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Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 1, 1597)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
Not Peer Reviewed
Enter Romeo and Iuliet at the window.
Iul:Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet nere day,
It was the Nightingale and not the Larke
2035That pierst the fearfull hollow of thine eare:
Nightly she sings on yon Pomegranate tree,
Beleeue me loue, it was the Nightingale.
Rom:It was the Larke, the Herald of the Morne,
And not the Nightingale. See Loue what enuious strakes
2040Doo lace the seuering clowdes in yonder East.
Nights candles are burnt out, and iocond Day
Stands tiptoes on the mystie mountaine tops.
I must be gone and liue, or stay and dye.
Iul:Yon light is not day light, I know it I:
2045It is some Meteor that the Sunne exhales,
To be this night to thee a Torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Then stay awhile, thou shalt not goe soone.
Rom:Let me stay here, let me be tane, and dye:
2050If thou wilt haue it so, I am content.
Ile say yon gray is not the Mornings Eye,
It is the pale reflex of Cynthias brow.
Ile say it is the Nightingale that beares
The vaultie heauen so high aboue our heads,
2055And not the Larke the Messenger of Morne.
Come death and welcome, Iuliet wils it so.
What sayes my Loue? lets talke, tis not yet day.
Iul:It is, it is, be gone, flye hence away.
It is the Larke that sings so out of tune,
2060Straining harsh Discords and vnpleasing Sharpes.
Some say, the Larke makes sweete Diuision:
This doth not so: for this diuideth vs.
Some say the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
I would that now they had changd voyces too:
2065Since arme from arme her voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence with Huntsvp to the day.
So now be gone, more light and light it growes.
Rom:More light and light, more darke and darke our
woes.
2075Farewell my Loue, one kisse and Ile descend.
He goeth downe.
Iul:Art thou gone so, my Lord, my Loue, my Frend?
I must heare from thee euerie day in the hower:
For in an hower there are manie minutes,
Minutes are dayes, so will I number them:
2080Oh by this count I shall be much in yeares,
Ere I see thee againe.
Rom:Farewell, I will omit no opportunitie
That may conueigh my greetings loue to thee.
Iul:Oh, thinkst thou we shall euer meete againe.
2085Rom:No doubt, no doubt, and all this woe shall serue
For sweete discourses in the time to come.
Iul:Oh God, I haue an ill diuining soule.
Me thinkes I see thee now thou art below
Like one dead in the bottome of a Tombe:
2090Either mine ey-sight failes, or thou lookst pale.
Rom:And trust me Loue, in my eye so doo you,
Drie sorrow drinkes our blood: adieu, adieu.
Exit.
2092.1
Enter Nurse hastely.
Nur:Madame beware, take heed the day is broke,
Your Mother's comming to your Chamber, make all sure.
She goeth downe from the window.
Enter Iuliets Mother, Nurse.
Moth:Where are you Daughter?
2099.1Nur:What Ladie, Lambe, what Iuliet?
2100Iul:How now, who calls?
2100.1Nur:It is your Mother.
Moth:Why how now Iuliet?
Iul:Madam, I am not well.
2105Moth:Where euermore weeping for your Cosens death:
I thinke thoult wash him from his graue with teares.
2110Iul:I cannot chuse, hauing so great a losse.
2115Moth:I cannot blame thee.
But it greeues thee more that Villaine liues.
Iul:What Villaine Madame?
Moth:That Villaine Romeo.
Iul:Villaine and he are manie miles a sunder.
2125Moth:Content thee Girle, if I could finde a man
I soone would send to Mantua where he is,
That should bestow on him so sure a draught,
As he should soone beare Tybalt companie.
Iul:Finde you the meanes, and Ile finde such a man:
For whilest he liues, my heart shall nere be light
Till I behold him, dead is my poore heart.
Thus for a Kinsman vext?
Moth:Well let that passe. I come to bring thee ioyfull
Iul:And ioy comes well in such a needfull time.
2145Moth:Well then, thou hast a carefull Father Girle,
And one who pittying thy needfull state,
Hath found thee out a happie day of ioy.
Iul:What day is that I pray you?
2150Moth:Marry my Childe,
The gallant, yong and youthfull Gentlemen,
The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,
2152.1Early next Thursday morning must prouide,
To make you there a glad and ioyfull Bride.
Iul:Now by Saint Peters Church and Peter too,
2155He shall not there make mee a ioyfull Bride.
Are these the newes you had to tell me of?
Marrie here are newes indeed. Madame I will not marrie
2159.1yet.
And when I doo, it shalbe rather Romeo whom I hate,
Then Countie Paris that I cannot loue.
Enter olde Capolet.
Moth:Here comes your Father, you may tell him so.
Capo:Why how now, euermore showring?
2169.1In one little bodie thou resemblest a sea, a barke, a storme:
2170For this thy bodie which I tearme a barke,
Still floating in thy euerfalling teares,
And tost with sighes arising from thy hart:
2172.1Will without succour ship wracke presently.
But heare you Wife, what haue you sounded her, what saies
2176.1she to it?
Moth:I haue, but she will none she thankes ye:
2180VVould God that she were married to her graue.
Capo:What will she not, doth she not thanke vs, doth
she not wexe proud?
Iul:Not proud ye haue, but thankfull that ye haue:
2185Proud can I neuer be of that I hate,
But thankfull euen for hate that is ment loue.
Capo:Proud and I thanke you, and I thanke you not,
And yet not proud. VVhats here, chop logicke.
Proud me no prouds, nor thanke me no thankes,
But settle your fine ioynts on Thursday next
2195To goe with Paris to Saint Peters Church,
Or I will drag you on a hurdle thether.
Out you greene sicknes baggage, out you tallow face.
2200Iu:Good father heare me speake?
2200.1
She kneeles downe.
Cap:I tell thee what, eyther resolue on thursday next
To goe with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
Or henceforth neuer looke me in the face.
2205Speake not, reply not, for my fingers ytch.
Why wife, we thought that we were scarcely blest
That God had sent vs but this onely chyld:
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we haue a crosse in hauing her.
Nur:Mary God in heauen blesse her my Lord,
You are too blame to rate her so.
Cap.And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tung,
Good prudence smatter with your gossips, goe.
2215Nur:Why my Lord I speake no treason.
Cap:Oh godde godden.
Vtter your grauity ouer a gossips boule,
2220For heere we need it not.
Mo:My Lord ye are too hotte.
Cap:Gods blessed mother wife it mads me,
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,
Alone, in company, waking or sleeping,
2225Still my care hath beene to see her matcht.
And hauing how found out a Gentleman,
Of Princely parentage, youthfull, and nobly trainde.
Stuft as they say with honorable parts,
Proportioned as ones heart coulde wish a man:
2230And then to haue a wretched whyning foole,
A puling mammet in her fortunes tender,
To say I cannot loue, I am too yong, I pray you pardon
mee?
But if you cannot wedde Ile pardon you.
2235Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Looke to it, thinke ont, I doe not vse to iest.
I tell yee what, Thursday is neere,
2237.1Lay hand on heart, aduise, bethinke your selfe,
If you be mine, Ile giue you to my frend:
If not, hang, drowne, starue, beg,
2240Dye in the streetes: for by my Soule
2240.1Ile neuer more acknowledge thee,
Nor what I haue shall euer doe thee good,
Thinke ont, looke toot, I doe not vse to iest.
Exit.
Iul:Is there no pitty hanging in the cloudes,
That lookes into the bottom of my woes?
2245I doe beseech you Madame, cast me not away,
Defer this mariage for a day or two,
Or if you cannot, make my mariage bed
In that dimme monument where Tybalt lyes.
Moth:Nay be assured I will not speake a word.
2250Do what thou wilt for I haue done with thee.
Exit.
Iul:Ah Nurse what comfort? what counsell canst thou
giue me.
Nur.Now trust me Madame, I know not what to say:
Your Romeo he is banisht, and all the world to nothing
He neuer dares returne to challendge you.
Now I thinke good you marry with this County,
Oh he is a gallant Gentleman, Romeo is but a dishclout
In respect of him. I promise you
I thinke you happy in this second match.
As for your husband he is dead:
Or twere as good he were, for you haue no vse of him.
2275Iul:Speakst thou this from thy heart?
Nur:I and from my soule, of els beshrew them both.
Iul:Amen.
Nur:What say you Madame?
2280Iul:Well, thou hast comforted me wondrous much,
I pray thee goe thy waies vnto my mother
Tell her I am gone hauing displeasde my Father.
To Fryer Laurence Cell to confesse me,
And to be absolu'd.
Nur:I will, and this is wisely done.
2284.1
She lookes after Nurse.
2285Iul:Auncient damnation, O most cursed fiend.
Is it more sinne to wish me thus forsworne,
Or to dispraise him with the selfe same tongue
That thou hast praisde him with aboue compare
So many thousand times? Goe Counsellor,
2290Thou and my bosom henceforth shal be twaine.
Ile to the Fryer to know his remedy,
If all faile els, I haue the power to dye.
2292.1
Exit.