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