Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
Not Peer Reviewed

Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)


The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.
61

We sucking on her naturall bosome find:
Many for many vertues excellent:
None but for some, and yet all different.
1020Omickle is the powerfull grace that lies
In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile, that on the earth doth liue,
But to the earth some speciall good doth giue.
Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse,
1025Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied,
And vice sometime by action dignified.
Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rin'd of this weake flower,
1030Poyson hath residence, and medicine power:
For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part,
Being tasted slayes all sences with the heart.
Two such opposed Kings encampe them still,
In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will:
1035And where the worser is predominant,
Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant.
Rom. Good morrow Father.
Fri. Benedecite.
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
1040Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head,
So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed;
Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye,
And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye:
But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine
1045Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne;
Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure,
Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right.
Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night.
1050Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No,
I haue forgot that name, and that names woe.
Fri. That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then?
1055Rom. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen:
I haue beene feasting with mine enemie,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded: both our remedies
Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies:
1060I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe
My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Fri. Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift,
Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift.
Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set,
1065On the faire daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when and where, and how,
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow:
1070Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray,
That thou consent to marrie vs to day.
Fri. Holy S. Francis, what a change is heere?
Is Rosaline that thou didst Loue so deare
So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies
1075Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline?
How much salt water throwne away in wast,
To season Loue that of it doth not tast.
1080The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares,
Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares:
Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit,
Of an old teare that is not washt off yet.
If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine,
1085Thou and these woes, were all for Rosaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for louing Rosaline.
Fri. For doting, not for louing pupill mine.
1090Rom. And bad'st me bury Loue.
Fri. Not in a graue,
To lay one in, another out to haue.
Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now
Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow:
1095The other did not so.
Fri. O she knew well,
Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell:
But come young wauerer, come goe with me,
In one respect, Ile thy assistant be:
1100For this alliance may so happy proue,
To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue.
Rom. O let vs hence, I stand on sudden hast.
Fri. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.
Exeunt
1105
Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.
Mer. Where the deule should this Romeo be? came he
not home to night?
Ben. Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.
Mer. Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that Ro-
1110saline torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a Let-
ter to his Fathers house.
Mer. A challenge on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answere it.
1115Mer. Any man that can write, may answere a Letter.
Ben. Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he
dares, being dared.
Mer. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead stab'd with
a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with
1120a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the
blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to encounter
Tybalt?
Ben. Why what is Tibalt?
Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragi-
1125ous Captaine of Complements: he fights as you sing
pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests
his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the ve-
ry butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman
of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the
1130immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay.
Ben. The what?
Mer. The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phan-
tacies, these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very good blade,
a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a la-
1135mentable thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted
with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers, these par-
don-mee's, who stand so much on the new form, that they
cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their
bones.
1140
Enter Romeo.
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh,
flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers
that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen
1145wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her: Dido
a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero, hildin(gs
and Harlots: Thisbie a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose.
Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French salutation to your
ff
French