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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 n****e 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 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 c**k-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. ExeuntShakespeare homepage | Romeo and Juliet | Act 2, Prologue Previous scene | Next scene 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 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
JamieRawxx · Fri Nov 11, 2005 @ 05:14am · 0 Comments |
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