Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (top e book reader .txt) 📕

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MERCUTIO: Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses! They have made worms’ meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses!

[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.] ROMEO: This gentleman, the prince’s near ally,

My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt

In my behalf; my reputation stain’d

With Tybalt’s slander,—Tybalt, that an hour

Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften’d valor’s steel!

 

[Re-enter BENVOLIO.]

 

BENVOLIO: O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,

Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

 

ROMEO: This day’s black fate on more days doth de pend;

This but begins the woe, others must end.

BENVOLIO: Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

 

ROMEO: Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity,

And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! [Re-enter TYBALT.]

Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,

That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio’s 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.

 

TYBALT: Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,

Shalt with him hence.

ROMEO: This shall determine that. [They fight; TYBALT falls.]

BENVOLIO: Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.

Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,

If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! ROMEO: O, I am fortune’s fool!

BENVOLIO: Why dost thou stay? [Exit ROMEO.]

[Enter Citizens, &c.]

First Citizen: Which way ran he that kill’d Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?

 

BENVOLIO: There lies that Tybalt.

 

First Citizen: Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the princes name, obey.

[Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their

Wives, and others]

PRINCE: Where are the vile beginners of this fray? BENVOLIO: 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.

 

LADY CAPULET: Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother’s child!

O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt

O 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? BENVOLIO: Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did

slay;

Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered

With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow’d, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen

Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts

With piercing steel at bold Mercutio’s 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,

‘Hold, friends! friends, part!’ and, swifter than his tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,

And ‘twixt 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 entertain’d revenge, And to ‘t 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.

 

LADY CAPULET: 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?

MONTAGUE: Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio’s 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 hate’s proceeding,

My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But I’ll 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’s found, that hour is his last.

Bear hence this body and attend our will: Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

 

[Exeunt.] SCENE II: Capulet’s orchard.

[Enter JULIET.]

 

JULIET: Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,

Towards Phoebus’ lodging: such a wagoner

As Phaethon would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately.

Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway’s 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 on 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, And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence.

 

[Enter Nurse, with cords.]

 

Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there?

the cords

That Romeo bid thee fetch?

 

Nurse: Ay, ay, the cords. [Throws them down.]

JULIET: Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?

 

Nurse: Ah, well-a-day! 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! JULIET: Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse: Romeo can, Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

 

JULIET: 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 he 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.

JULIET: O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, 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!

 

JULIET: What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter’d, and is Tybalt dead?

My dear-loved 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.

 

JULIET: O God! did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood? Nurse: It did, it did; alas the day, it did!

JULIET: O serpent heart, hid with a flowering 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 honorable villain!

O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In moral 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 perjured, 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!

 

JULIET: Blister’d be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;

For ’tis a throne where honor 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?

 

JULIET: 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 murder’d 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 follow’d not, when she said ‘Tybalt’s dead,’ Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,

Which modern lamentations might have moved? But with a rear-ward 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.

 

JULIET: 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 beguiled, Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:

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.

 

JULIET: 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 LAURENCE: Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:

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

 

[Enter ROMEO.]

ROMEO: Father, what news? what is the prince’s doom?

What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?

 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company:

I bring thee tidings of the prince’s doom.

ROMEO: What less than dooms-day is the prince’s doom? FRIAR LAURENCE: A gentler judgment vanish’d from

his lips,

Not body’s death, but body’s banishment.

 

ROMEO: Ha, banishment! be merciful, say ‘death;’ For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death: do not say ‘banishment.’

 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Hence from Verona art thou ban ished:

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

 

ROMEO: 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 banished,

Is death mis-term’d: calling death banishment, Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe,

And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

 

FRIAR LAURENCE: 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.

 

ROMEO: ’Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,