Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
Peer Reviewed

Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 2, 1599)


Enter Iuliet alone.
1645Gallop apace, you fierie footed steedes,
Towards Phoebus lodging, such a wagoner
As Phaetan would whip you to the west,
And bring in clowdie night immediately.
Spread thy close curtaine loue-performing night,
1650That runnawayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene,
Louers can see to do their amorous rights,
And by their owne bewties, or if loue be blind,
It best agrees with night, come ciuill night,
1655Thou sober suted matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to loose a winning match,
Plaide for a paire of stainlesse maydenhoods.
Hood my vnmand bloud bayting in my cheekes,
With thy blacke mantle, till strange loue grow bold,
1660Thinke true loue acted simple modestie:
Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie vpon the winges of night,
Whiter then new snow vpon a Rauens backe:
Come gentle night, come louing black browd night,
1665Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little starres,
And he will make the face of heauen so fine,
That all the world will be in loue with night,
And pay no worship to the garish Sun.
1670O I haue bought the mansion of a loue,
But not possest it, and though I am sold,
Not yet enioyd, so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festiuall,
To an impatient child that hath new robes
1675And may not weare them. O here comes my Nurse:
Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings newes, and euery tongue that speaks
But Romeos name, speakes heauenly eloquence:
Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there,
1680The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?
Nur. I, I, the cords.
Iu. Ay me what news? Why dost thou wring thy hāds?
Nur. A weraday, hees dead, hees dead, hees dead,
1685We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.
Alack the day, hees gone, hees kild, hees dead.
Iu. Can heauen be so enuious?
Nur. Romeo can,
Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo,
1690Who euer would haue thought it Romeo?
Iu. What diuell art thou that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be rored in dismall hell,
Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I,
1695And that bare vowell I shall poyson more
Then the death arting eye of Cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be such an I.
Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I:
If he be slaine say I, or if not, no.
1700Briefe, sounds, determine my weale or wo.
Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God saue the marke, here on his manly brest,
A piteous coarse, a bloudie piteous coarse,
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawbde in bloud,
1705All in goare bloud, I sounded at the sight.
Iu. O break my hart, poore banckrout break at once,
To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie.
Vile earth too earth resigne, end motion here.
1710And thou and Romeo presse on heauie beare.
Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had,
O curteous Tybalt, honest Gentleman,
That euer I should liue to see thee dead.
Iu. What storme is this that blowes so contrarie?
1715Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord,
Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome,
For who is liuing, if those two are gone?
Nur. Tybalt is gone and Romeo banished,
1720Romeo that kild him he is banished.
Iuli. O God, did Romeos hand shead Tibalts bloud?
It did, it did, alas the day, it did.
Nur. O serpent heart, hid with a flowring face.
1725Iu. Did euer draggon keepe so faire a Caue?
Bewtifull tirant, fiend angelicall:
Rauenous douefeatherd rauē, woluishrauening lamb,
Despised substance of diuinest showe:
1730Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st,
A dimme saint, an honourable villaine:
O nature what hadst thou to do in hell
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend,
In mortall paradise of such sweete flesh?
1735Was euer booke containing such vile matter
So fairely bound? ô that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgious Pallace.
Nur. Theres no trust, no faith, no honestie in men,
All periurde, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers.
1740Ah wheres my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae:
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old,
Shame come to Romeo.
Iu. Blisterd be thy tongue
For such a wish, he was not borne to shame:
1745Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit:
For tis a throane where honour may be crownd
Sole Monarch of the vniuersal earth.
O what a beast was I to chide at him?
Nur. Wil you speak wel of him that kild your cozin?
Iu. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband?
Ah poor my lord, what tongue shal smooth thy name,
When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it?
But wherefore villaine didst thou kill my Cozin?
1755That villaine Cozin would haue kild my husband:
Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring,
Your tributarie drops belong to woe,
Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy,
My husband liues that Tybalt would haue slaine,
1760And Tybalts dead that would haue slain my husband:
All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then?
Some word there was, worser then Tybalts death
That murdred me, I would forget it faine,
But oh it presses to my memorie,
1765Like damned guiltie deeds to sinners mindes,
Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished:
That banished, that one word banished,
Hath slaine ten thousand Tybalts: Tybalts death
Was woe inough if it had ended there:
1770Or if sower woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be ranckt with other griefes,
Why followed not when she said Tybalts dead,
Thy father or thy mother, nay or both,
Which moderne lamentation might haue moued,
1775But with a reareward following Tybalts death,
Romeo is banished: to speake that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet,
All slaine, all dead: Romeo is banished,
There is no end, no limit, measure bound,
1780In that words death, no words can that woe sound.
Where is my father and my mother Nurse?
Nur. Weeping and wayling ouer Tybalts course,
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Iu. Wash they his wounds with teares? mine shall be
1785When theirs are drie, for Romeos banishment.
Take vp those cordes, poore ropes you are beguilde,
Both you and I for Romeo is exilde:
He made you for a highway to my bed,
But I a maide, die maiden widowed.
1790Come cordes, come Nurse, ile to my wedding bed,
And death not Romeo, take my maiden head.
Nur. Hie to your chamber, Ile finde Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is:
Harke ye, your Romeo will be here at night,
1795Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell.
Iu. O find him, giue this ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come, to take his last farewell.
Exit.