The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) π
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.
10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire:
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind,
Shall hate be fairer lodged than
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Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Enter Juliet.
Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot Will neβer wear out the everlasting flint.
A lover may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Friar. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heapβd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich musicβs tongue Unfold the imaginβd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.
Jul. 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 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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ACT III. Scene I.
A public place.
Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Men.
Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, letβs retire.
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad.
And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Mer. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says βGod send me no need of thee!β and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
Ben. Am I like such a fellow?
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
Ben. And what to?
Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast.
Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrellβd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with another for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
Mer. The fee simple? O simple!
Enter Tybalt and others.
Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den. A word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us?
Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.
Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.
Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.
Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Hereβs my fiddlestick; hereβs that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!
Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men.
Either withdraw unto some private place And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Menβs eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.
I will not budge for no manβs pleasure, Enter Romeo.
Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.
Mer. But Iβll be hangβd, sir, if he wear your livery.
Marry, go before to field, heβll be your follower!
Your worship in that sense may call him man.
Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this: thou art a villain.
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting. Villain am I none.
Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
Rom. I do protest I never injurβd thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise Till thou shalt know the reason of my love; And so good Capulet, which name I tender As dearly as mine own, be satisfied.
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws.]
Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?
Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me?
Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives. That I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
Tyb. I am for you. [Draws.]
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado!
[They fight.]
Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame! forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!
Tybalt under Romeoβs arm thrusts Mercutio in, and flies [with his Followers].
Mer. I am hurt.
A plague oβ both your houses! I am sped.
Is he gone and hath nothing?
Ben. What, art thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, βtis enough.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page.]
Rom. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No, βtis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but βtis enough, βtwill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague oβ both your houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
Rom. I thought all for the best.
Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague oβ both your houses!
They have made wormsβ meat of me. I have it, And soundly too. Your houses!
[Exit. [supported by Benvolio].
Rom. This gentleman, the Princeβs near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf-my reputation stainβd
With Tybaltβs slander-Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman. O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper softβned valourβs steel Enter Benvolio.
Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutioβs dead!
That gallant spirit hath aspirβd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Rom. This dayβs black fate on moe days doth depend; This but begins the woe others must end.
Enter Tybalt.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain?
Away to heaven respective lenity,
And fire-eyβd fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the βvillainβ back again That late thou gavest me; for Mercutioβs soul Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
Rom. This shall determine that.
They fight. Tybalt falls.
Ben. Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
Stand not amazβd. The Prince will doom thee death If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!
Rom. O, I am fortuneβs fool!
Ben. Why dost thou stay?
Exit Romeo.
Enter Citizens.
Citizen. Which way ran he that killβd Mercutio?
Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he?
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.
Citizen. Up, sir, go with me.
I charge thee in the Princeβs name obey.
Enter Prince [attended], Old Montague, Capulet, their Wives, and [others].
Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
Ben. O noble Prince. I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl.
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
Cap. Wife. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brotherβs child!
O Prince! O husband! O, the blood is spillβd Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.
O cousin, cousin!
Prince. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeoβs hand did stay.
Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urgβd withal Your high displeasure. All this-uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowβd-Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutioβs breast; Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud,
βHold, friends! friends, part!β and swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And βtwixt them rushes; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; But by-and-by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertainβd revenge, And toβt they go like lightning; for, ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain; And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
Cap. Wife. He is a kinsman to the Montague; Affection makes him false, he speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give.
Romeo slew Tybalt; Romeo must not live.
Prince. Romeo slew him; he slew Mercutio.
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
Mon. Not Romeo, Prince; he was Mercutioβs friend; His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt.
Prince. And for that offence
Immediately we do exile him hence.
I have an interest in your hateβs proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But Iβll amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will.
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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