ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.
PARIS, a young
Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince. MONTAGUE, Heads of two Houses at variance CAPULET, S with each other.
An old Man, Uncle to Capulet.
ROMEO Son to Montague.
MERCUTIO, Kinsman to the Prince, and Friend
ABRAM, Servant to Montagne
An Apothecary.
Three Musicians.
Chorus
Boy, Page to Paris.
PETER, an Officer.
LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague.
BENVOLIO, Nephew to Montague, and Friend to LADY CAPULET, Wife to Capulet.
JULIET, Daughter to Capulet.
Nurse to Juliet.
Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relo tions to both Houses: Maskers, Guards, Watch men, and Attendants.
SCENE, during the greater part of the Play, in Verona; once. in the fifth Act, at Mantua.
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 re
Is now the two-hours traffic of our stage; The which, if y、 a with patient ears attend, What here s-all miss, our toil shall strive to mend
weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:-there Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with Swords fore 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; I will cut off their heads
Gre. The heads of the maids?
enheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maid
Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. stand: and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of flesh. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to
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.
Enter ABRAM and Balthazar. Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarres, I wil back thee.
Poor John is hake, dried and salted.
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 regin
Gre. I will frown as I pass by; and let them ake it as they list.
Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb
it them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
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. Is the law on our side, if I say-ay?
Gre. No.
Sam. No, sir; I do not bite my thumb at you, 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.
Enter BENVOLIO, at a distance.
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,
Have 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.
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 depart.
[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants; CAPULET
LADY CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and
Servants.
Mon.Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?
Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary
Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my mae And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: ter's kinsmen.
Sam. Yes, better, sir.
Abr. You lie.
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee;
Have at thee, coward.
[They fight.
Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join
the Fray; then enter Citizens with Clubs.
Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat
them down!
Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
Enter CAPULET in his Gown; and LADY CAPULET.
Cup. What noise is this?-Give me my long
sword, ho!
La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!—Why call you for
Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Enter MONTAGUE, and LADY MONTAGUE.
Mon. Thou villain, Capulet,-Hold me not, let
me go!
La. Mon.Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
Enter Prince, with Attendants.
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel,—
Will they not hear?-what, ho! you men, you
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
> Clubs was the usual exclamation at an affray in the #treets as we now caH Watch!
I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
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 thrust and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part
Till the prince came, who parted either part.
La. Mon. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him to
day?
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore,
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:
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I measuring his affections by my own,-
That most are busied when they are most alone,-
Pursued my humor, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen
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 daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humor 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 impórtuned him by any means!
Mon. Both by myself and many other friends
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
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 worl
3 Angry. ⚫ A kind of pike.
• Appeared.
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.
Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hii
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 eyes,
Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
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,,ousin.
Rom.
Is the day so young?
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom.
Ah me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was:- -What sadness lengthens Romeo's
Rom. Not having that, which having, makes
them short.
Ben. In love?
Rom. Out-
Ben. Of love?
Rom. Out of her favor, 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, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-Ö 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:-
Why then, brawling love! O loving hate!
O 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 purged, 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.
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.
Ben. Tell me in sadness who she is you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
Ben.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill-urged 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.
Ben A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
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 For beauty, starv'd with her severity, [waste; Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, 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 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.
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
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.
[Exeun
SCENE II-A Street.
Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. 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.
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Par. Of honorable 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 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 bride.
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,
Wheretc 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-appareli'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female birds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be.
• Account, estimation.
To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to poserM
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 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 persors, whose
never find what
names are here writ, and can
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 burn-
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; [ing,
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning:
One desperate grief cure 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:
[low.
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good e'en, good fel-
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!
[Reads.
Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read.
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; [Gives back the Note.] Whither
should they come?
Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither?
Serv. To supper; to our house.
Rom. Whose house?
Serv. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My master la the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.
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'd9 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.
We still say in cant language-crack a bottle.
• Weighed
Scarcely, hardly.
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
SCENE III-A Room in Capulet's House,
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.
La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call het
forth to me.
Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head, at twelve year
old,-
I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird!
God forbid!-where's this girl ?—what, Ja'iet?
Enter JULIET.
Jul. How now, who calls?
Nurse.
Jul.
What is your will?
Madam, I am here,
Lawhile
La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leara
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, to my teen? be it spoken, I have but four,-
She is not fourteen: How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
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 Gol;
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 in 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,3-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,5
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, Julai
quoth he:
And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said—Ay:
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy
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 its brow
A bump as big as a young cockrel'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 of age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-Ay.
Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I
To my sorrow.
i.e. I have a perfect remembrance or recollection
4 The cross. Holy dame, i. e. the blessed Virgin
It stopped crying.
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 honor that I dream not of.
Nurse. An honor! were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, thou had'st suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger
Here, in Verona, ladies of esteem, [than you,
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 gallant 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..
La. 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 gentle-
man?
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 obscured 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.-
Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men.
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.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served
up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse
cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I
must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy
days.
[Exeunt.
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.
Mer. You are a lover: borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
Rom. I am too sore impierced with his shaft
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
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.
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Top rude, too boist'rous; 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.Give me a case to put my visage in;
A visor for a visor!-what care I,
What curious eye doth quotes 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 rushess 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.
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.
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go..
Mer.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt 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
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you.
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
Drawn with a team of little atomies
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
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;
Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams:
six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others.
Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our ex-
Or shall we on without apology?
Ben. The uate 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 ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax.
The comments on ancient books were always printed in
the margin.
11. e. Is not yet caught, whose skin was wanted to bind
• A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten crows. ⚫ A dance.
A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers.
Her whip, of cricket's bone: the lash, of film:
Her waggoner, a small gray-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,
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 breath with sweet-meats tainted are
Sometime 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,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
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