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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    54 The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.

    Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate,
    If euer you disturbe our streets againe,
    Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
    100For this time all the rest depart away:
    You Capulet shall goe along with me,
    And Mountague come you this afternoone,
    To know our Fathers pleasure in this case:
    To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place:
    105Once more on paine of death, all men depart. Exeunt.
    Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach?
    Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began:
    Ben. Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie,
    And yours close fighting ere I did approach,
    110I drew to part them, in the instant came
    The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd,
    Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares,
    He swong about his head, and cut the windes,
    Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne.
    115While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes,
    Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
    Till the Prince came, who parted either part.
    Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day?
    Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
    120Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun
    Peer'd forth the golden window of the East,
    A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad,
    Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour,
    That West-ward rooteth from this City side:
    125So earely walking did I see your Sonne:
    Towards him I made, but he was ware of me,
    And stole into the couert of the wood,
    I measuring his affections by my owne,
    Which then most sought, wher most might not be found:
    130Being one too many by my weary selfe,
    Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his
    And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me.
    Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene,
    With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw,
    135Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes,
    But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne,
    Should in the farthest East begin to draw
    The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed,
    Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne,
    140And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe,
    Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out,
    And makes himselfe an artificiall night:
    Blacke and portendous must this humour proue,
    Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue.
    145Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
    Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him.
    Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
    Moun. Both by my selfe and many others Friends,
    But he his owne affections counseller,
    150Is to himselfe (I will not say how true)
    But to himselfe so secret and so close,
    So farre from sounding and discouery,
    As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,
    Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre,
    155Or dedicate his beauty to the same.
    Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow,
    We would as willingly giue cure, as know.
    Enter Romeo.
    Be n See where he comes, so please you step aside,
    160Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide.
    Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
    To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away. Exeunt.
    Ben. Good morrow Cousin.
    Rom. Is the day so young?
    165Ben. But new strooke nine.
    Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long:
    Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
    Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres?
    Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short
    170Ben. In loue.
    Romeo. Out.
    Ben. Of loue.
    Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.
    Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view,
    175Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe.
    Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still,
    Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his will:
    Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere?
    Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all:
    180Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue:
    Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate,
    O any thing, of nothing first created:
    O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity,
    Mishapen Chaos of welseeing formes,
    185Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health,
    Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is:
    This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this.
    Doest thou not laugh?
    Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe.
    190Rom. Good heart, at what?
    Ben. At thy good hearts oppression.
    Rom. Why such is loues transgression.
    Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast,
    Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast
    195With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne,
    Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne.
    Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes,
    Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes,
    Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares,
    200What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet,
    A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet:
    Farewell my Coze.
    Ben. Soft I will goe along.
    And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong.
    205Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here,
    This is not Romeo, hee's some other where.
    Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue?
    Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee?
    Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who.
    210Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will:
    A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill:
    In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman.
    Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd.
    Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue
    215Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit.
    Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit
    With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit:
    And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd:
    From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd.
    220Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes,
    Nor bid th'incounter of assailing eyes.
    Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold:
    O she is rich in beautie, onely poore,
    That when she dies, with beautie dies her store.
    225Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast?
    Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast?
    For beauty steru'd with her seuerity,
    Cuts beauty off from all posteritie.