Complete Plays, The Read online

  Tybalt

  This, by his voice, should be a Montague.

  Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave

  Come hither, cover’d with an antic face,

  To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

  Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,

  To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

  Capulet

  Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

  Tybalt

  Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,

  A villain that is hither come in spite,

  To scorn at our solemnity this night.

  Capulet

  Young Romeo is it?

  Tybalt

  ’Tis he, that villain Romeo.

  Capulet

  Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;

  He bears him like a portly gentleman;

  And, to say truth, Verona brags of him

  To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth:

  I would not for the wealth of all the town

  Here in my house do him disparagement:

  Therefore be patient, take no note of him:

  It is my will, the which if thou respect,

  Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,

  And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

  Tybalt

  It fits, when such a villain is a guest:

  I’ll not endure him.

  Capulet

  He shall be endured:

  What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;

  Am I the master here, or you? go to.

  You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!

  You’ll make a mutiny among my guests!

  You will set cock-a-hoop! you’ll be the man!

  Tybalt

  Why, uncle, ’tis a shame.

  Capulet

  Go to, go to;

  You are a saucy boy: is’t so, indeed?

  This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:

  You must contrary me! marry, ’tis time.

  Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:

  Be quiet, or — More light, more light! For shame!

  I’ll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!

  Tybalt

  Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting

  Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.

  I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall

  Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.

  Exit

  Romeo

  [To Juliet] If I profane with my unworthiest hand

  This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

  My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

  To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

  Juliet

  Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

  Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

  For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,

  And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

  Romeo

  Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

  Juliet

  Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

  Romeo

  O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

  They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

  Juliet

  Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

  Romeo

  Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.

  Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

  Juliet

  Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

  Romeo

  Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

  Give me my sin again.

  Juliet

  You kiss by the book.

  Nurse

  Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

  Romeo

  What is her mother?

  Nurse

  Marry, bachelor,

  Her mother is the lady of the house,

  And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous

  I nursed her daughter, that you talk’d withal;

  I tell you, he that can lay hold of her

  Shall have the chinks.

  Romeo

  Is she a Capulet?

  O dear account! my life is my foe’s debt.

  Benvolio

  Away, begone; the sport is at the best.

  Romeo

  Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

  Capulet

  Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;

  We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.

  Is it e’en so? why, then, I thank you all

  I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.

  More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed.

  Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:

  I’ll to my rest.

  Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse

  Juliet

  Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?

  Nurse

  The son and heir of old Tiberio.

  Juliet

  What’s he that now is going out of door?

  Nurse

  Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.

  Juliet

  What’s he that follows there, that would not dance?

  Nurse

  I know not.

  Juliet

  Go ask his name: if he be married.

  My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

  Nurse

  His name is Romeo, and a Montague;

  The only son of your great enemy.

  Juliet

  My only love sprung from my only hate!

  Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

  Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

  That I must love a loathed enemy.

  Nurse

  What’s this? what’s this?

  Juliet

  A rhyme I learn’d even now

  Of one I danced withal.

  One calls within ‘Juliet.’

  Nurse

  Anon, anon!

  Come, let’s away; the strangers all are gone.

  Exeunt

  ACT II

  PROLOGUE

  Enter Chorus

  Chorus

  Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,

  And young affection gapes to be his heir;

  That fair for which love groan’d for and would die,

  With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair.

  Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,

  Alike betwitched 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 any where:

  But passion lends them power, time means, to meet

  Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

  Exit

  SCENE I. A LANE BY THE WALL OF CAPULET’S ORCHARD.

  Enter Romeo

  Romeo

  Can I go forward when my heart is here?

  Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

  He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it

  Enter Benvolio and Mercutio

  Benvolio

  Romeo! my cousin Romeo!

  Mercutio

  He is wise;

  And, on my lie, hath stol’n him home to bed.

  Benvolio

  He ran this way, and leap’d 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 nick-name for her purblind son and heir,

  Young Adam 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

  And 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, and in his mistres s’ 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.

  Romeo, that she were, O, that she were

  An open et caetera, thou a poperin 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

  SCENE II. CAPULET’S ORCHARD.

  Enter Romeo

  Romeo

  He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

  Juliet appears above at a window

  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-pacing 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 name would smell as sweet;

  So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,

  Retain that dear perfection which he owes

  Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

  And for that 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 bescreen’d 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 not yet drunk a hundred words

  Of that tongue’s utterance, 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’er-perch these walls;

  For stony limits cannot hold love out,

  And what love can do that dares love attempt;

  Therefore thy kinsmen are no let 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 sight;

  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 found’st thou out this place?

  Romeo

  By love, who 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 wash’d with the farthest sea,

  I would adventure for such merchandise.

  Juliet

  Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face,

  Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

  For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night

  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 swear’st,

  Thou mayst prove false; at lovers’ perjuries

  Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,

  If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:

  Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,

  I’ll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,

  So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.

  In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,

&nbs
p; And therefore thou mayst think my ’havior 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 overheard’st, ere I was ware,

  My true love’s 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 swear

  That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops —

  Juliet

  O, swear not by the moon, the 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 to-night:

  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 to-night?

  Romeo

  The 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.

  Nurse calls within

  I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!

  Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.

  Stay but a little, I will come again.

  Exit, above

  Romeo

  O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.

  Being in night, all this is but a dream,

  Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

  Re-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 to-morrow,

  By one that I’ll procure to come to thee,

  Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;