more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath Brags of his substance, not of ornament: But my true love is grown to such excess, For, ACT III. SCENE 1.-A Public Place. [Exeunt. Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Ser vants. Ben. I pray you, good Mercutio, let's retire; The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need. Ben. Am I like such a fellow ? Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. Ben. And what to? Mer. Nay, and there were too such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addled as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-simple? O simple! Enter TYBALT, and others. Ben. By my head here come the Capulets • How everlasting flint could be worn out, is doubtful. ↑ The long white filamen: which flies in the air. Paint, diolay. Imagination. Either withdraw into some private place, I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. Enter ROMEO. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir! here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hanged, Sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; Your worship, in that sense, may call himn man. Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can af ford No better term than this-Thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love Doth much excuse the appertaining rage [thee To such a greeting :-Villain am I none; [not. Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw. Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee; Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission ! [Draws. A la stoccata * carries it away. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher + by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Tyb. Come, Sir, your passado. [They fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio ; [shame Beat down their weapons-Gentlemen, for Forbear this outrage ;-Tybalt-Mercutio— The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying In Verona streets :-hold, Tybalt ;-good Mercutio. [Exeunt TYBALT and his Partizans. Mer. I am hurt: A plague o'both the houses!-I am sped :- Ben. What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.[geon. Where is my page ?-go, villain, fetch a sur[Exit Page. Courage, man: the hurt cannot be Rom much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier. t Case or scabbard. wide as a church dov'; bat 'tis enough, 'twill | Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal And me a grave man. I am peppered, I war- Your high displeasure :-All this-uttered rant, for this world:-A plague o'both your With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly houses!-Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, cat, bow'd,to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic!-Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best. Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, I have it, and soundly too :-Your houses! Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead; That gallaut spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end. Re-enter TY BALT. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!- Shalt with him heuce. Rom. This shall determine that. [They fight; TYBALT falls. Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain : [death, Stand not amaz'd :—the prince will doom thee If thou art taken :-hence !-be gone!-away! Rom. O! I am fortune's fool! Ben. Why dost thou stay? [Exit ROMEO. Enter CITIZENS, &c. 1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio ? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? 1 Cit. Up, Sir, go with me; 1 charge thee in the prince's name, obey. Enter PRINCE, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives and others, Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all. The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: There lies the man slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin !-O my brother's child! Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.- art Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Cool, considerate gentleness. + Conduct for conductor. Could not take truce with the unruly spleen His agile arm beats down their fatal points, arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly: La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, 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 ; [end, His fault concludes but what the law should The life of Tybalt. Prin. And, for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hates' proceeding, But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, SCENE II-A Room in CAPULET's House. Enter JULIET. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo bold, Think true love acted, simple modesty. For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Slight, unimportant. Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die, Enter NURSE, with Cords. And she brings news; and every tongue, that But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly elo- That Romeo bade thee fetch ? [Throws them dour. Jul. Ab me! what news? why dost thou wring thy bands? 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 Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; dead! Jul. Can heaven be so envious? Though heaven cannot :-O Romeo! Romeo !- This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. God save the mark!-here on his manly breast: To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! Jul. What storm is this, that blows so con- Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead? Your tributary drops belong to woe, All this is comfort: Wherefore weep I then? death, That murder'd me: I would forget it fain: Was woe enough, if it had ended there : For who is living, if those two are gone? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave ? • Gaudy, showy. In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually written 1, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling. guil'd; Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd: And death, not Romeo, take my maidenbead ! Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt. To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to care. Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. prince, Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, ment: This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as 1, Juliet thy love, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking. Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? Nurse. [Within.] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand; I come from lady Juliet. Enter NURSE. Nurse. O holy friar, O tell me, holy friar, Nurse. O he is even in my mistress' case, Fri. O woeful sympathy! Nurse. Even so lies she, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubber ing : Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy heaven is Stand up, stand up stand, an you be a man: here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, O friar, the damued use that word in hell; Rom 0 thou wilt speak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep of that word! Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; Nurse. Ah Sir! ah Sir!-Well, death's the end of all. Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Doth she not think me an old murderer. Nurse. O she says nothing, Sir, but weeps and weeps ; And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again. Rom. As if that name, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand Murder'd her kinsman.-O tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my naine lodge? tell me, that I may sack Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art; Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet And usest none in that true use indeed Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate ⚫ Of my child's love: I think, she will be rul'd Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday cherish : Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, too: The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend, Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here next But, soft; What day is this? Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is O'Thursday let it be ;-o'Thursday, tell her, Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to- morrow. Cap. Well, get you gone :-O'Thursday be it Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, [Exeunt. SCENE V.-JULIET'S Chamber. Enter ROMEO and JULIET. Jul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day: all 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. To hear good counsel: Oh! what learning is Nurse. Here, Sir, a ring she bid me give you, Sir: Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [Exit NURSE. Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this! Fri. Go hence: Good night; and here stands all your state; + Either be gone before the watch be set, Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief, so breif to part with thee: Farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, and PARIS. Cap. Things have fallen out, Sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daugh ter: Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, Par. These times of woe afford no time to Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to 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 daylight, 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, von grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; + Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : I have more care to stay, than will to go;-Juliet wills it Come, death, and welcome! 80. How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day. O now I would they had chang'd voices too! phrase for musical composition. A tune played to wake hunters, also a morning song to a woman the day after marriage. |