The Works of William Shakespeare

150

LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend. All. Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor! Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so, To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe! But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, For nature puts me to a heavy task: Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near, To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, [Kissing Titus. These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, The last true duties of thy noble son!

Marc. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: O, were the sum of these that I should pay Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us 160 To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well: Many a time he danced thee on his knee, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow; Many a matter hath he told to thee, Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; In that respect, then, like a loving child, Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, Because kind nature doth require it so:

Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; 170 Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Young Luc. O grandsire, grandsire ! even with all my heart

Would I were dead, so you did live again!
O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping;
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.

Re-enter Attendants with AARON.

Em. You sad Andronici, have done with woes: Give sentence on this execrable wretch, That hath been breeder of these dire events. Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; 179 There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food: If any one relieves or pities him, For the offence he dies. This is our doom: Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth. Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and fury

dumb?

Luc. Some loving friends convey the emperor hence,

And give him burial in his father's grave:
My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
Be closed in our household's monument.
As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,
No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weeds,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey:
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;
And, being so, shall have like want of pity.
See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor,
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning:
Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt.

200

ROMEO AND
AND JULIET.

ESCALUS, prince of Verona.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

PARIS, a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince.

MONTAGUE, heads of two houses at variance
CAPULET, with each other.

An old man, cousin to Capulet.
ROMEO, Son to Montague.

MERCUTIO, kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo.

BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo.

TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet.

FRIAR LAURENCE, Franciscans.
FRIAR JOHN,

BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo.
SAMPSON,

GREGORY, servants to Capulet.

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 misadventured 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, 10 Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is 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.

SCENE I. Verona. A public place. Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers. Sam. 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
o' the collar.

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.
Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
Sam. A dog of the house of Montague

moves me.

ΙΟ

Gre. To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

PETER, servant to Juliet's nurse. ABRAHAM, servant to Montague. An Apothecary.

Three Musicians.

Page to Paris; another Page; an Officer.

LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague

LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet.

JULIET, daughter to Capulet.

Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.

Chorus.

SCENE: Verona: Mantua.

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 fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and 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.

Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

Gre. How! turn thy back and run?
Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry; I fear thee!

Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

Gre. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.

Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sam. [Aside to Gre.] Is the law of our side, if I say ay?

Gre. No.

And made Verona's ancient citizens

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

sir, but I bite my thumb, sir. Gre. Do you quarrel, sir? Abr. Quarrel, sir! no, sir.

Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as

good a man as you. Abr.

No better.

Sam. Well, sir.

100

To wield old partisans, 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.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me:
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,

Gre. Say 'better:' here comes one of my To know our further pleasure in this case,

master's kinsmen.

Sam. Yes, better, sir.

Abr. You lie.

Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

[They fight.

Enter BENVOLIO.

Ben. Part, fools!
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
[Beats down their swords.
Enter TYBalt.

Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these
heartless hinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

To old Free-town, our common judgement-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 110
[Exeunt all but Montague, Lady Mon-
tague, and Benvolio.
Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new
abroach?

Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
Ben. Here were the servants 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 prepared,
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head and cut the winds,
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: 119
While we were interchanging thrests and blows,

Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy Came more and more and fought on part and part, sword,

Or manage it to part these men with me.

Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace! I
hate the word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!

[They fight.

Till the prince came, who parted either part.
La. Mon. O, where is Ronto? saw you him
to-day?

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

130

Ben. Madam, an hour befor the worshipp❜d sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to valk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth fromne city's side,
So early walking did I see yur son:
Towards him I made, but hevas ware of me
And stole into the covert of je wood:
I, measuring his affections b my own,
That most are busied when hey're most alone,
Pursued my humour not puuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who glaly fled from me.

Mon. Many a morninghath he there been

seen,

140

With tears augmenting theresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clous with his deep sighs;
But all so soon as the all-chering sun
Should in the furthest easpegin to draw
The shady curtains from Arora's bed,
Away from light steals hoe my heavy son,
And private in his chambe pens himself,
Shuts up his windows, locs fair daylight out
And makes himself an articial night:
Black and portentous mus this humour prove,
Unless good counsel mayhe cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, o you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you importned him by any means?
Mon. Both by myself nd many other friends:
But he, his own affection' counsellor,
Is to himself-I will not ay how true-
But to himself so secret nd so close,
So far from sounding a discovery,
As is the bud bit with & envious worm,
Ere he can spread his weet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty.o the sun.

Could we but learn fom whence his sorrows
grow,
160

We would as willingly give cure as know.

714

Enter ROMEO.

Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;

I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
[Exeunt Montague and Lady.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom.
Is the day so young?
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom.
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's
hours?

170

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes
the short.
Ben. Ibve?
Rom. Cut-
Ben. Of ove?

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so trannous and rough in proof!

Rom, Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,

Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we line? O me! What fray was

here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 180
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos o well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, light smoke, cold fire,

health!

Still-waking sleep, dat is not what it is! This love feel I, the feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh

Ben.

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. 'Tis the way

Rom.

To call hers exquisite, in question more: These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note sick 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. [Exeunt.

To, coz, I rather weep. 189 Rom. Good hear at what?

Ben.

Aty good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such slove's transgression. Griefs of mine own li heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt prop this love that thou hast gate, to have it prest With more of thine ou

shown

SCENE II. A street.

Enter CAPULET, Paris, and Servant. Cap. But 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.

240

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, 10 200 Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Doth add more grief too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raise with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire arkling in lovers' eyes;
ish'd with lovers' tears:
Being vex'd, a sea no
What is it else? a ma
Jess most discreet,
A choking gall and a p
eserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

Ben.

Soft I will go along; An if you leave me so, ou do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have lo myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. Rom. What, shall I roan and tell thee? Groan! why, no;

Ben.

But sadly tell me who.

Rom. Bid a sick man
Ah, word ill urged to one
In sadness, cousin, I do 1 ve a woman.

1 sadness make his will:
that is so ill!

Ben. I aim'd so near
loved.
Rom. A right good m
fair I love. 4

210

when I supposed you

ark-man! And she's

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,

30 And like her most whose merit most shall be: †Which on more view, of many mine being one May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me. [To Serv., giving a paper.] Go, sirrah, trudge about

Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure 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 burning,

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.

50
Rom. Your plaintain-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 mad-
man is;

Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented and-God-den, good fellow.

Serv. God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 60 Serv. Perhaps you have learned 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 lady 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: whither should they come?
Serv. Up.

Rom.

Whither?

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! [Exit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; 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 poised with herself in either eye:
But in that 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 scant show well that now shows
best.

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What is your will?

Your mother. Madam, I am here.

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's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. 10
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, to my teen be it spoken, I have but
four,-

She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?

La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. Nurse. 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 wean'd,-I 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 :

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The Works of William Shakespeare: The Globe Edition. Edited by William ...