Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join the Fray; then enter CITIZENS, with Clubs. 1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! Strike! beat them down! Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! Enter CAPULET, in his Gown ; and Lady CAPULET. Cap. What noise is this?-Give me my long sword, ho! La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!—Why call you for a sword? Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter MONTAGUE and Lady MONTAGUE. Men. Thou villain Capulet,-Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. Enter PRINCE, with Attendants. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun That most are busied when they are most alone,- Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, Black and portentons must this humour prove, • Clubs! was the usual exclamation at an affray in the streets, as we now call Watch! ↑ Angry. * Appeared. Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ? Mon. 1 neither know it, nor can learn of him. Ben. Have you impórtuned him by any means? Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends: But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself-I will not say, how trueBut to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bad bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know. Enter ROMEO, at a distance. Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. Ah me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was:-What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Rom. Not having that, which having, makes them short. Ben. In love? Rom. Out Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will ! Where shall we dine?-0 me!-What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. [Going. Ben. Soft, I will go along; Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. But sadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. Rom. A right good marks-man-And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty; only poor, That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste? In seriousness. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starved with her severity, She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow, Ben. Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more: SCENE II-A Street. Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and SERVANT. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis, you lived at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you, among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light: Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel When well-apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me ;-Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out, Whose names are written there, (Gives a Paper.] and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasures stay. [Exeunt Capulet and Paris. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written-that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned :-In good time. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's ing, Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madinan is: Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fellow. Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, Sir, can you read ? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads. Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The luly widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine: Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note:] Whither, should they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? « Serv. To supper; to our house, Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that be fore. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. [Erit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires! And these, who, often drown'd, could never die,— Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! The all-seeing sun best. Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shewn, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt. SCENE III-A Room in Capulet's House. Enter Lady CAPULET and NURSE. La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head,-at twelve year old, I bade her come.-What, lamb! What, lady-bird - Jul. How now, who calls? La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our coun sel. burn-Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. La. Cap. She's not fourteen. One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish: Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. Ben. For what, I pray thee? Rom. For your broken ship. ⚫i.e. What end does it answer? + Account, estimation. an and she,-God rest all Christian souls!Here of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; He was too good for me: but, as I said, Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen: hat shall she, marry; I remember it well. since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,all the days of the year, upon that day: I had then laid wormwood to my dug, ing in the sun under the dove-house wall, A lord and you were then at Mantua:Say, I do bear a brain-But, as I said, hen it did taste the wormwood on the nipple my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. Sake, quoth the dove house: 'twas no need, trow, 7 bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years: La. Cup. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? Jul. P'il look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. Enter a SERVANT. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the I nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood †, She could have run and waddled all about. Preven the day before, she broke her brow: dad then my husband-God be with his soul! was a merry man ;-took up the child: Yea, quoth he, dost thou full upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit; it thou not, Jule? and, by my holy-dam, The pretty wretch left crying, and said-Ay: see now, how a jest shall come about! warrant, an I should live a thousand years, never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth he: and, pretty fool, it stinted §, and said—Ay. La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy 14. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of-Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married? Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. P'd say, Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, thou hast suck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, are made already mothers: by my count, was your mother much upon these years, That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief;The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Nurse. A man, young lady! Lady, such a man, all the world-Why, he's a man of wax ¶. La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nav, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. La. Cap. What say you? Can you love the gen tleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast: This The fish lives in the seatt; and 'tis much pride, e. I have a perfect remembrance or recollection. + The cross. Holy dame, i. e. the blessed Virgin. Favour. Well made, as if he had been modelled in "The comments on ancient books were always rinted in the margin. i. e. Is not yet caught, whose skin was wanted bind him. La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt. Or shall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: Being but heavy, I will bear the light. dance. Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead, Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, Mer. And to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing. Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.Give me a case to put my visage in; [Putting on a Mask. A visor for a visor!-What care I, What curious eye doth quote | deformities? Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs. Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes ¶ with their heels; The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done **. word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. i. e. Long speeches are out of fashion A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten A dance. A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers. Observe. crows. It was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes. **This is equivalent to phrases in common use--I am done for, it is over with me. you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: Rom Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives, Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels; and expire the term [Exeunt play. A hall! A hall! Give room, and foot it girls. 2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. 1 Cap. What man! 'Tis not so much, 'tis not so much: bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, Tyb. 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. 1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; 1 Cap. Young Romeo is't? Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. I Cap. 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 this 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, Shew a fair presence, and put off these frowns, And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. Tub. It fits, when such a villain is a guest; I'll not endure him. 1 Cap. He shall be endured; A cupboard set in a corner, like a beaufet, on which the plate was placed. + Almond cake. 1 i. e. Make room. The dance. An Ethiopian, a black. You must contráry me! Marry, 'tis time- Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. [To Juliet. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shews in this; Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, Being held a foe, he may not have access SCENE I.-An open Place, adjoining Capulet's Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here ? For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. ers' sake. Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thas from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly Gave me my sin again. Jal. You kiss by the book, [He climbs the Wall, and leaps down within it. Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Call, good Mercutio. Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. Romeo! Humours! Madman! Passion! Lover! Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. man? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? Nurse. I know not. Jul. 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; Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, That in thy likeness thou appear to us. Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt 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 mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him. Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those To be consorted with the humorous night: Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain SCENE II.-Capulet's Garden. [One calls within, Juliet. Beggar. This phrase in Skakspeare's time was used As an expression of tenderness. Humid, moist. |