Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.
¶Iul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day:
¶It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
2035That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare,
¶Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale.
¶Rom. It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne:
¶No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes
¶Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day
¶Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops,
¶Iul. Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:
2045It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales,
¶To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,
¶And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
¶Rom. Let me be tane, let me be put to death,
¶Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye,
¶'Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow.
¶Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate
¶The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads,
2055I haue more care to stay, then will to go:
¶Come death and welcome, Iuliet wills it so.
¶Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone away:
¶Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
¶O now I would they had chang'd voyces too:
2065Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
¶Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day,
¶O now be gone, more light and it_light growes.
¶Rom. More light & light, more darke & darke our woes.
¶
Enter Madam and Nurse.
2070Nur. Madam.
¶Nur. Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber,
¶The day is broke, be wary, looke about.
¶Iul. Then window let day in, and let life out.
¶I must heare from thee euery day in the houre,
¶For in a minute there are many dayes,
¶O by this count I shall be much in yeares,
2080Ere I againe behold my Romeo.
¶Rom. Farewell:
¶I will omit no oportunitie,
¶That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee.
¶As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe,
¶Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue.
Exit.
¶Iul. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,
¶If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
2095That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune:
¶For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,
¶But send him backe.
¶
Enter Mother.
¶Lad. Ho Daughter, are you vp?
¶Lad. Why how now Iuliet?
¶Iul. Madam I am not well.
2105Lad. Euermore weeping for your Cozins death?
¶What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
¶Which you weepe for.
¶I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend.
¶As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him.
¶Iul. What Villaine, Madam?
2120God pardon, I doe with all my heart:
¶And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart.
¶Would none but I might venge my Cozins death.
2125Lad. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not.
¶Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in Mantua,
¶With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead
¶Madam if you could find out but a man
2135To beare a poyson, I would temper it;
¶That Romeo should vpon receit thereof,
¶Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors
¶To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him,
¶To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin,
2140Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him.
¶But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.
¶That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for.
¶Iul. Madam in happy time, what day is this?
¶The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman,
¶The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,
¶Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride.
¶Iul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too,
2155He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride.
¶Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe:
¶I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam,
¶I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare
2160It shallbe Romeo, whom you know I hate
¶Rather then Paris. These are newes indeed.
¶And see how he will take it at your hands.
¶
Enter Capulet and Nurse.
¶But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne,
¶It raines downright.
¶How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares?
¶Euermore showring in one little body?
2170Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind:
¶For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea,
¶Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is
¶Who raging with the teares and they with them,
¶Haue you deliuered to her our decree?
2180I would the foole were married to her graue.
¶Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife,
¶Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought
2185So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome
¶Iul. Not proud you haue,
¶But thankfull that you haue:
¶Proud can I neuer be of what I haue,
¶But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue.
2190Cap. How now?
¶How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this?
¶Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not.
¶Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
2195To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
¶Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither.
¶You tallow face.
¶Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad?
¶Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.
¶I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,
¶Or neuer after looke me in the face.
2205Speake not, reply not, do not answere me.
¶That God had lent vs but this onely Child,
¶But now I see this one is one too much,
¶And that we haue a curse in hauing her:
2210Out on her Hilding.
¶You are too blame my Lord to rate her so.
¶Father, O Godigoden,
¶May not one speake?
¶Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,
2220For here we need it not.
¶La. You are too hot.
¶Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad:
¶Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play,
¶Alone in companie, still my care hath bin
2225To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
¶A Gentleman of Noble Parentage,
¶Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied,
¶Stuft as they say with Honourable parts,
¶Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man,
2230And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
¶A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender,
¶To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue:
¶I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
¶But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you.
¶And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
2240For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee,
¶Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:
Exit.
¶That sees into the bottome of my griefe?
¶Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,
¶Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed
¶In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies.
2250Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.
Exit.
¶Iul. O God!
¶My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen,
¶How shall that faith returne againe to earth,
¶By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me:
2260Some comfort Nurse.
¶Nur. Faith here it is,
¶Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing,
¶That he dares nere come backe to challenge you:
¶I thinke it best you married with the Countie,
¶O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
¶Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam
2270As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart,
¶I thinke you are happy in this second match,
¶For it excels your first: or if it did not,
¶Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were,
¶As liuing here and you no vse of him.
¶Iul. Amen.
¶Nur. What?
¶Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
¶Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
Exeunt.
