SCENE II. A street.
Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and ServantCAPULET
But Montague is bound as well as I,PARIS
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.
Of honourable reckoning are you both;CAPULET
And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
But saying o'er what I have said before:PARIS
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.
Younger than she are happy mothers made.CAPULET
And too soon marr'd are those so early made.Servant
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,
Whereto 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-apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be:
Which on more view, of many mine being one
May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
Come, go with me.
To Servant, giving a paper
Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS
Find them out whose names are written here! It isBENVOLIO
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 persons whose names are here
writ, and can never find what names the writing
person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.
Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO
Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,ROMEO
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.BENVOLIO
For what, I pray thee?ROMEO
For your broken shin.BENVOLIO
Why, Romeo, art thou mad?ROMEO
Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;Servant
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.
God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?ROMEO
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.Servant
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, IROMEO
pray, can you read any thing you see?
Ay, if I know the letters and the language.Servant
Ye say honestly: rest you merry!ROMEO
Stay, fellow; I can read.Servant
'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
widow of Vitravio; 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: whither should they come?
To supper; to our house.ROMEO
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.Servant
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is theBENVOLIO
great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
Rest you merry!
At this same ancient feast of Capulet'sROMEO
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
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.
When the devout religion of mine eyeBENVOLIO
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.
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,ROMEO
Herself poised with herself in either eye:
But in that 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.
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 NurseLADY CAPULET
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.Nurse
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,JULIET
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
How now! who calls?Nurse
Madam, I am here.LADY CAPULET
What is your will?
This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,Nurse
We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.LADY CAPULET
She's not fourteen.Nurse
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--LADY CAPULET
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
A fortnight and odd days.Nurse
Even or odd, of all days in the year,LADY CAPULET
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 God;
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 of 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:--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 holidame,
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, Jule?' quoth he;
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.Nurse
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,JULIET
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 cockerel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'
And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.Nurse
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!LADY CAPULET
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
Marry, that 'marry' is the very themeJULIET
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.Nurse
An honour! were not I thine only nurse,LADY CAPULET
I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,Nurse
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
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 valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
A man, young lady! lady, such a manLADY CAPULET
As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.
Verona's summer hath not such a flower.Nurse
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.LADY CAPULET
What say you? can you love the gentleman?Nurse
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 margent 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.
No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.LADY CAPULET
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?JULIET
I'll look to like, if looking liking move:Servant
But no more deep will I endart mine eye
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant
Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, youLADY CAPULET
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.
We follow thee.Nurse
Juliet, the county stays.
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
SCENE IV. A street.
Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and othersROMEO
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?BENVOLIO
Or shall we on without a apology?
The date is out of such prolixity:ROMEO
We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'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.
Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;MERCUTIO
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.ROMEO
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoesMERCUTIO
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,ROMEO
And soar with them above a common bound.
I am too sore enpierced with his shaftMERCUTIO
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.
And, to sink in it, should you burden love;ROMEO
Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,MERCUTIO
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;BENVOLIO
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 quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,ROMEO
But every man betake him to his legs.
A torch for me: let wantons light of heartMERCUTIO
Tickle the senseless rushes 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.
Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:ROMEO
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
Nay, that's not so.MERCUTIO
I mean, sir, in delayROMEO
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.
And we mean well in going to this mask;MERCUTIO
But 'tis no wit to go.
Why, may one ask?ROMEO
I dream'd a dream to-night.MERCUTIO
And so did I.ROMEO
Well, what was yours?MERCUTIO
That dreamers often lie.ROMEO
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.MERCUTIO
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.ROMEO
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not 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 o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er 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 breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she--
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!MERCUTIO
Thou talk'st of nothing.
True, I talk of dreams,BENVOLIO
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;ROMEO
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
I fear, too early: for my mind misgivesBENVOLIO
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels and expire the term
Of a despised life closed in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.