Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Through Line Number
Help on texts
About this text
Print this page

About this text

  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    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,
    Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree,
    Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale.
    Rom. It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne:
    No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes
    2040Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East:
    Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day
    Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops,
    I must be gone and liue, or stay and die.
    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.
    Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
    Rom. Let me be tane, let me be put to death,
    2050I am content, so thou wilt haue it so.
    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.
    How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day.
    Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone 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 she diuideth vs.
    Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
    O now I would they had chang'd voyces too:
    Since
    The Tragedie of Romeo and Iuliet.69
    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.
    Iul. Nurse.
    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.
    2075Rom. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend.
    Iul. Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend,
    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.
    Iul. O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?
    2085Rom. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue
    For sweet discourses in our time to come.
    Iuilet. O God! I haue an ill Diuining soule,
    Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe,
    As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe,
    2090Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale.
    Rom. And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you:
    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?
    2100Iul: Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother.
    Is she not downe so late, or vp so early?
    What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
    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?
    And if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue:
    Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue,
    But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit.
    2110Iul. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse.
    Lad. So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend
    Which you weepe for.
    Iul. Feeling so the losse,
    I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend.
    2115La. Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
    As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him.
    Iul. What Villaine, Madam?
    Lad. That same Villaine Romeo.
    Iul. Villaine and he, be many Miles assunder:
    2120God pardon, I doe with all my heart:
    And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart.
    Lad. That is because the Traitor liues.
    Iul. I Madam from the reach of these my hands:
    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,
    Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue,
    Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram,
    That he shall soone keepe Tybalt company:
    2130And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.
    Iul. Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied
    With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead
    Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext:
    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.
    Mo. Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man.
    But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.
    Iul. And ioy comes well, in such a needy time,
    What are they, beseech your Ladyship?
    2145Mo. Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child?
    One who to put thee from thy heauinesse,
    Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy,
    That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for.
    Iul. Madam in happy time, what day is this?
    2150Mo. Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne,
    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.
    I wonder at this hast, that I must wed
    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.
    Mo. Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe,
    And see how he will take it at your hands.
    Enter Capulet and Nurse.
    2165Cap. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle daew
    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
    Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes,
    Who raging with the teares and they with them,
    2175Without a sudden calme will ouer set
    Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife?
    Haue you deliuered to her our decree?
    Lady. I sir;
    But she will none, she giues you thankes,
    2180I would the foole were married to her graue.
    Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife,
    How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks?
    Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
    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,
    But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next,
    To
    70 The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.
    2195To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
    Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither.
    Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage,
    You tallow face.
    Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad?
    2200Iul. Good Father, I beseech you on my knees
    Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.
    Fa. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch,
    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.
    My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest,
    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.
    Nur. God in heauen blesse her,
    You are too blame my Lord to rate her so.
    Fa. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue,
    Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go.
    2215Nur. I speake no treason,
    Father, O Godigoden,
    May not one speake?
    Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,
    Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles
    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.
    2235Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:
    Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest.
    Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,
    And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
    And you be not, hang, beg, straue, die in the streets,
    2240For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee,
    Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:
    Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne Exit.
    Iuli. Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes,
    That sees into the bottome of my griefe?
    2245O sweet my Mother cast me not away,
    Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,
    Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed
    In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies.
    Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word,
    2250Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee. Exit.
    Iul. O God!
    O Nurse, how shall this be preuented?
    My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen,
    How shall that faith returne againe to earth,
    2255Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen,
    By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me:
    Hlacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems
    Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe.
    What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy?
    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:
    Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
    2265Then since the case so stands as now it doth,
    I thinke it best you married with the Countie,
    O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
    Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam
    Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye
    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.
    2275Iul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
    Nur. And from my soule too,
    Or else beshrew them both.
    Iul. Amen.
    Nur. What?
    2280Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much,
    Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
    Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell,
    To make confession, and to be absolu'd.
    Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.
    2285Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend!
    It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
    Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
    Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare,
    So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
    2290Thou and my bosome henchforth shall be twaine:
    Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
    If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die. Exeunt.
    About
    Contact us
    Content quality
    Site guide
    © Internet Shakespeare Editions
    Copyright details
    Privacy policy
    This site is supported by:
    University of Victoria
    Friends of the ISE
    SSHRC