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La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to
To-night she's mew'd up' to her heaviness.
Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate2 tender
Of my child's love: I think, she will be rul'd
In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-The day is broke; be wary, look about.
But, soft; What day is this?
Monday, my lord. Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is
O' Thursday let it be;-O' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl:-
Will you be ready? Do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado;—a friend, or two:-
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-
Cap. Well, get you gone:-O' Thursday be it then :
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewell, my lord.-Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me, it is so very late, that we
May call it early by and by :-Good night. [Exe.
SCENE V.-Juliet's chamber. Enter Romeo
Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I :
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow:4
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care4 to stay, than will to go;-
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division ;5
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;||
O, now, I would they had chang'd voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day:
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?-more dark and dark our woes.
(1) Shut up.
(3) Reflection of the moon. (4) Inclination. (5) Division was the technical phrase for musical composition.
Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your
[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. [Romeo descends. Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my friend!
I must hear from thee every day i'the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.
Rom Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again!
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul:
Methinks, I see thee now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eyes so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu!
Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom'd cause procures? her hither?
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
Madam, I am not well.
La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live;
Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the
Which you weep for.
Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much
for his death,
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, madam?
That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer
Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my
'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death!
(6) A tune played to wake hunters, also a morning song to a woman the day after marriage. (7) Brings.
La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear |
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,-
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,-
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company :
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Cap. How now! how now, chop-logic! What is this?
Proud,-and, I thank you,--and, I thank you not;--
And yet not proud;-Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
Upon so soft a subject as myself!—
What say'st thou hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.
'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo
Is banished; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!
Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Or else beshrew them both.
To what? Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolv'd.
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
Jul. Ancient damnation! Omost wicked fiend!
Is it more sin--to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die.
From my soul too; Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so;
And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.
Friar. You say, you do not know the lady's mind;
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father?
Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.
Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me.
Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him.
Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough, before their spite.
Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.
Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.―
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
(1) Decide the struggle between me and my dis
Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
God join'd' my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Laurence and Paris.
SCENE I.-Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar Turn to another, this shall slay them both :
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that
Which the commission2 of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself:
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake
Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter,
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion !—
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you:
Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss.
[Exit Paris. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past help!
Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
(2) Authority or power.
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow;
To-morrow-night look that thou lie alone,
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off:
When, presently, through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
His natural progress, but surcease to beat:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then (as the manner of our country is,)
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua,
And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear.
Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and
Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. [Exit Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.
Cap. How canst thou try them so?
2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he, that cannot lick his fingers, goes not with me.
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night; pros-For I have need of many orisons4
Cap. Go, begone.
[Exit Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth.
Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
Enter Lady Capulet.
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father! [Exeunt. Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries SCENE II-A room in Capulet's house. En-As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: ter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and Servants.
La. Cap. What, are you busy? do you need
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you;
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.
Cap. Send for the county; go tell him of this;
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed3 love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Cap. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,-standup:
This is as't should be.-Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.-
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
La. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is time
Cap. Go, nurse, go with her :-we'll to church
to-morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.
La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision;
'Tis now near night.
Tush! I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;
I'll not to bed to-night-let me alone;
I'll play the housewife for this once.- -What, ho!
They are all forth: Well, I will walk myself
To county Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exe.
SCENE III-Juliet's chamber. Enter Juliet
Jul. Ay, those attires are best:-But, gentle
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.
Jul. Farewell!-God knows, when we shall
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me;
Nurse-What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.---
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Must I of force be married to the county?-
No, no;-this shall forbid it :-lie thou there.-
[Laying down a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
fear, it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man :
I will not entertain so bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,-
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green
Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort ;-
Alack, alack! is it not like, that I,
So early waking-what with loathsome smells;
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad ;1—
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,2
Environed with all these hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
O, look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier's point:-Stay, Tybalt, stay!—
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
[She throws herself on the bed.
SCENE IV.-Capulet's hall. Enter Lady Cap-0,
ulet and Nurse.
Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets.
1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not
For so he said he would. I hear him near :-
Nurse!-Wife-what, ho!-what, nurse, I say!
Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit Serv.]—
Sirrah, fetch drier logs;
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit. Cap. 'Mass, and well said; A merry whore son! ha,
Thou shalt be logger-head.-Good faith, 'tis day:
The county will be here with music straight,
(1) The fabulous accounts of the plant called mandrake give it a degree of animal life, and say that when it is torn from the ground it groans, which is fatal to him that pulls it up.
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up;
I'll go and chat with Paris:-Hie, make haste,
Make haste! the bridegroom he is come already :
Make haste, I say!
SCENE V-Juliet's chamber; Juliet on the bed. Enter Nurse.
Nurse. Mistress !-what, mistress!-Juliet!fast, I warrant her, she:
Why, lamb!-why, lady!-fie, you slug-a-bed!Why, love, I say!-madam! sweet-heart!-why, bride!
What, not a word?-you take your pennyworths
Sleep for a week: for the next night, I warrant,
The county Paris hath set up his rest,
That you shall rest but little.-God forgive me,
(Marry and amen!) how sound is she asleep!
I needs must wake her :-Madam, madam, madam!
Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
He'll fright you up, i'faith.-Will it not be?
What, drest! and in your clothes! and down again!
I must needs wake you: Lady! lady! lady!
Alas! alas!-Help! help! my lady's dead!—
well-a-day, that ever I was born!-
Some aqua-vitæ, ho!-my lord! my lady!
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. What noise is here?
La. Cap. What is the matter?
Look, look! O heavy day!
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!—
La. Cap. O me, O me!-my child, my only life,
Help, help!-call help.
Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!
La. Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead,
Her blood is settled; and her joints are stiff;
Cap. Ha! let me see her :-Out, alas! she's cold;
Life and these lips have long been separated:
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Accursed time! unfortunate old man!
Nurse. O lamentable day!
O woful time!
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar Laurence and Paris, with Musicians.
Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return:
O son, the night before thy wedding-day
Hath death lain with thy bride:-See, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded! I will die,
And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's.
(3) The room where pies were made.
(4) Mouse was a term of endearment to a