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The Same. CAPULET’S Orchard. | |
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Enter JULIET. | |
| Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, | |
| Towards Phœbus’ lodging; such a waggoner | |
| As Phæthon would whip you to the west, | 5 |
| And bring in cloudy night immediately. | |
| Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! | |
| That runaway’s eyes may wink, and Romeo | |
| Leap to these arms, untalk’d of and unseen! | |
| Lovers can see to do their amorous rites | 10 |
| 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: | 15 |
| 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 night! | |
| For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night, | 20 |
| 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 | 25 |
| 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 | 30 |
| 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, | |
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Enter Nurse with cords. | |
| And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks | 35 |
| But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence. | |
| Now nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords | |
| That Romeo bade thee fetch? | |
| Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. [Throws them down. | |
| Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? | 40 |
| 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 killed, he’s dead! | |
| Jul. Can heaven be so envious? | |
| Nurse. Romeo can, | 45 |
| 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,’ | 50 |
| 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:’ | 55 |
| 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 bedaub’d in blood, | 60 |
| All in gore blood; I swounded 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! | 65 |
| 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? | 70 |
| My dearest 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. | 75 |
| Jul. O God! did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood? | |
| Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. | |
| Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! | |
| Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? | |
| Beautiful tyrant! fiond angelical! | 80 |
| 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 | 85 |
| When thou didst 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. | 90 |
| Nurse. There’s no trust, | |
| No faith, no honesty in men; all naught, | |
| All perjur’d, all dissemblers, all forsworn. | |
| Ah! where’s my man? give me some aqua vitœ: | |
| These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. | 95 |
| 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 | 100 |
| 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 cousin? | |
| Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? | |
| Ah! poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, | 105 |
| When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? | |
| But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? | |
| That villain cousin would have kill’d my husband: | |
| Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; | |
| Your tributary drops belong to woe, | 110 |
| Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. | |
| My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; | |
| And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband: | |
| All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? | |
| Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death, | 115 |
| That murder’d me: I would forget it fain; | |
| But O! it presses to my memory, | |
| Like damned guilty deeds to sinners’ minds. | |
| ‘Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished!’ | |
| That ‘banished,’ that one word ‘banished,’ | 120 |
| Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death | |
| Was woe enough, if it had ended there: | |
| Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, | |
| And needly will be rank’d with other griefs, | |
| Why follow’d not, when she said ‘Tybalt’s dead,’ | 125 |
| Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, | |
| Which modern lamentation might have mov’d? | |
| But with a rearward following Tybalt’s death, | |
| ‘Romeo is banished!’ to speak that word | |
| Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, | 130 |
| All slain, all dead: ‘Romeo is banished!’ | |
| There is no end, no limit, measure, bound | |
| In that word’s death; no words can that woe sound.— | |
| Where is my father and my mother, nurse? | |
| Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt’s corse: | 135 |
| Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. | |
| Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, | |
| When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment. | |
| Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil’d, | |
| Both you and I, for Romeo is exil’d: | 140 |
| He made you for a highway to my bed, | |
| But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. | |
| Come, cords; come, nurse; I’ll to my wedding bed; | |
| And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! | |
| Nurse. Hie to your chamber; I’ll find Romeo | 145 |
| To comfort you: I wot well where he is. | |
| Hark ye, your Romeo will be here to-night: | |
| I’ll to him; he is hid at Laurence’ cell. | |
| Jul. O! find him; give this ring to my true knight, | |
| And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt. | 150 |
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