Romeo and Juliet (1917) Yale/Text/Act I
ACT FIRST
Scene One
[Verona. A Public Place]
Enter Sampson and Gregory, with swords and bucklers, of the House of Capulet.
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. 6
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. 10
Gre. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is
to stand; therefore, if thou art moved, thou
runnest 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. 16
Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the
weakest goes to the wall.
Sam. 'Tis 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. 24
Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant:
when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel
with the maids; I will cut off their heads.
Gre. The heads of the maids? 28
Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their
maidenheads; take 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. 34
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. 37
Enter two other serving-men [Abraham and Balthasar].
Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I
will back thee.
Gre. How! turn thy back and run? 40
Sam. Fear me not.
Gre. No, marry; I fear thee!
Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let
them begin. 44
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. 49
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? 52
Sam. [Aside to Gregory.] Is the law of our
side if I say ay?
Gre. [Aside to Sampson.] No.
Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you,
sir; but I bite my thumb, sir. 57
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. 61
Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, sir.
Enter Benvolio.
Gre. [Aside to Sampson.] Say, 'better'; here
comes one of my master's kinsmen. 65
Sam. Yes, better, sir.
Abr. You lie.
Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, re-
member thy swashing blow. [Fight.]
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? 72
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What! drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word, 76
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward! Fight.
Citizens. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! 80
Enter old Capulet in his gown, and his wife.
Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
Lady 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. 84
Enter old Montague, and his wife.
Mon. Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not; let me go.
Lady Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
Enter Prince Escalus, with his train.
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— 88
Will they not hear? What ho! you men, 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 92
Throw your mis-temper'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, 96
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old, 100
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: 104
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 depart. 109
Exeunt [all but Montague, Lady Montague, 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: 113
I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd,
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, 116
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, 120
Till the prince came, who parted either part.
Lady Mon. O! where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun 124
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth from the city's side, 128
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, 132
Which then most sought where most might not be found,
Being one too many by my weary self,
Pursu'd my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, 136
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 140
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 daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night. 145
Black and portentous must this humour prove
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means?
Mon. Both by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor, 152
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, 156
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. 160
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? 165
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? 168
Rom. Not having that, which having, makes them short.
Ben. In love?
Rom. Out—
Ben. Of love? 172
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, 176
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will.
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love: 180
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing! of nothing first create.
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 184
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. 188
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, 192
Which thou wilt propagate to have it press'd
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; 197
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with loving tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 200
Farewell, my coz. [Going.]
Ben. Soft, I will go along;
An 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. 204
Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that 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; 208
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 mark-man! And she's fair I love. 212
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, 216
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: 220
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; 224
For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair: 228
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. 232
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 black, put us in mind they hide the fair; 237
He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
Show me a mistress that is passing fair, 240
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.
Exeunt.
Scene Two
[A Street]
Enter Capulet, County Paris, and the Clown.
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.
Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long. 5
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, 8
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. 12
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
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, 16
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, 20
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 24
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight 28
Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be:
Which on more view, of many mine being one 32
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving him a paper.] Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say, 36
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; 48
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. 52
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; 56
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented, and—Good den, good fellow.
Serv. God gi' good den. I pray, sir, can you read?
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 60
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. 64
Serv. Ye say honestly; rest you merry!
[Offering to go.]
Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read.
He reads the letter.
'Signior Martino and his wife and daugh-
ters; County Anselme and his beauteous sis-
ters; 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. 76
Rom. Whither?
Serv. To supper; to our house.
Rom. Whose house?
Serv. My master's. 80
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, 88
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. 92
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! 96
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; 100
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. 104
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.
[Exeunt.]
Scene Three
[A Room in Capulet's House]
Enter Capulet's Wife, and Nurse.
Lady Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,—
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
God forbid! where's this girl? what, Juliet! 4
Enter Juliet.
Jul. How now! who calls?
Nurse. Your mother.
Jul. Madam, I am here.
What is your will?
Lady Cap. This is the matter. Nurse, give leave awhile.
We must talk in secret: nurse, come back again; 8
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Lady Cap. She's not fourteen.
Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth— 12
And yet to my teen be it spoken I have but four—
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
Lady 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. 17
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, 20
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, 24
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. 28
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. 32
'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 high lone; nay, by the rood, 36
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: 40
'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 halidom,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay.' 44
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 'Ay.' 48
Lady Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
Nurse. Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh,
To think it should leave crying, and say 'Ay.'
And yet, I warrant, it had upon it brow 52
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
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; 56
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 nursed:
An I might live to see thee married once, 61
I have my wish.
Lady Cap. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, 64
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 would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. 68
Lady 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 72
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. 76
Lady Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
Lady Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast; 80
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; 84
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover: 88
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
For fair without the fair within to hide:
That book in many eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story: 92
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him making yourself no less.
Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.
Lady Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? 96
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.
Enter a Serving-man.
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper
served up, you called, my young lady asked for,
the nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything
in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech
you, follow straight. 104
Lady Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
Exeunt.
Scene Four
[A Street]
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers; Torch-Bearers.
Rom. What! shall this speech be spoke for our excuse,
Or shall we on without apology?
Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf, 4
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: 8
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 ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light. 12
Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. 16
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound 20
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
Too great oppression for a tender thing. 24
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous; 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. 28
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. 32
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, 36
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.
Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: 40
If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire,
Of—save your reverence—love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer. I mean, sir, in delay 44
We waste our lights in vain, light lights 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 masque; 48
But 'tis no wit to go.
Mer. Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dream'd a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did I.
Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer. That dreamers often lie.
Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. 52
Mer. O! then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you.
Ben. Queen Mab! What's she?
Mer. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 56
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Over men's noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; 61
Her traces, of the smallest spider's web;
Her collars, of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; 64
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 hazel-nut, 68
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love 72
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies 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. 77
Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, 81
Then he dreams of another benefice;
Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, 85
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, 88
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 is she—
Rom. Peace, peace! Mercutio, peace! 96
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, 100
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. 104
Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from our selves;
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 108
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels, and expire the term
Of a despised life clos'd in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death. 112
But he, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt.]
Scene Five
[A Hall in Capulet's House]
[Musicians waiting.] Enter Servant[s].
First Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps
not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape
a trencher!
Sec. Serv. When good manners shall lie all
in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed
too, 'tis a foul thing. 6
First Serv. Away with the joint-stools, re-
move 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!
Sec. Serv. Ay, boy; ready. 12
First Serv. You are looked for and called
for, asked for and sought for in the great
chamber.
Third Serv. We cannot be here and there
too. 17
Sec. Serv. Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and
the longer liver take all. Exeunt.
Enter [Capulet,] all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.
Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes 20
Unplagu'd with corns will walk 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 ye now? 24
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. 28
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 has grown too hot. 32
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 36
Were in a mask?
Sec. Cap. By 'r Lady, thirty years.
Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, 40
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
Sec. Cap. 'Tis more, ’tis more; his son is elder, sir.
His son is thirty.
Cap. Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago. 44
Rom. What lady is that which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
Serv. I know not, sir.
Rom. O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright. 48
It seems she 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, 52
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 57
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, 60
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.
Cap. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? 64
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
Cap. Young Romeo, is it?
Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 68
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. 72
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, 76
Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
I'll not endure him.
Cap. He shall be endur'd: 80
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! 84
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
Cap. Go to, go to;
You are a saucy boy—is't so indeed?—
This trick may chance to scathe you.—I know what: 88
You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame!
I'll make you quiet. What! cheerly, my hearts!
Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting 93
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. Exit.
Rom. [To Juliet.] If I profane with my unworthiest hand 97
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this;
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, 101
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 104
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 do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 108
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd.
[Kissing her.]
Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. 112
Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
Give me my sin again.
Jul. You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse. Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house, 117
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
I tell you he that can lay hold of her 120
Shall have the chinks.
Rom. Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; 125
We have a trifling foolish banquettowards.
Is it e'en so? Why then, I thank you all;
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good-night. 128
More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
Ah! sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest.
Exeunt [all except Juliet and Nurse.]
Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? 132
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 here, that would not dance? 136
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;
The only son of your great enemy. 141
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me, 144
That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse. What's this, what's this?
Jul. A rime I learn'd even now
Of one I danc'd withal.
One calls within, 'Juliet!'
Nurse. Anon, anon!—
Come, let's away; the strangers are all gone. 148
Exeunt.
Footnotes to Act I
Scene One
Act First, Scene One; cf. n.
S. d. bucklers: shields
1 carry coals: endure affronts; cf. n.
4 an: if
choler: anger
7 moved: exasperated
15 take the wall; cf. n.
31 sense: here, 'physical perception'
36 poor John: an inferior dried fish, hake
tool: weapon
42 marry: an oath from the name of S. Mary
43 take the law of our sides: have the law on our side
list: please
47 bite my thumb; cf. n.
65 kinsmen; cf. n.
72 drawn: with drawn sword
heartless: cowardly
hinds: menials
79 Clubs, bills, and partisans; cf. n.
84 spite: contemptuous defiance
93 mis-temper'd: tempered for an evil purpose
101 Canker'd: corroded; secondly, 'malignant'
103 forfeit: breach
108 Free-town; cf. n.
110 set . . . abroach: re-opened
118 withal: there with
120 part: side
130 ware: aware
132 affections: inclinations
133 most sought: i.e., most sought to be
142 heavy: sad
156 envious: malignant
158 sun; cf. n.
164 shrift: confession
174 view: outward appearance
175 proof: experience
176 view: sight; cf. n.
still: always
180 more with love; cf. n.
183 vanity: triviality, futility
181–186 Cf. n.
187 in this: i.e., in this brawl
188 coz: cousin
193 propagate: increase
to have it: by having it
197 purg'd: cleared from smoke
198 vex'd: agitated
205 sadness: seriousness
207 sadly: seriously
215 Dian's wit: the turn of mind of the chaste goddess Diana
216 proof: impenetrable armor
218 stay: remain to resist
222 store: riches; cf. n.
224 sparing: refraining from use
225 starv'd: allowed to die out
235 call . . . in question: consider
240 passing: surpassingly
244 pay that doctrine: give that instruction
Scene Two
Scene Two S. d. County: count
Clown; cf. n.
4 reckoning: repute
15 hopeful; cf. n.
29 fennel; cf. n.
30 Inherit: receive
32–33 Cf. n.
45 In good time; cf. n.
58 Good den: good evening
86 crush a cup: crack a bottle
87 ancient: accustomed
90 unattainted: unbiased
95 these: i.e., my eyes
100 pois'd: weighed
Scene Three
7 give leave: leave us
9 thou's: thou shalt
12 lay: wager
13 teen: grief
15 Lammas-tide: August 1
29 bear a brain: have a memory
32 tetchy: peevish
33 trow: dare say; cf. n.
36 high lone: quite alone
rood: cross
40 A': He
43 halidom: a mild oath
48 stinted: ceased
52 it brow; cf. n.
54 parlous: perilous
59 mark: elect
76 man of wax: beautiful as a wax model
83 married: harmonious
86 margent: margin; cf. n.
89 fish; cf. n.
98 endart: shoot as a dart
103 extremity: a desperate pass
104 straight: immediately
105 stays: waits
Scene Four
1 this speech; cf. n.
3 Such prolixity is out of date
4 hood-wink'd: blindfolded
5 Tartar's . . . bow: a bow doubly curved like a brace
6 crow-keeper: human scarecrow
7 without-book: memorized
10 measure . . . measure: tread a dance
16 So stakes: which so fastens
21 pitch: a term in falconry denoting the height of a hawk's flight
30 visor for a visor: a mask for a mask-like face
31 quote: observe
35 wantons: triflers
36 rushes: the common Elizabethan floor covering
37 proverb'd: provided with a proverb; cf. n.
grandsire phrase: old saying
40 dun's the mouse; cf. n.
42 save your reverence; cf. n.
45 lights; cf. n.
49 wit: good sense
50 to-night: last night
55 fairies' midwife: the fairy who brings dreams to birth
56 agate-stone; cf. n.
58 atomies: tiny beings
60 spinners': spiders'
64 film: gossamer thread
65 waggoner: coachman
66 worm; cf. n.
79 suit: petition for royal favor
80 tithe-pig's: pig paid as tithe due the church
85 breaches: gaps made in fortifications
ambuscadoes: ambushes
86 healths: draughts of liquor
anon: presently
90 plats the manes; cf. n.
91 elf-locks: tangled masses of hair
99 vain: empty
104 dew-dropping: misty
109 date: duration
110 expire . . . of: bring to an end
115 Exeunt; cf. n.
Scene Five
2 trencher: wooden plate
7 joint-stools: stools made by a joiner as opposed to a rougher sort
8 court-cupboard: movable sideboard
9 marchpane: almond paste
21 bout: turn
23 makes dainty: holds aloof
24 am . . . ye: do my words have an effect
31 tables up; cf. n.
60 antic: fantastic
61 fleer: sneer
solemnity: festivity
70 portly: dignified
74 disparagement: indignity
81 goodman: prefixed to names of persons under the rank of gentlemen; often, as here, contemptuously
85 cock-a-hoop: all by the ears
90 Well said: well done
princox: pert boy
93 perforce: by compulsion
wilful: eager
96 convert: change
97–110 Cf. n.
98 gentle sin; cf. n.
104 palmer: pilgrim, properly one from Palestine bearing a palm leaf
109 move: propose, instigate
113 urg'd: argued to be such
114 by the book: according to authority
121 chinks: money
122 Cf. n.
126 foolish: trifling
banquet: an after-supper of sweets
towards: in preparation
130 fay: faith
144 Prodigious: monstrous