From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life
I bade her come. God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
How now! Who calls?
Your mother.
Madam, I am here. What is your will?
Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, how stands your disposition to be married?
It is an honour that I dream not of.
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
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.
If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
O, then dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Marry, bachelor, her mother is the lady of the house.
Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
His name is Romeo, and a Montague. the only son of your great enemy.
My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy.
It is my lady, o, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! Shee, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!
Ay, me!
She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel!
O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, thou not a Montague. What's a Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any othe
I take thee at they word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.
What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night so stumblest on my counsel?
By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: my name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word.
How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; and but thou love me, let them find me here: my life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of they love.
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'ay' and I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st thou mayst prove false;
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
What shall I swear by?
Do not swear at all: or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee.
If my heart's dear love-
Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight: Sweet, good night!
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?
The exchange of they love's faithful vow for mine.
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: and yet I would it were to give again.
Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?
But to be frank, and give it thee again. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite. I hear some noise within. Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.
O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, by one that I'll procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; and all my fortunes at thy foot
Madam!
I come, anon. But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee-
Madam!
By and by, I come: to cease thy strife, and leave me to my grief; tomorrow will I send.
So thrive my soul-
A thousand times good night!
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
Hist! Romeo, hist! I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, remembering how I love thy company.
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, forgetting any other home but this.
Tis almost morning: I would have thee gone: good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Anon!
The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; in half an hour she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. O, she is lame!! Had she affections and warm youthful blood, she would be as swift in motion as a ball; but old folks, m
I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.
Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? Is thy news good, or bad? Answer to that.
Well you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! No, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of cou
No, no: but all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? What of that?
Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! O, my back, my back! Beshrew you heart for sending me about, to catch my breath without jaunting up and down!
I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and I warrant, a virtuous- where is your mother?
Where is my mother! Why, she is within; where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, where is your mother?
O God's lady dear! Are you so hot? Henceforward do your messages yourself.
Come, what says Romeo?
Have you got leave to go to shrift today?
I have.
These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. Here comes the lady:
Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
Gallop apace, you fiery footed steeds, towards Phoebus' lodging: Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all
Ah, well-a-day! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone! O Romeo, Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
Hath Romeo slain himself?
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes- a piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; I swooned at the sight.
O, break, my heart!
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! That ever I should live to see thee dead!
What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd and is Tybalt dead?
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical!
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo!
Blister'd be thy tongue for such a wish! He was not born to shame.
Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, when I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? Back, foolish tears. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; and Tybalt's dead, that would have slain
I'll find Romeo to comfort you: hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: he is hid at Laurence's cell.
O, find him! Give this ring to my true knight, and bid him come to take his last farewell.
Good night.
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day: it was the nightingale, and not the lark, believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, Night's candles are burnt out. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Yon light is not day light, I know it, therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, Juliet wills it so. Let's talk; it is not day.
It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away. O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Madam!
Nurse?
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay, husband, friend! I must hear from thee every day in the hour.
Ho, daughter! Are you up?
Who is't that calls?
Why, how now, Juliet!
Madam, I am not well.
Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou was him from his grave with tears? Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, as that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
What villian madam?
That same villain, Romeo. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, where that same banish'd rungate doth live, shall give him such an unaccustom'd dream, that he shall soon keep Tybalt company: and then,
Indeed, I never shall be satisfied with Romeo, till I behold him- dead.
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
And joy comes well in such a needy time: what are they, I beseech your ladyship?
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; one who, to put thee from thy heaviness, hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, that thou expect'st not not I look'd not for.
Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, the gallant, young and noble gentleman, the County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, he shall not make me there a joyful bride. I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet, and when I do, I swear, it shall be Romeo, whom you I know I hate, rather than Paris. These are news i
Soft! Take me with you, take me with you, wife. How! Will she none? Is she not proud?
Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: proud can I never be of what I hate; but thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Fie, fie! What, are you mad?
Good father, I beseech you on my knees, hear me with patience but to speak a word.
God's bread! It makes me mad: day, night, work, play, alone, in company, still my care hath been to have her match'd: and then to have a wretched puling fool, a whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, to answer "I'll not wed; I cannot love, I am too youn
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week; or if you do not, make the bridal bed in that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
O God! O nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven, comfort me, counsel me.
Faith, here it is. Romeo is banish'd; I think it best you married with the county. O, he's a lovely gentleman! Romeo's a dishclout to him.
Speakest thou from thy heart?
And from my soul too, or else beshrew them both.
Amen!
What?
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, having displeased my father, to Laurencia's cell, to make confession and to be absolved.
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Go, counsellor, thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. I'll to the reverend, to know his remedy: if all else fail, myself have power to die.
Happily met, my lady and my wife!
That may be, when I may be a wife.
That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.
What must be shall be.
Come you to make confession to this sister?
To answer that, I should confess to you. Are you at leisure, holy reverend, now; or shall I come to you at evening mass?
God shield I should disturb devotion! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
O shut the door! And when thou hast done so, come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!
Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, on Thursday next be married to this County.
Tell me not, sister, that thou hear'st of this, unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: if, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, I long to die, if what thou speak'st speak not of remedy,
And hither shall he come: and he and I, and that very night shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
Give me, give me!
Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous in this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed to Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
Love give me strength! And strength shall help afford. Farwell, dear mother!
How now, my headstrong! Where have you been gadding?
Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin of disobedient opposition. Pardon, I beseech you! Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.
Go nurse, go with her: we'll to church tomorrow.
I pray thee, leave me to myself tonight.
Goodnight: get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. Come, vial. What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married then tomorrow morning? No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time that Ro
Romeo! O, pale! What, Paris? And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs.
O comfortable reverend! Where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, and there I am. Where is my Romeo?
I hear some noise. Come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; and Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee among a sisterhood of holy nuns. Come, go, good Juliet, I dare no longer stay.
Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see hath been his timeless end. O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on
Lead, boy: which way?
Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.