand,
That I might touch that cheeke.

Iul.
Ay me.

Rom.
She speakes.
Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art
As glorious to this night being ore my head,
As is a winged messenger of heauen
Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes
Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazie puffing Cloudes,
And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre.

Iul.
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Denie thy Father and refuse thy name:
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne my Loue,
And Ile no longer be a Capulet.

Rom.
Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this?

Iu.
'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy:
Thou art thy selfe, though not a Mountague,
What's Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote,
Nor arme, nor face,
Belonging to a man. / O be some other name
What? in a names that which we call a Rose,
By any other word would smell as sweete,
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cal'd,
Retaine that deare perfection which he owes,
Without that title Romeo, doffe thy name,
And for thy name which is no part of thee,
Take all my selfe.

Rom.
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd,
Hence foorth I neuer will be Romeo.

Iuli.
What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsell?

Rom.
By a name,
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe,
Because it is an Enemy to thee,
Had I it written, I would teare the word.

Iuli.
My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words
Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom.
Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike.

Iul.
How cam'st thou hither. / Tell me, and wherefore?
The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here,

Rom.
With Loues light wings / Did I ore-perch these Walls,
For stony limits cannot hold Loue out,
And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt:
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

Iul.
If they do see thee, they will murther thee.

Rom.
Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye,
Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but sweete,
And I am proofe against their enmity.

Iul.
I would not for the world they saw thee here.

Rom.
I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes
And but thou loue me, let them finde me here,
My life were better ended by their hate,
Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue.

Iul.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

Rom.
By Loue that first did promp me to enquire,
He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes,
I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far
As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea,
I should aduenture for such Marchandise.

Iul.
Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face,
Else would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke,
For that which thou hast heard me speake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie
What I haue spoke, but farewell Complement,
Doest thou Loue? I know thou wilt say I,
And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st,
Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries
They say Ioue laught, oh gentle Romeo,
If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne,
Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world.
In truth faire Mountague I am too fond:
And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light,
But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true,
Then those that haue coying to be strange,
I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse,
But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware
My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yeelding to light Loue,
Which the darke night hath so discouered.

Rom.
Lady, by yonder Moone I vow,
That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops.

Iul.
O sweare not by the Moone, th'inconstant Moone,
That monethly changes in her circled Orbe,
Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable.

Rom.
What shall I sweare by?

Iul.
Do not sweare at all:
Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe,
Which is the God of my Idolatry,
And Ile beleeue thee.

Rom.
If my hearts deare loue.

Iuli.
Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee:
I haue no ioy of this contract to night,
It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden,
Too like the lightning which doth cease to be
Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night:
This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath,
May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete:
Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest,
Come to thy heart, as that within my brest.

Rom.
O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied?

Iuli.
What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night?

Ro.
Th'exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine.

Iul.
I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it:
And yet I would it were to giue againe.

Rom.
Would'st thou withdraw it, / For what purpose Loue?

Iul.
But to be franke and giue it thee againe,
And yet I wish but for the thing I haue,
My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea,
My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee
The more I haue, for both are Infinite:
I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:
Cals within.
Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true:
Stay but a little, I will come againe.

Rom.
O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd
Being in night, all this is but a dreame,
Too flattering sweet to be substantiall.

Iul.
Three words deare Romeo, / And goodnight indeed,
If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow,
By one that Ile procure to come to thee,
Where and what time thou wilt performe the right,
And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay,
And follow thee my Lord throughout the world.
Within:
Madam.
I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well,
I do beseech theee
Within:
Madam.
(By and by I come)
To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe,
To morrow will I send.

Rom.
So thriue my soule.

Iu.
A thousand times goodnight.
Exit.

Rome.
A thousand times the worse to want thy light,
Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes frõ thier books
But Loue frõ Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes.
Enter Iuliet agaaine.

Iul.
Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice,
To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe,
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud,
Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies,
And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom.
It is my soule that calls vpon my name.
How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night,
Like softest Musicke to attending eares.

Iul.
Romeo.

Rom.
My Neece.

Iul.
What a clock to morrow
Shall I send to thee?

Rom.
By the houre of nine.

Iul.
I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then,
I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.

Rom.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Iul.
I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there,
Remembring how I Loue thy company.

Rom.
And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Iul.
'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone,
And yet no further then a wantons Bird,
That let's it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues,
And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe,
So louing Iealous of his liberty.

Rom.
I would I were thy Bird.

Iul.
Sweet so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing:
Good night, good night. Rom. Parting is such sweete sorrow,
That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow.

Iul.
Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest.
Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest,
The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night. Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles. From forth daies path. and Titans burning wheeles: Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye.
Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light,
And darknesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles.
Hence will I to my ghostly Fries close Cell,
His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell.
Exit.
Original text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Frier alone with a basket.

Fri.
The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, / Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: / And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles, / From forth daies path, and Titans burning wheeles: / Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye,
The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry,
I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours,
With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers,
The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe,
What is her burying graue that is her wombe:
And from her wombe children of diuers kind
We sucking on her naturall bosome find:
Many for many vertues excellent:
None but for some, and yet all different.
Omickle is the powerfull grace that lies
In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile, that on the earth doth liue,
But to the earth some speciall good doth giue.
Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse,
Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied,
And vice sometime by action dignified.
Within the infant rin'd of this weake flower,
Poyson hath residence, and medicine power:
For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part,
Being tasted slayes all sences with the heart.
Two such opposed Kings encampe them still,
In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will:
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant.
Enter Romeo.

Rom.
Good morrow Father.

Fri.
Benedecite.
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head,
So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed;
Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye,
And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye:
But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine
Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne;
Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure,
Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right.
Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night.

Rom.
That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.

Fri.
God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline?

Rom.
With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No,
I haue forgot that name, and that names woe.

Fri.
That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then?

Rom.
Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen:
I haue beene feasting with mine enemie,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded: both our remedies
Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies:
I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri.
Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift,
Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift.

Rom.
Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set,
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when and where, and how,
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow:
Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray,
That thou consent to marrie vs to day.

Fri.
Holy S. Francis, what a change is heere?
Is Rosaline that thou didst Loue so deare
So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies
Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline?
How much salt water throwne away in wast,
To season Loue that of it doth not tast.
The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares,
Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares:
Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit,
Of an old teare that is not washt off yet.
If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes, were all for Rosaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Rom.
Thou chid'st me oft for louing Rosaline.

Fri.
For doting, not for louing pupill mine.

Rom.
And bad'st me bury Loue.

Fri.
Not in a graue,
To lay one in, another out to haue.

Rom.
I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now
Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow:
The other did not so.

Fri.
O she knew well,
Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell:
But come young wauerer, come goe with me,
In one respect, Ile thy assistant be:
For this alliance may so happy proue,
To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue.

Rom.
O let vs hence, I stand on sudden hast.

Fri.
Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.
Exeunt
Original text
Act II, Scene IV
Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.

Mer.
Where the deule should this Romeo be? came
he not home to night?

Ben.
Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.

Mer.
Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that Rosaline
torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben.
Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
hath sent a Letter to his Fathers house.

Mer.
A challenge on my life.

Ben.
Romeo will answere it.

Mer.
Any man that can write, may answere a Letter.

Ben.
Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he
dares, being dared.

Mer.
Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead
stab'd with a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the
eare with a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with
the blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to
encounter Tybalt?

Ben.
Why what is Tibalt?

Mer.
More then Prince of Cats. Oh
hee's the Couragious Captaine of Complements: he fights as
you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion,
he rests his minum, one, two, and the third in
your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a Dualist,
a Dualist: a Gentleman of the very first house of the
first and second cause: ah the immortall Passado, the
Punto reuerso, the Hay.

Ben.
The what?

Mer.
The Pox of such antique lisping affecting
phantacies, these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very
good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is
not this a lamentable thing Grandsire, that we should be
thus afflicted with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers,
these pardon-mee's, who stand so much on the
new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench.
O their bones, their bones.
Enter Romeo.

Ben.
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer.
Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh,
flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers
that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen
wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her:
Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero,
hildings and Harlots: Thisbie a gray eie or so, but not to
the purpose. Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French
salutation to your French slop: you gaue vs the the counterfait
fairely last night.

Romeo.
Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I
giue you?

Mer.
The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue?

Rom.
Pardon Mercutio, my businesse was great,
and in such a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie.

Mer.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom.
Meaning to cursie.

Mer.
Thou hast most kindly hit it.

Rom.
A most curteous exposition.

Mer.
Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie.

Rom.
Pinke for flower.

Mer.
Right.

Rom.
Why then is my Pump well flowr'd.

Mer.
Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast
worne out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it
is worne, the ieast may remaine after the wearing, sole-
singular.

Rom.
O single sol'd ieast, / Soly singular for the
singlenesse.

Mer.
Come betweene vs good Benuolio, my wits
faints.

Rom.
Swits and spurs, / Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a
match.

Mer.
Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I
am done: For thou hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of
thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I
with you there for the Goose?

Rom.
Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when
thou wast not there for the Goose.

Mer.
I will bite thee by the eare for that iest.

Rom.
Nay, good Goose bite not.

Mer.
Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting, / It is a most
sharpe sawce.

Rom.
And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-
Goose?

Mer.
Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from
an ynch narrow, to an ell broad.

Rom.
I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added
to the Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose.

Mer.
Why is not this better now, then groning for
Loue, now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo: now
art thou what thou art, by Art as well as by Nature, for
this driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling
vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole.

Ben.
Stop there, stop there.

Mer.
Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against
the haire.

Ben.
Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large.

Mer.
O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it
short, or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and
meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer.

Rom.
Here's goodly geare.
Enter Nurse and her man.
A sayle, a sayle.

Mer.
Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke.

Nur.
Peter?

Peter.
Anon.

Nur.
My Fan Peter?

Mer.
Good Peter to hide her face? / For her Fans the
fairer face?

Nur.
God ye good morrow Gentlemen.

Mer.
God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman.

Nur.
Is it gooden?

Mer.
'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of
the Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone.

Nur.
Out vpon you: what a man are you?

Rom.
One Gentlewoman, / That God hath made, himselfe
to mar.

Nur.
By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar
quatha: Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I
may find the young Romeo?

Romeo.
I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older
when you haue found him, then he was when you sought
him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a
worse.

Nur.
You say well.

Mer.
Yea is the worst well, / Very well tooke: Ifaith,
wisely, wisely.

Nur.
If you be he sir, / I desire some confidence with
you?

Ben.
She will endite him to some Supper.

Mer.
A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho.

Rom.
What hast thou found?

Mer.
No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie,
that is something stale and hoare ere it be spent.
An old Hare hoare,
and an old Hare hoare
is very good meat in Lent.
But a Hare that is hoare
is too much for a score,
when it hoares ere it be spent,
Romeo will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner
thither.

Rom.
I will follow you.

Mer.
Farewell auncient Lady: / Farewell
Lady, Lady, Lady.
Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio.

Nur.
I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this that
was so full of his roperie?

Rom.
A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe
talke, and will speake more in a minute, then he will stand
to in a Moneth.

Nur.
And a speake any thing against me, Ile take him
downe, & a were lustier then he is, and twentie such
Iacks: and if I cannot, Ile finde those that shall: scuruie
knaue, I am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his
skaines mates, and thou
must stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vse me at
his pleasure.

Pet.
I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my
weapon should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you,
I dare draw assoone as another man, if I see occasion in
a good quarrell, and the law on my side.

Nur.
Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part
about me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word:
and as I told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you
out, what she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but
first let me tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise,
as they say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour,
as they say: for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore,
if you should deale double with her, truely it were an
ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and very
weake dealing.

Nur.
Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I
protest vnto thee.

Nur.
Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much:
Lord, Lord she will be a ioyfull woman.

Rom.
What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not
marke me?

Nur.
I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I
take it, is a Gentleman-like offer.

Rom.
Bid her deuise
some meanes to come to shrift this afternoone,
And there she shall at Frier Lawrence Cell
Be shriu'd and married: here is for thy paines.

Nur.
No truly sir not a penny.

Rom.
Go too, I say you shall.

Nur.
This afternoone sir? well she shall be there.

Ro.
And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall,
Within this houre my man shall be with thee,
And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire,
Which to the high top gallant of my ioy,
Must be my conuoy in the secret night.
Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines:
Farewell, commend me to thy Mistresse.

Nur.
Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir,

Rom.
What saist thou my deare Nurse?

Nurse.
Is your man secret, did you nere heare say
two may keepe counsell putting one away.

Ro.
Warrant thee my man as true as steele.

Nur.
Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord,
Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a
Noble man in Towne one Paris, that would faine lay knife
aboard: but she good soule had as leeue a see Toade, a very
Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I
say so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world.
Doth not Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Rom.
I Nurse, what of that? Both with an R

Nur.
A mocker that's the dogs name. R. is for the
no, I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath
the prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that
it would do you good to heare it.

Rom.
Commend me to thy Lady.

Nur.
I a thousand times. Peter?

Pet.
Anon.

Nur.
Before and apace.
Exit Nurse and Peter.
Original text
Act II, Scene V
Enter Iuliet.

Iul.
The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse,
In halfe an houre she promised to returne,
Perchance she cannot meete him: that's not so:
Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames,
Driuing backe shadowes ouer lowring hils.
Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings:
Now is the Sun vpon the highmost hill
Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue,
I three long houres, yet she is not come.
Had she affections and warme youthfull blood,
She would be as swift in motion as a ball,
My words would bandy her to my sweete Loue,
And his to me,
but old folkes, / Many faine as they were dead,
Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse.
O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes?
Hast thou met with him? send thy man away.

Nur.
Peter stay at the gate.

Iul.
Now good sweet Nurse: / O Lord, why lookest thou sad?
Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily.
If good thou sham'st the musicke of sweet newes,
By playing it to me, with so sower a face.

Nur.
I am a weary, giue me leaue awhile,
Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunt haue I had?

Iul.
I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy newes:
Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake.

Nur.
Iesu what hast? can you not stay a while?
Do you not see that I am out of breath?

Iul
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth
To say to me, that thou art out of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that,
Say either, and Ile stay the circustance:
Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad?

Nur.
Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know
not how to chuse a man: Romeo, no not he though
his face be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all
mens, and for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though
they be not to be talkt on, yet they are past compare:
he is not the flower of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as
gentle a Lambe: go thy waies wench, serue God. What
haue you din'd at home?

Iul.
No no: but all this this did I know before
What saies he of our marriage? what of that?

Nur.
Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I?
It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces.
My backe a tother side: o my backe, my backe:
Beshrew your heart for sending me about
To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe.

Iul.
Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well.
Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue?

Nur.
Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, / And I warrant
a vertuous: where is your Mother?

Iul.
Where is my Mother? / Why she is within,
where should she be? / How odly thou repli'st:
Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman:
Where is your Mother?

Nur.
O Gods Lady deare,
Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow,
Is this the Poultis for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your messages your selfe.

Iul.
Heere's such a coile, come what saies Romeo?

Nur.
Haue you got leaue to go to shrift to day?

Iul.
I haue.

Nur.
Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell,
There staies a Husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes,
Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes:
Hie you to Church, I must an other way,
To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue
Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke:
I am the drudge, and toile in your delight:
But you shall beare the burthen soone at night.
Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell.

Iui.
Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act II, Scene VI
Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri.
So smile the heauens vpon this holy act,
That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not.

Rom.
Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can,
It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy
That one short minute giues me in her sight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words.
Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare,
It is inough. I may but call her mine.

Fri.
These violent delights haue violent endes,
And in their triumph: die like fire and powder;
Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse,
And in the taste confoundes the appetite.
Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so,
Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow.
Enter Iuliet.
Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot
Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint,
A Louer may bestride the Gossamours,
That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre,
And yet not fall, so light is vanitie.

Iul.
Good euen to my ghostly Confessor.

Fri.
Romeo shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both.

Iul.
As much to him, else in his thanks too much.

Fri.
Ah Iuliet, if the measure of thy ioy
Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue,
Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both
Receiue in either, by this deere encounter.

Iul.
Conceit more rich in matter then in words,
Brags of his substance, not of Ornament:
They are but beggers that can count their worth,
But my true Loue is growne to such such excesse,
I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth.

Fri.
Come, come with me, & we will make short worke,
For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy Church incorporate two in one.
Modern text
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 beloved anywhere.
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,
Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.
Exit
Modern text
Act II, Scene I
Enter Romeo alone

ROMEO
Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
Enter Benvolio with Mercutio. Romeo withdraws

BENVOLIO
Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo!

MERCUTIO
He is wise,
And, on my life, hath stolen 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! Madman! 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 Abraham 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 poppering 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
Modern text
Act II, Scene II

ROMEO
(coming forward)
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
Enter Juliet above
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.
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 eyes 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
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 wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy, puffing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

JULIET
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!
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
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 saint, if either thee dislike.

JULIET
How camest 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 foundest thou out this place?

ROMEO
By love, that first did prompt me to inquire.
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 would 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 swearest,
Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.
Or if thou thinkest 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 overheardest, 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 discovered.

ROMEO
Lady, by yonder blessed 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.
I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu!
Nurse calls within
Anon, good Nurse! – Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.
Exit Juliet

ROMEO
O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Enter Juliet above

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 – But if thou meanest 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 Juliet

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.
Enter Juliet above 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!’

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 years 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,
Remembering 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 her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silken 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 goodnight till it be morrow.
Exit Juliet

ROMEO
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
And darkness fleckled like a drunkard reels
From forth day's pathway made by Titan's wheels.
Hence will I to my ghostly Friar's close cell,
His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.
Exit
Modern text
Act II, Scene III
Enter Friar Laurence alone, with a basket

FRIAR
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb.
What is her burying grave, that is her womb;
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find,
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good but, strained from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this weak flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power.
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, stays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
In man as well as herbs – grace and rude will.
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter Romeo

ROMEO
Good morrow, father.

FRIAR
Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distempered head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
But where unbruised youth with unstuffed brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou art uproused with some distemperature.
Or if not so, then here I hit it right –,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.

ROMEO
That last is true. The sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR
God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline?

ROMEO
With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No.
I have forgot that name and that name's woe.

FRIAR
That's my good son! But where hast thou been then?

ROMEO
I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me
That's by me wounded. Both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies.
I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

FRIAR
Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

ROMEO
Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine,
And all combined, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage. When, and where, and how
We met, we wooed and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass. But this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us today.

FRIAR
Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here!
Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! What a deal of brine
Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears.
Thy old groans yet ring in mine ancient ears.
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline.
And art thou changed? Pronounce this sentence then:
Women may fall when there's no strength in men.

ROMEO
Thou chidst me oft for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

ROMEO
And badest me bury love.

FRIAR
Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to have.

ROMEO
I pray thee chide me not. Her whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow.
The other did not so.

FRIAR
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come, go with me.
In one respect I'll thy assistant be.
For this alliance may so happy prove
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

ROMEO
O, let us hence! I stand on sudden haste.

FRIAR
Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene IV
Enter Benvolio and Mercutio

MERCUTIO
Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came
he not home tonight?

BENVOLIO
Not to his father's. I spoke with his man.

MERCUTIO
Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,
Torments him so that he will sure run mad.

BENVOLIO
Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

MERCUTIO
A challenge, on my life.

BENVOLIO
Romeo will answer it.

MERCUTIO
Any man that can write may answer a letter.

BENVOLIO
Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
dares, being dared.

MERCUTIO
Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! –
stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the
ear with a love song; the very pin of his heart cleft with
the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft. And is he a man to
encounter Tybalt?

BENVOLIO
Why, what is Tybalt?

MERCUTIO
More than Prince of Cats, I can tell you. O,
he's the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as
you sing pricksong: keeps time, distance, and proportion.
He rests his minim rests, one, two, and the third in
your bosom. The very butcher of a silk button. A duellist,
a duellist. A gentleman of the very first house, of the
first and second cause. Ah, the immortal passado! the
punto reverso! the hay!

BENVOLIO
The what?

MERCUTIO
The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
fantasticoes, these new tuners of accent! ‘ By Jesu, a very
good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!’ Why, is
not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be
thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers,
these ‘ pardon-me's ’, who stand so much on the
new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench?
O, their bones, their bones!
Enter Romeo

BENVOLIO
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!

MERCUTIO
Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh,
flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers
that Petrarch flowed in. Laura, to his lady, was a kitchen
wench – marry, she had a better love to berhyme her –
Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gypsy, Helen and Hero
hildings and harlots, Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to
the purpose. Signor Romeo, bon jour. There's a French
salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit
fairly last night.

ROMEO
Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I
give you?

MERCUTIO
The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive?

ROMEO
Pardon, good Mercutio. My business was great,
and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

MERCUTIO
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
constrains a man to bow in the hams.

ROMEO
Meaning, to curtsy.

MERCUTIO
Thou hast most kindly hit it.

ROMEO
A most courteous exposition.

MERCUTIO
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

ROMEO
Pink for flower.

MERCUTIO
Right.

ROMEO
Why, then is my pump well-flowered.

MERCUTIO
Sure wit, follow me this jest now till thou hast
worn out thy pump, that, when the single sole of it
is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely
singular.

ROMEO
O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
singleness!

MERCUTIO
Come between us, good Benvolio! My wits
faint.

ROMEO
Swits and spurs, swits and spurs! or I'll cry a
match.

MERCUTIO
Nay, if our wits run the wild goose chase, I
am done. For thou hast more of the wild goose in one of
thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I
with you there for the goose?

ROMEO
Thou wast never with me for anything when
thou wast not there for the goose.

MERCUTIO
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

ROMEO
Nay, good goose, bite not.

MERCUTIO
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting. It is a most
sharp sauce.

ROMEO
And is it not, then, well served in to a sweet
goose?

MERCUTIO
O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches from
an inch narrow to an ell broad!

ROMEO
I stretch it out for that word ‘ broad ’, which, added
to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

MERCUTIO
Why, is not this better now than groaning for
love? Now art thou sociable. Now art thou Romeo. Now
art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature. For
this drivelling love is like a great natural that runs lolling
up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

BENVOLIO
Stop there, stop there!

MERCUTIO
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against
the hair.

BENVOLIO
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

MERCUTIO
O, thou art deceived! I would have made it
short; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and
meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.

ROMEO
Here's goodly gear!
Enter Nurse and her man, Peter

MERCUTIO
A sail, a sail!

BENVOLIO
Two, two. A shirt and a smock.

NURSE
Peter!

PETER
Anon.

NURSE
My fan, Peter.

MERCUTIO
Good Peter, to hide her face. For her fan's the
fairer face.

NURSE
God ye good-morrow, gentlemen.

MERCUTIO
God ye good-e'en, fair gentlewoman.

NURSE
Is it good-e'en?

MERCUTIO
'Tis no less, I tell ye, for the bawdy hand of
the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

NURSE
Out upon you! What a man are you!

ROMEO
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself
to mar.

NURSE
By my troth, it is well said. ‘ For himself to mar,’
quoth 'a? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I
may find the young Romeo?

ROMEO
I can tell you. But young Romeo will be older
when you have found him than he was when you sought
him. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a
worse.

NURSE
You say well.

MERCUTIO
Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i'faith,
wisely, wisely!

NURSE
If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with
you.

BENVOLIO
She will endite him to some supper.

MERCUTIO
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!

ROMEO
What hast thou found?

MERCUTIO
No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,
that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
He walks by them and sings
An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in Lent.
But a hare that is hoar
Is too much for a score
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner
thither.

ROMEO
I will follow you.

MERCUTIO
Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell. (He sings)
Lady, lady, lady.
Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio

NURSE
I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this that
was so full of his ropery?

ROMEO
A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself
talk and will speak more in a minute than he will stand
to in a month.

NURSE
An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him
down, an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such
Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy
knave! I am none of his flirt-gills. I am none of his
skains-mates. (She turns to Peter her man) And thou
must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at
his pleasure!

PETER
I saw no man use you at his pleasure. If I had, my
weapon should quickly have been out. I warrant you,
I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in
a good quarrel, and the law on my side.

NURSE
Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part
about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word;
and, as I told you, my young lady bid me inquire you
out. What she bid me say, I will keep to myself. But
first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her in a fool's paradise,
as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour,
as they say. For the gentlewoman is young; and therefore,
if you should deal double with her, truly it were an
ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very
weak dealing.

ROMEO
Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I
protest unto thee –

NURSE
Good heart, and i'faith I will tell her as much.
Lord, Lord! She will be a joyful woman.

ROMEO
What wilt thou tell her, Nurse? Thou dost not
mark me.

NURSE
I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

ROMEO
Bid her devise
Some means to come to shrift this afternoon,
And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

NURSE
No, truly, sir. Not a penny.

ROMEO
Go to! I say you shall.

NURSE
This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there.

ROMEO
And stay, good Nurse, behind the abbey wall.
Within this hour my man shall be with thee
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair,
Which to the high topgallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell. Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Farewell. Commend me to thy mistress.

NURSE
Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

ROMEO
What sayest thou, my dear Nurse?

NURSE
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

ROMEO
Warrant thee my man's as true as steel.

NURSE
Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord,
Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing – O there is a
nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife
aboard. But she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a very
toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris is the properer man. But I'll warrant you, when I
say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world.
Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

ROMEO
Ay, Nurse. What of that? Both with an ‘ R.’

NURSE
Ah, mocker! That's the dog's name. ‘ R ’ is for the –
No, I know it begins with some other letter; and she hath
the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that
it would do you good to hear it.

ROMEO
Commend me to thy lady.
Exit Romeo

NURSE
Ay, a thousand times. Peter!

PETER
Anon.

NURSE
Before, and apace.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene V
Enter Juliet

JULIET
The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse.
In half an hour she promised to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him. That's not so.
O, she is lame! Love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glides than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over louring hills.
Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
She would be as swift in motion as a ball.
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me.
But old folks, many feign as they were dead –
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse and Peter
O God, she comes! O honey Nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

NURSE
Peter, stay at the gate.
Exit Peter

JULIET
Now, good sweet Nurse – O Lord, why lookest thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily.
If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

NURSE
I am aweary. Give me leave a while.
Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunce have I!

JULIET
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news.
Nay, come, I pray thee speak. Good, good Nurse, speak.

NURSE
Jesu, what haste! Can you not stay a while?
Do you not see that I am out of breath?

JULIET
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath
To say to me that thou art out of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that.
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance.
Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?

NURSE
Well, you have made a simple choice. You know
not how to choose a man. Romeo? No, not he. Though
his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all
men's; and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though
they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare.
He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as
gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench. Serve God. What,
have you dined at home?

JULIET
No, no. But all this did I know before.
What says he of our marriage? What of that?

NURSE
Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I!
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back a't' other side – ah, my back, my back!
Beshrew your heart for sending me about
To catch my death with jauncing up and down!

JULIET
I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me, what says my love?

NURSE
Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a
courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant,
a virtuous – Where is your mother?

JULIET
Where is my mother? Why, she is within.
Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!
‘ Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
“ Where is your mother? ”’

NURSE
O God's Lady dear!
Are you so hot? Marry come up, I trow.
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

JULIET
Here's such a coil! Come, what says Romeo?

NURSE
Have you got leave to go to shrift today?

JULIET
I have.

NURSE
Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell.
There stays a husband to make you a wife.
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks.
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church. I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark.
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight.
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go. I'll to dinner. Hie you to the cell.

JULIET
Hie to high fortune! Honest Nurse, farewell.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act II, Scene VI
Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo

FRIAR
So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not!

ROMEO
Amen, amen! But come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight.
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare –
It is enough I may but call her mine.

FRIAR
These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so.
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Enter Juliet somewhat fast. She embraces Romeo
Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.
A lover may bestride the gossamers
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall. So light is vanity.

JULIET
Good even to my ghostly confessor.

FRIAR
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

JULIET
As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

ROMEO
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagined happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

JULIET
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament.
They are but beggars that can count their worth.
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

FRIAR
Come, come with me, and we will make short work.
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
Till Holy Church incorporate two in one.
Exeunt
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