網頁圖片
PDF
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

PROLOGUE. Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, ls now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

-

ACT I.

SCENTE I—A public place. Enter Sampson and Gregory, armed with swords and bucklers.

Sampson.

GREGORY, o'my word, we'll not carry coals. Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar. Sam. I strike quickly, .# moved. Gre. But thou art not o moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move, is-to stir; and to be valiant, is— to stand to it: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to

(1) A phrase formerly in use to signify the bear2ng trajuries.

stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:— therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men. Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have sought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. Gre. The heads of the maids? Sam, Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand; and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'Tis well, thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John.” Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.”

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, Will they nothear?—what ho!youmen, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd? weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince.— Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet and Montague, #. thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets; And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partizans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

(1) Clubs! was the usual exclamation at an af. fray in the streets, as we now call Watch!

For this time, all the rest depart away:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men .."
[Exe. Prince, and Attendants; Capulet, Lady
Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and Servants.
JMon. §. set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it P
P. #. were o of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepard;
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted . part.
La. JMon. O, where is ?—saw you him
to-day 2
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad
Where, underneath the grove of syeanore,
That westward rooteth from the city's side,-
So early walking did I see your son:
Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I, measuring his affections by my own,
That most are busied when they are most alone,—
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
JMon. Many a mornin *. he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs:
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out,
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless ...counsel may the cause remove.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
JMon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you impôrtun'd him by any means?
JMon. Both by myself, and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' o.
Is to himself—I will not say, how true—
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud 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.
JMon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift—Come, madam, let's away
[Ereunt Montague and Lady.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom. Is the day so young?
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom. h me! sad hours seem long.

(2) Angry. (3) Appeared.

Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was:–What sadness lengthens Ro-
meo'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#. in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.
Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see §o to his will!
Where shall ye dine?—O me!—What fray was

ere: Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love:Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! Q anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms: Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health; Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is 'This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? era. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.— Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love, that thouhast shown, Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke o with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; i. o a sea . lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. [Going. Ben. Soft, I will go along; And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan: why, no; But sadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:— Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!— In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppod ou lov’d. Rom. A o good marksman!—And she's fair ove. Ben. A right fair mark, fair cow, is soonest hit. Rom. Wi. 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, Norbide 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? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair,

(1) In seriousness. (2) . e. What end does it answer. (3) Account, estimation.

To merit bliss by making me despair:
She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.
Ben. Be rul’d 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:
These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows,
Being §§ put us in mind they hide the fair;
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesightlost:
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve,” but as a note
Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
[Ereunt.

[blocks in formation]

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, i. liv'd 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 o: 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; o 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. [Ereunt 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.

(4) To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess. (5) Estimation.

Enter Benvolio and Romeo.

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's of. Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperategriefcures 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 shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and—Good-e'en, good fellow. Serv. God read Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read anything you see? Rom. Åy, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say o: Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads.

Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Walentine: JMine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; JMy fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Walentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.

A fair assembly; [Gives back the note.] Whither should they come?

Serv. Up.
Rosh. Whither?
Serv. To supper; to our house.
Rom. Whose house?
Serv. My master's.
Rom. o, I should have asked you that be-

[ocr errors]

ore. 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 Capolet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona: Gothither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. 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 Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun. Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'do with herself in either eye : But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you, shining at this feast, And she shall scanto show well, that now shows best. Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]
[merged small][ocr errors]

Enter Juliet. Jul. How now, who calls? .Nurse. Your mother. . Jul. Madam, I am here.

What is your will?
Cap. This is the matter:—Nurse, give leave
a while,
We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
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.
.Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
And yet, tomy teen" beitspoken, I have but four, -
She is not fourteen: How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days.
JNurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she, God rest all Christian souls —
Were of an age.—Well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me: But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen:
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was :* never shall forget it,
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua:—
Nay, I do bear a brain:*—but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug.
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge.
And since that time it is eleven years:
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,”
She could have run and waddled all about
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband—God be with his soul!
'A was a merry man;–took up the child:
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face 2
Thou will fall backward, when thou hast more trit;
Wilt thou not, Jule 2 and by my holy-dam,”
The pretty wretch left crying, and said–Ay:
To see now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule?
quoth he:
And, pretty fool, it stinted,” and said—oy.
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy
*ace.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

(5) i. e. I have a perfect remembrance or recolection.

(6) The cross.

(7) Holy dame, i.e. the blessed Virgin.

(8) It stopped crying.

A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to

age; Wilt thou not, Jule 2 it stinted, and said–Ay. Jul. And stint thoutoo, I pray thee, nurse, say I. .Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace si * Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk o o §. How stands your disposition to be married' Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. Wurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I d say, thou hadst 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, I 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, As all the world—Why, he's a man of wax.2 Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. .Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast: Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies, Find written in the margin of his eyes.” This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea;" and 'tis much pride, For fair without the fair within to hide: That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less. JNurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by inen. La. Cap. speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? Jul. I'll 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.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

SCE.WE IV.-A street. Enter Romeo, Mercu-
tio, Benvolio, with five or sir Maskers, Torch-
bearers, and others.
Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our
excuse?
Orshall we on without apology?
Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:*
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;"
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance:
But, let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure,” and be gone.
Rom. Give me a torch,”—I am not for this am
bling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
JMer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you
ance.
Rom. Not I, believeme: you have dancing shoes,
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.
JMer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull wo:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
JMer, And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
Too great or. for a tender thing.
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Toorude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn.
JMer. 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 *f; 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 rusheslo with their heels;
For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase,
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done."
JMer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own
word:
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears.-Come, we burn day-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Ier. 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.
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.
JM

er. Why, may one ask? Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. JMer. “And so did 1. Rom. Well, what was yours? ..Mer. hat dreamers often lie. (7) A dance.

(8) A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers.

(9) Observe.

(10) It was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes.

(11). This is equivalent to phrases in common use—I am done, for, it is over with me.

« 上一頁繼續 »