Scene I.

Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well: Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,

Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman, Till holy church incorporate two in one.

And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,

And, I warrant, a virtuous:-Where is your mother?

Jul. Where is my mother?-why, she is within ; Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st!

Your love says like an honest gentleman,

Where is your mother?

Nurse.

O, God's lady dear!

Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Jul. Here's such a coil,-come, what says Ro

meo?

Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrist to-day?
Jul. I have.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar

Laurence' cell,

There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honest nurse, fare

well.

SCENE VI.-Friar Laurence's cell.
Friar Laurence and Romeo.

act,

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-A public place. Enter Mercutio,
Benvolio, Page, and Servants.

Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow? Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should [Exeunt. have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath Enter a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy Lout such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy
That after hours with sorrow chide us not!
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare.
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady:-0, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossamers2
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.

Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us

both.

Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.

Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon' it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth:
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

the air.

Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-simple? O simple!

Enter Tybalt, and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us ? Couple
it with something; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,-Mer. Consort? what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men;
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let
them gaze;

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

(3) Paint, display. (4) Imagination.

{

1

1

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir; here comes
my man.

Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your
livery:
Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
Your worship, in that sense, may call him-man.
Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.

Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love
thee

Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting:-Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me not.

Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.
Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearly as mine own,-be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
A la stoccata1 carries it awav.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

[Draws.

Tyb. What would'st thou have with me?
Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your
nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain :

pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about If thou art taken: -hence!-be gone!-away!

Shalt with him hence.
Rom.

This shall determine that.
[They fight; Tybalt falls.

!

Ben. Romeo, away, be gone!

as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of
the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his

Stand not amaz'd:-the prince will doom thee

death,

your ears ere it be out.

Rom. O! I am fortune's fool!

Tyb. I am for you.

[Drawing.

Ben.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio;

Enter Citizens, &-c.

1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio?

Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.
1 Cit.

Up, sir, go with me;

Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight.

Beat down their weapons:-Gentlemen, for shame
Forbear this outrage; -Tybalt-Mercutio-
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying

In Verona streets: - Hold, Tybalt; -good Mercutio.
[Exeunt Tybalt and his Partizans.

Mer. I am hurt :

I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.

Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their
wives, and others.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
There lies the man slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin!-0 my brother's

child!

Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spilled for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave Of my dear kinsman!-Prince, as thou art true, man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world:- For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.

A plague o'both your houses?-Zounds, a dog, a

rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a
braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book
of arithmetic!-Why, the devil, came you between
us? I was hurt under your arm.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint-A plague o'both your houses!
They have made worm's meat of me:

I have it, and soundly too: -Your houses!

[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.

Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman:-O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,

(1) The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a
rapier.
(3) Case or scabbard.

Not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,

And she brings news; and every tongue that

speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.

Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain; Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there?

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine

eyes,- [Exeunt.

Come, night!-Come, Romeo!-come, thou day in Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did.

Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death But Romeo may not.-More validity,

In that word's death; no words can that wo No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,

Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fear- Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, ful man;

An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,

Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet

thy hair,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide
thyself.
[Knocking within.

Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick

groans,

Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

[Knocking.

Fri. Hark, how they knock!-Who's there?-
Romeo, arise;

Thou wilt be taken: -Stay a while: stand up;
[Knocking.

Run to my study:-By and by:-God's will!

What wilfulness is this?-I come, I come.

[Knocking.

Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's

your will?

Nurse. [Within.] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand;

I come from lady Juliet.
Fri.

Welcome then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man:
Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish.
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask,
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.1
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too:
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a mis-behav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,

Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
made drunk.

Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman. O tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion.
[Drawing his sword.
Hold thy desperate hand:

Fri.

Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast, in seeming both!
Thou hast amaz'd me: by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?

Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?

(1) Torn to pieces with thine own weapons.

VOL. II.

But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.-
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all the

night,

To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!-
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

[Exit Nurse. Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this! Fri. Go hence: Good night; and here stands all your state;

Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence:
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee:

SCENE IV. A room in Capulet's house. En-
ter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.

Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I;-Well, we were born to die.-
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of wo afford no time to woo:
Madam, good night: commend me to your daugh