b00moscone

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    ACT I



    PROLOGUE



    Two households, both alike in dignity,

    In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

    From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

    Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

    From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

    A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

    Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

    Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

    The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

    And the continuance of their parents' rage,

    Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

    Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

    The which if you with patient ears attend,

    What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

    SCENE I. Verona. A public place.



    Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers

    SAMPSON

    Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.

    GREGORY

    No, for then we should be colliers.

    SAMPSON

    I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

    GREGORY

    Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.

    SAMPSON

    I strike quickly, being moved.

    GREGORY

    But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

    SAMPSON

    A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

    GREGORY

    To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:

    therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

    SAMPSON

    A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will

    take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

    GREGORY

    That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes

    to the wall.

    SAMPSON

    True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,

    are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push

    Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids

    to the wall.

    GREGORY

    The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

    SAMPSON

    'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I

    have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the

    maids, and cut off their heads.

    GREGORY

    The heads of the maids?

    SAMPSON

    Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;

    take it in what sense thou wilt.

    GREGORY

    They must take it in sense that feel it.

    SAMPSON

    Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and

    'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

    GREGORY

    'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou

    hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes

    two of the house of the Montagues.

    SAMPSON

    My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

    GREGORY

    How! turn thy back and run?

    SAMPSON

    Fear me not.

    GREGORY

    No, marry; I fear thee!

    SAMPSON

    Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

    GREGORY

    I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as

    they list.

    SAMPSON

    Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;

    which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

    Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR



    ABRAHAM

    Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

    SAMPSON

    I do bite my thumb, sir.

    ABRAHAM

    Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

    SAMPSON

    [Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say

    ay?

    GREGORY

    No.

    SAMPSON

    No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I

    bite my thumb, sir.

    GREGORY

    Do you quarrel, sir?

    ABRAHAM

    Quarrel sir! no, sir.

    SAMPSON

    If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.

    ABRAHAM

    No better.

    SAMPSON

    Well, sir.

    GREGORY

    Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.

    SAMPSON

    Yes, better, sir.

    ABRAHAM

    You lie.

    SAMPSON

    Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

    They fight



    Enter BENVOLIO



    BENVOLIO

    Part, fools!

    Put up your swords; you know not what you do.

    Beats down their swords



    Enter TYBALT



    TYBALT

    What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?

    Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

    BENVOLIO

    I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,

    Or manage it to part these men with me.

    TYBALT

    What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,

    As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:

    Have at thee, coward!

    They fight



    Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs



    First Citizen

    Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!

    Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

    Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET



    CAPULET

    What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

    LADY CAPULET

    A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?

    CAPULET

    My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,

    And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

    Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE



    MONTAGUE

    Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.

    LADY MONTAGUE

    Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.

    Enter PRINCE, with Attendants



    PRINCE

    Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

    Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--

    Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,

    That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

    With purple fountains issuing from your veins,

    On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

    Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,

    And hear the sentence of your moved prince.

    Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,

    By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

    Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,

    And made Verona's ancient citizens

    Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

    To wield old partisans, in hands as old,

    Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:

    If ever you disturb our streets again,

    Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

    For this time, all the rest depart away:

    You Capulet; shall go along with me:

    And, Montague, come you this afternoon,

    To know our further pleasure in this case,

    To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.

    Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

    Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO



    MONTAGUE

    Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?

    Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

    BENVOLIO

    Here were the servants of your adversary,

    And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:

    I drew to part them: in the instant came

    The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,

    Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,

    He swung about his head and cut the winds,

    Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:

    While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,

    Came more and more and fought on part and part,

    Till the prince came, who parted either part.

    LADY MONTAGUE

    O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?

    Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

    BENVOLIO

    Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun

    Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,

    A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;

    Where, underneath the grove of sycamore

    That westward rooteth from the city's side,

    So early walking did I see your son:

    Towards him I made, but he was ware of me

    And stole into the covert of the wood:

    I, measuring his affections by my own,

    That most are busied when they're most alone,

    Pursued my humour not pursuing his,

    And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

    MONTAGUE

    Many a morning hath he there been seen,

    With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.

    Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;

    But all so soon as the all-cheering sun

    Should in the furthest east begin to draw

    The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,

    Away from the light steals home my heavy son,

    And private in his chamber pens himself,

    Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out

    And makes himself an artificial night:

    Black and portentous must this humour prove,

    Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

    BENVOLIO

    My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

    MONTAGUE

    I neither know it nor can learn of him.

    BENVOLIO

    Have you importuned him by any means?

    MONTAGUE

    Both by myself and many other friends:

    But he, his own affections' counsellor,

    Is to himself--I will not say how true--

    But to himself so secret and so close,

    So far from sounding and discovery,

    As is the bud bit with an envious worm,

    Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,

    Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

    Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.

    We would as willingly give cure as know.

    Enter ROMEO



    BENVOLIO

    See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;

    I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

    MONTAGUE

    I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,

    To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.

    Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE



    BENVOLIO

    Good-morrow, cousin.

    ROMEO

    Is the day so young?

    BENVOLIO

    But new struck nine.

    ROMEO

    Ay me! sad hours seem long.

    Was that my father that went hence so fast?

    BENVOLIO

    It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

    ROMEO

    Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

    BENVOLIO

    In love?

    ROMEO

    Out--

    BENVOLIO

    Of love?

    ROMEO

    Out of her favour, where I am in love.

    BENVOLIO

    Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,

    Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

    ROMEO

    Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,

    Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!

    Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?

    Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

    Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.

    Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!

    O any thing, of nothing first create!

    O heavy lightness! serious vanity!

    Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

    Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,

    sick health!

    Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

    This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

    Dost thou not laugh?

    BENVOLIO

    No, coz, I rather weep.

    ROMEO

    Good heart, at what?

    BENVOLIO

    At thy good heart's oppression.

    ROMEO

    Why, such is love's transgression.

    Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

    Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest

    With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown

    Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

    Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

    Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;

    Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:

    What is it else? a madness most discreet,

    A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

    Farewell, my coz.

    BENVOLIO

    Soft! I will go along;

    An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

    ROMEO

    Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;

    This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

    BENVOLIO

    Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

    ROMEO

    What, shall I groan and tell thee?

    BENVOLIO

    Groan! why, no.

    But sadly tell me who.

    ROMEO

    Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:

    Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!

    In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

    BENVOLIO

    I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.

    ROMEO

    A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.

    BENVOLIO

    A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

    ROMEO

    Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit

    With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;

    And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,

    From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.

    She will not stay the siege of loving terms,

    Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,

    Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:

    O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,

    That when she dies with beauty dies her store.

    BENVOLIO

    Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

    ROMEO

    She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,

    For beauty starved with her severity

    Cuts beauty off from all posterity.

    She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,

    To merit bliss by making me despair:

    She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow

    Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

    BENVOLIO

    Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

    ROMEO

    O, teach me how I should forget to think.

    BENVOLIO

    By giving liberty unto thine eyes;

    Examine other beauties.

    ROMEO

    'Tis the way

    To call hers exquisite, in question more:

    These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows

    Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;

    He that is strucken blind cannot forget

    The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:

    Show me a mistress that is passing fair,

    What doth her beauty serve, but as a note

    Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?

    Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.

    BENVOLIO

    I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

    Exeunt



    SCENE II. A street.



    Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant

    CAPULET

    But Montague is bound as well as I,

    In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,

    For men so old as we to keep the peace.

    PARIS

    Of honourable reckoning are you both;

    And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.

    But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

    CAPULET

    But saying o'er what I have said before:

    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.

    PARIS

    Younger than she are happy mothers made.

    CAPULET

    And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

    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



    Servant

    Find them out whose names are written here! It is

    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



    BENVOLIO

    Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,

    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.

    ROMEO

    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;

    Shut up in prison, kept without my food,

    Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.

    Servant

    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, I

    pray, can you read any thing you see?

    ROMEO

    Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

    Servant

    Ye say honestly: rest you merry!

    ROMEO

    Stay, fellow; I can read.

    Reads



    '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?

    Servant

    Up.

    ROMEO

    Whither?

    Servant

    To supper; to our house.

    ROMEO

    Whose house?

    Servant

    My master's.

    ROMEO

    Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.

    Servant

    Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the

    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!

    Exit



    BENVOLIO

    At this same ancient feast of Capulet's

    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.

    ROMEO

    When the devout religion of mine eye

    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.

    BENVOLIO

    Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,

    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.

    ROMEO

    I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,

    But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

    Exeunt



    SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.



    Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse

    LADY CAPULET

    Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

    Nurse

    Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,

    I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!

    God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

    Enter JULIET



    JULIET

    How now! who calls?

    Nurse

    Your mother.

    JULIET

    Madam, I am here.

    What is your will?

    LADY CAPULET

    This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,

    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.

    Nurse

    Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

    LADY CAPULET

    She's not fourteen.

    Nurse

    I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--

    And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--

    She is not fourteen. How long is it now

    To Lammas-tide?

    LADY CAPULET

    A fortnight and odd days.

    Nurse

    Even or odd, of all days in the year,

    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.'

    LADY CAPULET

    Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

    Nurse

    Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,

    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.'

    JULIET

    And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

    Nurse

    Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!

    Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:

    An I might live to see thee married once,

    I have my wish.

    LADY CAPULET

    Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme

    I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,

    How stands your disposition to be married?

    JULIET

    It is an honour that I dream not of.

    Nurse

    An honour! were not I thine only nurse,

    I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.

    LADY CAPULET

    Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,

    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.

    Nurse

    A man, young lady! lady, such a man

    As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.

    LADY CAPULET

    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?

    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.

    Nurse

    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:

    But no more deep will I endart mine eye

    Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

    Enter a Servant



    Servant

    Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you

    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.

    LADY CAPULET

    We follow thee.

    Exit Servant



    Juliet, the county stays.

    Nurse

    Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

    Exeunt



    SCENE IV. A street.



    Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others

    ROMEO

    What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?

    Or shall we on without a apology?

    BENVOLIO

    The date is out of such prolixity:

    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.

    ROMEO

    Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;

    Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

    MERCUTIO

    Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

    ROMEO

    Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes

    With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead

    So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

    MERCUTIO

    You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,

    And soar with them above a common bound.

    ROMEO

    I am too sore enpierced with his shaft

    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.

    MERCUTIO

    And, to sink in it, should you burden love;

    Too great oppression for a tender thing.

    ROMEO

    Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,

    Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

    MERCUTIO

    If love be rough with you, be rough with love;

    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.

    BENVOLIO

    Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,

    But every man betake him to his legs.

    ROMEO

    A torch for me: let wantons light of heart

    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.

    MERCUTIO

    Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:

    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!

    ROMEO

    Nay, that's not so.

    MERCUTIO

    I mean, sir, in delay

    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.

    ROMEO

    And we mean well in going to this mask;

    But 'tis no wit to go.

    MERCUTIO

    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.

    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--

    ROMEO

    Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!

    Thou talk'st of nothing.

    MERCUTIO

    True, I talk of dreams,

    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.

    BENVOLIO

    This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;

    Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

    ROMEO

    I fear, too early: for my mind misgives

    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.

    BENVOLIO

    Strike, drum.

    Exeunt



    SCENE V. A hall in Capulet's house.



    Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins

    First Servant

    Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He

    shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!

    Second Servant

    When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's

    hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

    First Servant

    Away with the joint-stools, remove the

    court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save

    me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let

    the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.

    Antony, and Potpan!

    Second Servant

    Ay, boy, ready.

    First Servant

    You are looked for and called for, asked for and

    sought for, in the great chamber.

    Second Servant

    We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be

    brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

    Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers



    CAPULET

    Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes

    Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.

    Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all

    Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,

    She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?

    Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day

    That I have worn a visor and could tell

    A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,

    Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:

    You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.

    A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.

    Music plays, and they dance



    More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,

    And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.

    Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.

    Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;

    For you and I are past our dancing days:

    How long is't now since last yourself and I

    Were in a mask?

    Second Capulet

    By'r lady, thirty years.

    CAPULET

    What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:

    'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,

    Come pentecost as quickly as it will,

    Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.

    Second Capulet

    'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;

    His son is thirty.

    CAPULET

    Will you tell me that?

    His son was but a ward two years ago.

    ROMEO

    [To a Servingman] What lady is that, which doth

    enrich the hand

    Of yonder knight?

    Servant

    I know not, sir.

    ROMEO

    O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

    It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night

    Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;

    Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!

    So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,

    As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

    The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,

    And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.

    Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!

    For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

    TYBALT

    This, by his voice, should be a Montague.

    Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave

    Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,

    To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

    Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,

    To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

    CAPULET

    Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

    TYBALT

    Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,

    A villain that is hither come in spite,

    To scorn at our solemnity this night.

    CAPULET

    Young Romeo is it?

    TYBALT

    'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

    CAPULET

    Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;

    He bears him like a portly gentleman;

    And, to say truth, Verona brags of him

    To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:

    I would not for the wealth of all the town

    Here in my house do him disparagement:

    Therefore be patient, take no note of him:

    It is my will, the which if thou respect,

    Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,

    And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

    TYBALT

    It fits, when such a villain is a guest:

    I'll not endure him.

    CAPULET

    He shall be endured:

    What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;

    Am I the master here, or you? go to.

    You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!

    You'll make a mutiny among my guests!

    You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

    TYBALT

    Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

    CAPULET

    Go to, go to;

    You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?

    This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:

    You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.

    Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:

    Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame!

    I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!

    TYBALT

    Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting

    Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.

    I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall

    Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.

    Exit



    ROMEO

    [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand

    This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

    My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

    To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

    JULIET

    Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

    Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

    For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

    And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

    ROMEO

    Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

    JULIET

    Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

    ROMEO

    O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

    They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

    JULIET

    Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

    ROMEO

    Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

    Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

    JULIET

    Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

    ROMEO

    Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

    Give me my sin again.

    JULIET

    You kiss by the book.

    Nurse

    Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

    ROMEO

    What is her mother?

    Nurse

    Marry, bachelor,

    Her mother is the lady of the house,

    And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous

    I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;

    I tell you, he that can lay hold of her

    Shall have the chinks.

    ROMEO

    Is she a Capulet?

    O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

    BENVOLIO

    Away, begone; the sport is at the best.

    ROMEO

    Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

    CAPULET

    Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;

    We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.

    Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all

    I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.

    More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.

    Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:

    I'll to my rest.

    Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse



    JULIET

    Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?

    Nurse

    The son and heir of old Tiberio.

    JULIET

    What's he that now is going out of door?

    Nurse

    Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.

    JULIET

    What's he that follows there, that would not dance?

    Nurse

    I know not.

    JULIET

    Go ask his name: if he be married.

    My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

    Nurse

    His name is Romeo, and a Montague;

    The only son of your great enemy.

    JULIET

    My only love sprung from my only hate!

    Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

    Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

    That I must love a loathed enemy.

    Nurse

    What's this? what's this?

    JULIET

    A rhyme I learn'd even now

    Of one I danced withal.

    One calls within 'Juliet.'



    Nurse

    Anon, anon!

    Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

    Exeunt



    ACT II



    PROLOGUE



    Enter Chorus

    Chorus

    Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,

    And young affection gapes to be his heir;

    That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,

    With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.

    Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,

    Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,

    But to his foe supposed he must complain,

    And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:

    Being held a foe, he may not have access

    To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;

    And she as much in love, her means much less

    To meet her new-beloved any where:

    But passion lends them power, time means, to meet

    Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

    Exit



    SCENE I. A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard.



    Enter ROMEO

    ROMEO

    Can I go forward when my heart is here?

    Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

    He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it



    Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO



    BENVOLIO

    Romeo! my cousin Romeo!

    MERCUTIO

    He is wise;

    And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.

    BENVOLIO

    He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:

    Call, good Mercutio.

    MERCUTIO

    Nay, I'll conjure too.

    Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!

    Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:

    Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;

    Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'

    Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

    One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,

    Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,

    When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!

    He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;

    The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.

    I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,

    By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,

    By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh

    And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,

    That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

    BENVOLIO

    And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

    MERCUTIO

    This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him

    To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle

    Of some strange nature, letting it there stand

    Till she had laid it and conjured it down;

    That were some spite: my invocation

    Is fair and honest, and in his mistres s' name

    I conjure only but to raise up him.

    BENVOLIO

    Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,

    To be consorted with the humorous night:

    Blind is his love and best befits the dark.

    MERCUTIO

    If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

    Now will he sit under a medlar tree,

    And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit

    As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.

    Romeo, that she were, O, that she were

    An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!

    Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;

    This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:

    Come, shall we go?

    BENVOLIO

    Go, then; for 'tis in vain

    To seek him here that means not to be found.

    Exeunt



    SCENE II. Capulet's orchard.



    Enter ROMEO

    ROMEO

    He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

    JULIET appears above at a window



    But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

    It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

    Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

    Who is already sick and pale with grief,

    That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

    Be not her maid, since she is envious;

    Her vestal livery is but sick and green

    And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

    It is my lady, O, it is my love!

    O, that she knew she were!

    She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?

    Her eye discourses; I will answer it.

    I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:

    Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

    Having some business, do entreat her eyes

    To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

    What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

    The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,

    As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven

    Would through the airy region stream so bright

    That birds would sing and think it were not night.

    See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

    O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

    That I might touch that cheek!

    JULIET

    Ay me!

    ROMEO

    She speaks:

    O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

    As glorious to this night, being o'er my head

    As is a winged messenger of heaven

    Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

    Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

    When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds

    And sails upon the bosom of the air.

    JULIET

    O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

    Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

    Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

    And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

    ROMEO

    [Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

    JULIET

    'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

    Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

    What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

    Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

    Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

    What's in a name? that which we call a rose

    By any other name would smell as sweet;

    So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,

    Retain that dear perfection which he owes

    Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

    And for that name which is no part of thee

    Take all myself.

    ROMEO

    I take thee at thy word:

    Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;

    Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

    JULIET

    What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night

    So stumblest on my counsel?

    ROMEO

    By a name

    I know not how to tell thee who I am:

    My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,

    Because it is an enemy to thee;

    Had I it written, I would tear the word.

    JULIET

    My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words

    Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:

    Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?

    ROMEO

    Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

    JULIET

    How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

    The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,

    And the place death, considering who thou art,

    If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

    ROMEO

    With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;

    For stony limits cannot hold love out,

    And what love can do that dares love attempt;

    Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

    JULIET

    If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

    ROMEO

    Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye

    Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,

    And I am proof against their enmity.

    JULIET

    I would not for the world they saw thee here.

    ROMEO

    I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;

    And but thou love me, let them find me here:

    My life were better ended by their hate,

    Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

    JULIET

    By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

    ROMEO

    By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;

    He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.

    I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

    As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,

    I would adventure for such merchandise.

    JULIET

    Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,

    Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

    For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night

    Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny

    What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!

    Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'

    And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,

    Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries

    Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,

    If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:

    Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,

    I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,

    So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.

    In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,

    And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:

    But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true

    Than those that have more cunning to be strange.

    I should have been more strange, I must confess,

    But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,

    My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,

    And not impute this yielding to light love,

    Which the dark night hath so discovered.

    ROMEO

    Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear

    That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

    JULIET

    O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

    That monthly changes in her circled orb,

    Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

    ROMEO

    What shall I swear by?

    JULIET

    Do not swear at all;

    Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

    Which is the god of my idolatry,

    And I'll believe thee.

    ROMEO

    If my heart's dear love--

    JULIET

    Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,

    I have no joy of this contract to-night:

    It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;

    Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be

    Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!

    This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,

    May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

    Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest

    Come to thy heart as that within my breast!

    ROMEO

    O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

    JULIET

    What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

    ROMEO

    The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

    JULIET

    I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:

    And yet I would it were to give again.

    ROMEO

    Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

    JULIET

    But to be frank, and give it thee again.

    And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

    My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

    My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

    The more I have, for both are infinite.

    Nurse calls within



    I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!

    Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.

    Stay but a little, I will come again.

    Exit, above



    ROMEO

    O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.

    Being in night, all this is but a dream,

    Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

    Re-enter JULIET, above



    JULIET

    Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.

    If that thy bent of love be honourable,

    Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,

    By one that I'll procure to come to thee,

    Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;

    And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay

    And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

    Nurse

    [Within] Madam!

    JULIET

    I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,

    I do beseech thee--

    Nurse

    [Within] Madam!

    JULIET

    By and by, I come:--

    To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:

    To-morrow will I send.

    ROMEO

    So thrive my soul--

    JULIET

    A thousand times good night!

    Exit, above



    ROMEO

    A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.

    Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from

    their books,

    But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

    Retiring



    Re-enter JULIET, above



    JULIET

    Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,

    To lure this tassel-gentle back again!

    Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;

    Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,

    And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,

    With repetition of my Romeo's name.

    ROMEO

    It is my soul that calls upon my name:

    How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,

    Like softest music to attending ears!

    JULIET

    Romeo!

    ROMEO

    My dear?

    JULIET

    At what o'clock to-morrow

    Shall I send to thee?

    ROMEO

    At the hour of nine.

    JULIET

    I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.

    I have forgot why I did call thee back.

    ROMEO

    Let me stand here till thou remember it.

    JULIET

    I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,

    Remembering how I love thy company.

    ROMEO

    And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,

    Forgetting any other home but this.

    JULIET

    'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:

    And yet no further than a wanton's bird;

    Who lets it hop a little from her hand,

    Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,

    And with a silk thread plucks it back again,

    So loving-jealous of his liberty.

    ROMEO

    I would I were thy bird.

    JULIET

    Sweet, so would I:

    Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

    Good night, good night! parting is such

    sweet sorrow,

    That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

    Exit above



    ROMEO

    Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!

    Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!

    Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,

    His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

    Exit



    SCENE III. Friar Laurence's cell.



    Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,

    Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,

    And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels

    From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:

    Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,

    The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,

    I must up-fill this osier cage of ours

    With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.

    The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;

    What is her burying grave that is her womb,

    And from her womb children of divers kind

    We sucking on her natural bosom find,

    Many for many virtues excellent,

    None but for some and yet all different.

    O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies

    In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:

    For nought so vile that on the earth doth live

    But to the earth some special good doth give,

    Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use

    Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:

    Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;

    And vice sometimes by action dignified.

    Within the infant rind of this small flower

    Poison hath residence and medicine power:

    For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;

    Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.

    Two such opposed kings encamp them still

    In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;

    And where the worser is predominant,

    Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

    Enter ROMEO



    ROMEO

    Good morrow, father.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Benedicite!

    What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

    Young son, it argues a distemper'd head

    So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:

    Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,

    And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;

    But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain

    Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:

    Therefore thy earliness doth me assure

    Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;

    Or if not so, then here I hit it right,

    Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

    ROMEO

    That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

    ROMEO

    With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;

    I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?

    ROMEO

    I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.

    I have been feasting with mine enemy,

    Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,

    That's by me wounded: both our remedies

    Within thy help and holy physic lies:

    I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,

    My intercession likewise steads my foe.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;

    Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

    ROMEO

    Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set

    On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:

    As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;

    And all combined, save what thou must combine

    By holy marriage: when and where and how

    We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,

    I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,

    That thou consent to marry us to-day.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!

    Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,

    So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies

    Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

    Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine

    Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!

    How much salt water thrown away in waste,

    To season love, that of it doth not taste!

    The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,

    Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;

    Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit

    Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:

    If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,

    Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:

    And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,

    Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

    ROMEO

    Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

    ROMEO

    And bad'st me bury love.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Not in a grave,

    To lay one in, another out to have.

    ROMEO

    I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now

    Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;

    The other did not so.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    O, she knew well

    Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.

    But come, young waverer, come, go with me,

    In one respect I'll thy assistant be;

    For this alliance may so happy prove,

    To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

    ROMEO

    O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

    Exeunt



    SCENE IV. A street.



    Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO

    MERCUTIO

    Where the devil should this Romeo be?

    Came he not home to-night?

    BENVOLIO

    Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

    MERCUTIO

    Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.

    Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

    BENVOLIO

    Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,

    Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

    MERCUTIO

    A challenge, on my life.

    BENVOLIO

    Romeo will answer it.

    MERCUTIO

    Any man that can write may answer a letter.

    BENVOLIO

    Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he

    dares, being dared.

    MERCUTIO

    Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a

    white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a

    love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the

    blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to

    encounter Tybalt?

    BENVOLIO

    Why, what is Tybalt?

    MERCUTIO

    More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is

    the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as

    you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and

    proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and

    the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk

    button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the

    very first house, of the first and second cause:

    ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the

    hai!

    BENVOLIO

    The what?

    MERCUTIO

    The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting

    fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,

    a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good

    whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing,

    grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with

    these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these

    perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,

    that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their

    bones, their bones!

    Enter ROMEO



    BENVOLIO

    Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

    MERCUTIO

    Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh,

    how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers

    that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a

    kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to

    be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy;

    Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey

    eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior

    Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation

    to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit

    fairly last night.

    ROMEO

    Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

    MERCUTIO

    The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

    ROMEO

    Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in

    such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

    MERCUTIO

    That's as much as to say, such a case as yours

    constrains a man to bow in the hams.

    ROMEO

    Meaning, to court'sy.

    MERCUTIO

    Thou hast most kindly hit it.

    ROMEO

    A most courteous exposition.

    MERCUTIO

    Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

    ROMEO

    Pink for flower.

    MERCUTIO

    Right.

    ROMEO

    Why, then is my pump well flowered.

    MERCUTIO

    Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast

    worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it

    is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.

    ROMEO

    O single-soled jest, solely singular for the

    singleness.

    MERCUTIO

    Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

    ROMEO

    Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

    MERCUTIO

    Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have

    done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of

    thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five:

    was I with you there for the goose?

    ROMEO

    Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast

    not there for the goose.

    MERCUTIO

    I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

    ROMEO

    Nay, good goose, bite not.

    MERCUTIO

    Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most

    sharp sauce.

    ROMEO

    And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

    MERCUTIO

    O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an

    inch narrow to an ell broad!

    ROMEO

    I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added

    to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

    MERCUTIO

    Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?

    now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art

    thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:

    for this drivelling love is like a great natural,

    that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

    BENVOLIO

    Stop there, stop there.

    MERCUTIO

    Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

    BENVOLIO

    Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

    MERCUTIO

    O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:

    for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and

    meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

    ROMEO

    Here's goodly gear!

    Enter Nurse and PETER



    MERCUTIO

    A sail, a sail!

    BENVOLIO

    Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

    Nurse

    Peter!

    PETER

    Anon!

    Nurse

    My fan, Peter.

    MERCUTIO

    Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the

    fairer face.

    Nurse

    God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

    MERCUTIO

    God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

    Nurse

    Is it good den?

    MERCUTIO

    'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the

    dial is now upon the prick of noon.

    Nurse

    Out upon you! what a man are you!

    ROMEO

    One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to

    mar.

    Nurse

    By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,'

    quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I

    may find the young Romeo?

    ROMEO

    I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when

    you have found him than he was when you sought him:

    I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.

    Nurse

    You say well.

    MERCUTIO

    Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;

    wisely, wisely.

    Nurse

    if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with

    you.

    BENVOLIO

    She will indite him to some supper.

    MERCUTIO

    A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!

    ROMEO

    What hast thou found?

    MERCUTIO

    No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,

    that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

    Sings



    An old hare hoar,

    And an old hare hoar,

    Is very good meat in lent

    But a hare that is hoar

    Is too much for a score,

    When it hoars ere it be spent.

    Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll

    to dinner, thither.

    ROMEO

    I will follow you.

    MERCUTIO

    Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

    Singing



    'lady, lady, lady.'

    Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO



    Nurse

    Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy

    merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?

    ROMEO

    A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,

    and will speak more in a minute than he will stand

    to in a month.

    Nurse

    An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him

    down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such

    Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.

    Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am

    none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by

    too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

    PETER

    I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon

    should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare

    draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a

    good quarrel, and the law on my side.

    Nurse

    Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about

    me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:

    and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you

    out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:

    but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into

    a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross

    kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman

    is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double

    with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered

    to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

    ROMEO

    Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I

    protest unto thee--

    Nurse

    Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:

    Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

    ROMEO

    What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

    Nurse

    I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as

    I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

    ROMEO

    Bid her devise

    Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;

    And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell

    Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

    Nurse

    No truly sir; not a penny.

    ROMEO

    Go to; I say you shall.

    Nurse

    This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

    ROMEO

    And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:

    Within this hour my man shall be with thee

    And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;

    Which to the high top-gallant of my joy

    Must be my convoy in the secret night.

    Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:

    Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

    Nurse

    Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

    ROMEO

    What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

    Nurse

    Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,

    Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

    ROMEO

    I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

    NURSE

    Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,

    Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there

    is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain

    lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief

    see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her

    sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer

    man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks

    as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not

    rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

    ROMEO

    Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

    Nurse

    Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for

    the--No; I know it begins with some other

    letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of

    it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good

    to hear it.

    ROMEO

    Commend me to thy lady.

    Nurse

    Ay, a thousand times.

    Exit Romeo



    Peter!

    PETER

    Anon!

    Nurse

    Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.

    Exeunt



    SCENE V. Capulet's orchard.



    Enter JULIET

    JULIET

    The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;

    In half an hour she promised to return.

    Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.

    O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,

    Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,

    Driving back shadows over louring hills:

    Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,

    And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

    Now is the sun upon the highmost hill

    Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve

    Is three long hours, yet she is not come.

    Had she affections and warm youthful blood,

    She would be as swift in motion as a ball;

    My words would bandy her to my sweet love,

    And his to me:

    But old folks, many feign as they were dead;

    Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

    O God, she comes!

    Enter Nurse and PETER



    O honey nurse, what news?

    Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

    Nurse

    Peter, stay at the gate.

    Exit PETER



    JULIET

    Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad?

    Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;

    If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news

    By playing it to me with so sour a face.

    Nurse

    I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:

    Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!

    JULIET

    I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:

    Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.

    Nurse

    Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?

    Do you not see that I am out of breath?

    JULIET

    How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath

    To say to me that thou art out of breath?

    The excuse that thou dost make in this delay

    Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.

    Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;

    Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:

    Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?

    Nurse

    Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not

    how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his

    face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels

    all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,

    though they be not to be talked on, yet they are

    past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,

    but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy

    ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?

    JULIET

    No, no: but all this did I know before.

    What says he of our marriage? what of that?

    Nurse

    Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!

    It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.

    My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!

    Beshrew your heart for sending me about,

    To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

    JULIET

    I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.

    Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

    Nurse

    Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a

    courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I

    warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?

    JULIET

    Where is my mother! why, she is within;

    Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!

    'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,

    Where is your mother?'

    Nurse

    O God's lady dear!

    Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;

    Is this the poultice for my aching bones?

    Henceforward do your messages yourself.

    JULIET

    Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo?

    Nurse

    Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

    JULIET

    I have.

    Nurse

    Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;

    There stays a husband to make you a wife:

    Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,

    They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.

    Hie you to church; I must another way,

    To fetch a ladder, by the which your love

    Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark:

    I am the drudge and toil in your delight,

    But you shall bear the burden soon at night.

    Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell.

    JULIET

    Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.

    Exeunt



    SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's cell.



    Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    So smile the heavens upon this holy act,

    That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

    ROMEO

    Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,

    It cannot countervail the exchange of joy

    That one short minute gives me in her sight:

    Do thou but close our hands with holy words,

    Then love-devouring death do what he dare;

    It is enough I may but call her mine.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    These violent delights have violent ends

    And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

    Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey

    Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

    And in the taste confounds the appetite:

    Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;

    Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

    Enter JULIET



    Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot

    Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:

    A lover may bestride the gossamer

    That idles in the wanton summer air,

    And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

    JULIET

    Good even to my ghostly confessor.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

    JULIET

    As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

    ROMEO

    Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

    Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more

    To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

    This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue

    Unfold the imagined happiness that both

    Receive in either by this dear encounter.

    JULIET

    Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

    Brags of his substance, not of ornament:

    They are but beggars that can count their worth;

    But my true love is grown to such excess

    I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

    FRIAR LAURENCE

    Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

    For, by your

    pretty mediocre Kappa

    on 28 September 2017

    :I

    on 29 September 2017

    I had no idea wall posts could even be this long!

    on 02 October 2017

    Why would anyone allow a wall post of this length?

    on 16 October 2017

    < VGPolyglot posted something on b00moscone's wall:

    "Don't fucking shitpost dude" When did you post that?

    Noo, is because i accidently kept myself logged onto Zennoy's PC, so he went and did that > : (

    on 04 September 2017

    LOL

    on 04 September 2017

    < VGPolyglot posted something on b00moscone's wall:

    Well, I guess I already said it before But thanks for accepting here too!!

    No worries, surprised i didn't already add you O.O

    on 01 July 2017

    < Kerotan posted something on b00moscone's wall:

    hey man, what games are you looking forward to getting on your ps4?

    Hello! Thanks for asking, there are quite a few, so i'll divide them into 3 little sections!

    For ones that have already come out, i'm interested in the Yakuza games, Persona 5 (If any stock arrives T-T), FFXV, Dark Souls 3 and a few others not on my mind right now. However, a really good (Or bad, for my wallet =_=) thing is the load of cheap used games, for example i saw Doom for only £8, which was extremely tempting!

    For ones coming out, you've got Crash out today, Ni No Kuni 2 (Was playing the first, which i was enjoying, but PS3 stopped working T-T) FFXII, Shadow of War and some others. A bigger one is probably Monster Hunter Worlds, since after playing MH3U, it felt quite slow, repetitive etc. And Worlds seems to make things a lot more exciting with more options and a more organic way of doing things, so i'll keep a very close eye on it, though i may wait a little to see what (if anything) Capcom may do with MH on Switch.

    As for games i already own, i only have Bloodborne and Nier Automata. Bloodborne so far i've thoroughly enjoyed, really a fantastic game, so much so i've not even tried out Nier yet! :(

    Sorry for the wall of text, just wanted to give you a good answer! c:

    on 30 June 2017

    Very good answer. Hope you enjoy them all!

    on 30 June 2017

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    Xenoblade 2's minor, but annoying detail

    in Gaming Discussion on 13 November 2017

    Kinda neutral on the matter, though personally i don't think minimal clothing results in the best designs. I can get the complaints, though if such a small nitpick is turning you off from the entire game, then i doubt you were interested in getting the game in the first place. (Not saying that's your stance!) I feel kinda similarly to the whole 'generic art-style' thing, as previous games were...

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