The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Scene II.

Capulet’s orchard.

Enter Juliet alone.

Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus’ lodging! Such a wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the West And bring in cloudy night immediately.

Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway eyes may wink, and Romeo Leap to these arms untalk’d of and unseen.

Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.

Hood my unmann’d blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty.

Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow’d night; Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess’d it; and though I am sold, Not yet enjoy’d. So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival

To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, Enter Nurse, with cords.

And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence.

Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords That Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.

[Throws them down.]

Jul. Ay me! what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands Nurse. Ah, weraday! he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead!

We are undone, lady, we are undone!

Alack the day! he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead!

Jul. Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse. Romeo can,

Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo!

Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

Jul. What devil art thou that dost torment me thus?

This torture should be roar’d in dismal hell.

Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but ‘I,’

And that bare vowel ‘I’ shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.

I am not I, if there be such an ‘I’;

Or those eyes shut that make thee answer ‘I.’

If be be slain, say ‘I’; or if not, ‘no.’

Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, (God save the mark!) here on his manly breast.

A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub’d in blood, All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight.

Jul. O, break, my heart! poor bankrout, break at once!

To prison, eyes; ne’er look on liberty!

Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here, And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!

O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman

That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary?

Is Romeo slaught’red, and is Tybalt dead?

My dear-lov’d cousin, and my dearer lord?

Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!

For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill’d him, he is banished.

Jul. O God! Did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood?

Nurse. It did, it did! alas the day, it did!

Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow’ring face!

Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?

Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!

Dove-feather’d raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!

Despised substance of divinest show!

Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st-A damned saint, an honourable villain!

O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?

Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!

Nurse. There’s no trust,

No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur’d, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.

Ah, where’s my man? Give me some aqua vitae.

These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.

Shame come to Romeo!

Jul. Blister’d be thy tongue

For such a wish! He was not born to shame.

Upon his brow shame is asham’d to sit; For ‘tis a throne where honour may be crown’d Sole monarch of the universal earth.

O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill’d your cousin?

Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?

Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?

But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?

That villain cousin would have kill’d my husband.

Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!

Your tributary drops belong to woe,

Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.

My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband.

All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?

Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death, That murd’red me. I would forget it fain; But O, it presses to my memory

Like damned guilty deeds to sinners’ minds!

‘Tybalt is dead, and Romeo-banished.’

That ‘banished,’ that one word ‘banished,’

Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death Was woe enough, if it had ended there; Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship And needly will be rank’d with other griefs, Why followed not, when she said ‘Tybalt’s dead,’

Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, Which modern lamentation might have mov’d?

But with a rearward following Tybalt’s death, ‘Romeo is banished’- to speak that word Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. ‘Romeo is banished’-

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word’s death; no words can that woe sound.

Where is my father and my mother, nurse?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt’s corse.

Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment.

Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil’d, Both you and I, for Romeo is exil’d.

He made you for a highway to my bed;

But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.

Come, cords; come, nurse. I’ll to my wedding bed; And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Nurse. Hie to your chamber. I’ll find Romeo To comfort you. I wot well where he is.

Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night.

I’ll to him; he is hid at Laurence’ cell.

Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight And bid him come to take his last farewell.

Exeunt.

Scene III.

Friar Laurence’s cell.

Enter Friar [Laurence].

Friar. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man.

Affliction is enanmour’d of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. Father, what news? What is the Prince’s doom What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand That I yet know not?

Friar. Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company.

I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom.

Rom. What less than doomsday is the Prince’s doom?

Friar. A gentler judgment vanish’d from his lips-Not body’s death, but body’s banishment.

Rom. Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say ‘death’; For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death. Do not say ‘banishment.’

Friar. Hence from Verona art thou banished.

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished is banish’d from the world, And world’s exile is death. Then ‘banishment’

Is death misterm’d. Calling death ‘banishment,’

Thou cut’st my head off with a golden axe And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

Friar. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!

Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince, Taking thy part, hath rush’d aside the law, And turn’d that black word death to banishment.

This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. ‘Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her; But Romeo may not. More validity,

More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not-he is banished.

This may flies do, when I from this must fly; They are free men, but I am banished.

And sayest thou yet that exile is not death?

Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean, But ‘banished’ to kill me- ‘banished’?

O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess’d, To mangle me with that word ‘banished’?

Friar. Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak.

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar. I’ll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy,

To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet ‘banished’? Hang up philosophy!

Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,

Displant a town, reverse a prince’s doom, It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more.

Friar. O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?

Friar. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Knock [within].

Friar. Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.

Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. Knock.

Friar. Hark, how they knock! Who’s there? Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken.- Stay awhile!- Stand up; Knock.

Run to my study.- By-and-by!- God’s will, What simpleness is this.- I come, I come! Knock.

Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? What’s your will Nurse. [within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand.

I come from Lady Juliet.

Friar. Welcome then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar Where is my lady’s lord, where’s Romeo?

Friar. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress’ case, Just in her case!

Friar. O woeful sympathy!

Piteous predicament!

Nurse. Even so lies she,

Blubb’ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering.

Stand up, stand up! Stand, an you be a man.

For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand!

Why should you fall into so deep an O?

Rom. (rises) Nurse—

Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death’s the end of all.

Rom. Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her?

Doth not she think me an old murtherer, Now I have stain’d the childhood of our joy With blood remov’d but little from her own?

Where is she? and how doth she! and what says My conceal’d lady to our cancell’d love?

Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, And Tybalt calls; and then