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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
  • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)

    The Tragedie of Romeo and Iuliet.

    She is too faire, too wisewi : sely too faire,
    230To merit blisse by making me dispaire:
    She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow
    Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now.
    Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her.
    Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke.
    235Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes,
    Examine other beauties,
    Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more,
    These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes,
    Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire:
    240He that is strooken blind, cannot forget
    The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost:
    Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire,
    What doth her beauty serue but as a note,
    Where I may read who past that passing faire.
    245Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget,
    Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt
    Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.
    Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I,
    In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke,
    250For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace.
    Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both,
    And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long:
    But now my Lord, what say you to my sute?
    Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before,
    255My Child is yet a stranger in the world,
    Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares,
    Let two more Summers wither in their pride,
    Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride.
    Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made.
    260Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made:
    Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,
    Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth:
    But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,
    My will to her consent, is but a part,
    265And shee agree, within her scope of choise,
    Lyes my consent, and faire according voice:
    This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast,
    Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest,
    Such as I loue, and you among the store,
    270One more, most welcome makes my number more:
    At my poore house, looke to behold this night,
    Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light,
    Such comfort as do lusty young men feele,
    When well apparrel'd Aprill on the heele
    275Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight
    Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night
    Inherit at my house: heare all, all see:
    And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
    Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one,
    280May stand in number, though in reckning none.
    Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about,
    Through faire Verona, find those persons out,
    Whose names are written there, and to them say,
    My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay. Exit.
    285Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it
    is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his
    Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his
    Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to
    find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find
    290what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to
    the learned) in good time.
    Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.
    Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning,
    One paine is lesned by anothers anguish:
    295Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning:
    One desparate greefe, cures with anothers lauguish:
    Take thou some new infection to the eye,
    And the rank poyson of the old wil die.
    Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that.
    300Ben. For what I pray thee?
    Rom. For your broken shin.
    Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?
    Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is:
    Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode,
    305Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow,
    Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read?
    Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie.
    Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke:
    But I pray can you read any thing you see?
    310Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language.
    Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry.
    Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.
    He reades the Letter.
    SEigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County An-
    315selme and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtru-
    uio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and
    his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daugh-
    ters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his
    Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena.
    320A faire assembly, whither should they come?
    Ser. Vp.
    Rom. Whither? to supper?
    Ser. To our house.
    Rom. Whose house?
    325Ser. My Maisters.
    Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before.
    Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is
    the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of
    Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest
    330you merry. Exit.
    Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets
    Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues:
    With all the admired Beauties of Verona,
    Go thither and with vnattainted eye,
    335Compare her face with some that I shall show,
    And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow.
    Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye
    Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire:
    And these who often drown'd could neuer die,
    340Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers.
    One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun
    Nere saw her match, since first the world begun.
    Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by,
    Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye:
    345But in that Christall scales, let there be waid,
    Your Ladies loue against some other Maid
    That I will show you, shining at this Feast,
    And she shew scant shell, well, that now shewes best.
    Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne,
    350But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne.
    Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.
    Wife Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me.
    Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old
    I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid,
    355Where's this Girle? what Iuliet?
    Enter Iuliet.
    Iuliet. How now, who calls?
    Nur. Your Mother.
    Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will?
    360Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue leaue awhile, we