Page images
PDF
EPUB

Scene 11.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

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 mutiled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray was
here?

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.
'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 :
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair?
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
[Exeunt.
love:-Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
SCENE II-A street. Enter Capulet, Paris,
and Servant.

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
any thing, 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?

Ben

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 thou hast shown,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

[Going.

Soft, I will go along ;
Ben.
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.

But sadly tell me, who.

Groan? why, no;

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his
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 suppos'd you lov'd.
Rom. A right good marksman! And she's fair
I love.

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 liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

Cap. But saving 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;
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Let two more summers wither in their pride,

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;
And 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
Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel
will:-Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:
When well-apparell'd April on the heel.
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
Come, go with me ;-Go, sirrah, trudge about
Whose names are written there, [Gives a paper,]
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
and to them say,

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 eves,
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,

[blocks in formation]

My house and welcome on their pleasures stay.
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.

Serv. Find them out, whose names are written meddle with his vard, and the tailor with his last, here? It is written-that the shoemaker should nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his 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.

(6) Estimation.

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.

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 mad-
man 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.

[blocks in formation]

Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before.

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 lov'st;
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 pois'd 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 scant 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.

I

[blocks in formation]

We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again;
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, 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 :-
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?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule? 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,
never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jude?
quoth he:

I

And, pretty fool, it stinted," and said—Ay.
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy

[blocks in formation]

(1) We still say in cant language-to crack a lection. bottle.

[blocks in formation]

(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? it stinted, and said-Ay.

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to
his grace!!

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 of:-Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married!

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, 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,
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
La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such
flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith,

991

[graphic]

SCENE IV-A street. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers, Torchbearers, and others.

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse!

Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such, prolixity:5
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.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you
dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes,
With nimble soles: I have a sole of lead,
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.

To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull wo:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

very
Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
gen-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

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 10 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. 11

Mer. 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.

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.
But 'tis no wit to go.
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask;

Mer.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer.

(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,

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things| SCENE V.—A hall in Capulet's house. Musi

[blocks in formation]

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an old alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies1
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams:
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film:
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazle-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of
love:

On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight:

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:2
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horses in the night;
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This, this is she-

Rom.
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk'st of nothing.
Mer.

True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

cians waiting. Enter Servants.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher? 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

4

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate:-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!

2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too,Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind.

Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests, and the Maskers.

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have their

toes

Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you:-
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she,
I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you now
You are welcome, gentlemen: I have seen the day,
That I have worn a visor; and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis
gone:

You are welcome, gentlemen.-Come, musicians, play.

A hall! a hall give room, and foot it, girls.

[Music plays, and they dance.

More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.-
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

[blocks in formation]

Of yonder knight?
Serv. I know not, sir.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our- Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

[blocks in formation]

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague :

(4) A cupboard set in a corner, like a beaufet, on which the plate was placed. (5) Almond-cake. (7) The dance.

(6) i. e. Make room.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

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 sín.

1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore
storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?
Tyb.
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
1 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,
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
I'll not endure him.

1 Cap.
He shall be endur'd;
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!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

[graphic]

393

Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:
I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her,
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
Shall have the chinks.

Rom.
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Is she a Capulet?
Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
1 Cap. 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, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.
Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not
dance?

(4) Faith.

(5) i. e. Himself.

« PreviousContinue »