Imágenes de páginas

Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity

Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,

Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,

And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm

An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled :
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly:
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague,
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true:
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life:
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but, what the law should end, The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And, for that offence,

Immediately we do exile him hence :

I have an interest in your hates' proceeding,

My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,

That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;

Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,
Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.


SCENE II.-A room in CAPULET's house.


Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a waggoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately.— Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night.-Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted, simple modesty.

Come, night!-Come, Romeo! come, thou day in


For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night

Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.

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 the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.-
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it; and, though I am sold,
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,

Enter Nurse, with cords.

And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.--Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there, the


That Romeo bade thee fetch?

Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.

[Throws them down.

Jul. Ah me! what news! why dost thou wring thy


Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!

We are undone, lady, we are undone !—

Alack the day!—he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
Jul. Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse. Romeo can,

Though heaven cannot :-O Romeo! Romeo !---
Who ever would have thought it ?---Romeo!

Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus ?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I,
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice :
I am not I, if there be such an I;

Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I.
If he be slain, say---I; or if not, no:

Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--God save the mark !---here on his manly breast: A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood,

All in gore blood ;---I swoonded at the sight.

Jul. O break, my heart !---poor bankrupt, break at once !

To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!

Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary?

Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead?
My dear lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord ?---

Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished;

Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's


Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did.

Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinest show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
A damned saint, an honourable villain !---
O, nature! what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?---
Was ever book, containing such vile matter,
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!

Nurse. There's no trust,

No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,

All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.-

Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vita:These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo!

Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue,

For such a wish! he was not born to shame:

Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;

For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd

Sole monarch of the universal earth.

O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse. Will you speak well of him, that kill'd your


Jul. Shall I speak ill of him, that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,

« AnteriorContinuar »