Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Help on texts
About this text
Print this page

About this text

  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 2, 1599)
  • 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
    Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 2, 1599)

    Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.
    Iu. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neare day:
    It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
    2035That pierst 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 iocand day
    Stands tipto on the mystie Mountaine tops,
    I must be gone and liue, or stay and die.
    Iu. Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:
    2045It is some Meteor that the Sun exhale,
    To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,
    And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
    Therefore stay yet, thou needst not to be gone.
    Ro. 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 the mornings eye,
    Tis
    of Romeo and Iuliet.
    Tis but the pale reflex of Cinthias brow.
    Nor that is not the Larke whose noates do beate
    The vaultie 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.
    Iu. 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 changd voyces too:
    2065Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
    Hunting thee hence, with Huntsup to the day.
    O now be gone, more light and light it growes.
    Romeo. More light and light, more darke and darke our
    woes.
    Enter Madame and Nurse.
    2070Nur. Madam.
    Iu. Nurse.
    Nur. Your Lady Mother is cūming to your chāber,
    The day is broke, be wary, looke about.
    Iuli. Then window let day in, and let life out.
    2075Ro. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend.
    Iu. 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 opportunitie,
    That may conuey my greetings loue to thee.
    Iu. O thinkst thou we shall euer meete againe?
    2085Rom. I doubt it not, and allthese woes shall serue
    For sweete discourses in our times to come.
    H 3 Iu. O
    The most lamentable Tragedie
    Ro. 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 lookest pale.
    Rom. And trust me loue, in my eye so do you:
    Drie sorrow drinkes our bloud. Adue, adue.
    Exit.
    Iu. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,
    If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
    2095That is renowmd for faith? be fickle Fortune:
    For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,
    But send him backe.
    Enter Mother.
    La. Ho daughter, are you vp?
    2100Iu. Who ist that calls? It is my Lady mother.
    Is she not downe so late or vp so early?
    What vnaccustomd cause procures her hither?
    La. Why how now Iuliet?
    Iu. Madam I am not well.
    2105La. Euermore weeping for your Cozens death?
    What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
    And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him liue:
    Therfore haue done, some griefe shews much of loue,
    But much of greefe, shewes still some want of wit.
    2110Iu. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse.
    La. So shall you feele the losse, but not the friend
    Which you weepe for.
    Iu. Feeling so the losse,
    I cannot chuse but euer weepe the friend.
    2115 La. Wel gyrle, thou weepst not so much for his death,
    As that the villaine liues which slaughterd him.
    Iu. What villaine Madam?
    La. That same villaine Romeo.
    Iu. Villaine and he be many miles a sunder:
    2120God padon, I do with all my heart:
    And yet no man like he, doth greeue my heart.
    La. That
    of Romeo and Iuliet.
    La. That is because the Traytor murderer liues.
    Iu. I Madam from the reach of these my hands:
    Would none but I might venge my Cozens death.
    2125 La. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not.
    Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in Mantua,
    Where that same bannisht runnagate doth liue,
    Shall giue him such an vnaccustomd dram,
    That he shall soone keepe Tybalt companie:
    2130And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.
    Iu. 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 namde and cannot come to him,
    To wreake the loue I bore my Cozen,
    2140Vpon his body that hath slaughterd him.
    Mo. Find thou the means, and Ile find such a man,
    But now ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.
    Iu. And ioy comes well in such a needie time,
    What are they, beseech your Ladyship?
    2145M. Well, well, thou hast a carefull father child,
    One who to put thee from thy heauines,
    Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy,
    That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for.
    Iu. Madam in happie time, what day is that?
    2150 M. Marrie my child, early next Thursday morne,
    The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman,
    The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,
    Shall happily make thee there a ioyfull Bride.
    Iu. Now by S. Peters Church, and Peter too,
    2155He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride.
    I wonder at this haste, that I must wed
    Ere he that should be husband comes to wooe:
    I pray
    The most lamentable Tragedie
    I pray you tell my Lord and father Madam,
    I will not marrie yet, and when I do, I sweare
    2160It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate
    Rather then Paris, these are newes indeed.
    M. Here comes your father, tell him so your selfe:
    And see how he will take it at your hands.
    Enter Capulet and Nurse.
    2165Ca. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drisle deaw,
    But for the Sunset of my brothers sonne,
    It rains downright. How now a Conduit girle, what still in tears
    Euermore showring in one litle body?
    2170Thou countefaits. A Barke, a Sea, a Wind:
    For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
    Do ebbe and flowe with teares, the Barke thy body is:
    Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes,
    Who raging with thy teares and they with them,
    2175Without a sudden calme will ouerset
    Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife,
    Haue you deliuered to her our decree?
    La. I sir, but she will none, she giues you thankes,
    2180I would the foole were married to her graue.
    Ca. 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 Bride?
    Iu. Not proud you haue, but thankful that you haue:
    Proud can I neuer be of what I hate,
    But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant loue.
    2190 Ca. How, how, how how, chopt lodgick, what is this?
    Proud and I thanke you, and I thanke you not,
    And yet not proud mistresse minion you?
    Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
    But fettle your fine Ioynts gainst Thursday next,
    2195To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
    Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
    You
    of Romeo and Iuliet.
    Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage,
    You tallow face.
    La. Fie, fie, what are you mad?
    2200Iu. 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, replie not, do not answere me.
    My fingers itch, wife, we scarce thought vs blest
    That God had lent vs but this onely childe,
    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 to blame my Lord to rate her so.
    Fa. And why my Lady wisdome, hold your tongue,
    Good Prudence smatter, with your gossips go.
    2215Nur. I speake no treason,
    Father, ô Godigeden,
    May not one speake?
    Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,
    Vtter your grauitie ore a Goships bowle,
    2220For here we need it not.
    Wi. You are too hot.
    Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad,
    Day, night, houre, tide, time, worke, play,
    Alone in companie, still my care hath bene
    2225To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
    A Gentleman of noble parentage,
    Of faire demeanes, youthfull and nobly liand,
    Stuft as they say, with honourable parts,
    Proportiond as ones thought would wish a man,
    2230And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
    A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender,
    To answere, ile not wed, I cannot loue:
    I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
    I But
    The most lamentable Tragedie
    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 neare, lay hand on hart, aduise,
    And you be mine, ile giue you to my friend,
    And you be not, hang, beg, starue, dye 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.
    Iu. Is there no pittie sitting in the cloudes
    That sees into the bottome of my greefe?
    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 Tibalt lies.
    Mo. Talke not to me, for ile not speake a word,
    2250Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.
    Exit.
    Iu. O God, ô 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:
    Alack, alack, that heauen should practise stratagems
    Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe.
    What sayst 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 back 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 hees a louely Gentleman:
    Romios a dishclout to him, an Eagle Madam
    Hath not so greene, so quick, so faire an eye
    2270As Paris hath, beshrow my very hart,
    I
    of Romeo and Iuliet.
    I thinke you are happie 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.
    2275Iu. Speakst thou from thy heart?
    Nur. And from my soule too, else beshrew them both.
    Iu. Amen.
    Nur. What?
    2280Iu. Well thou hast comforted me maruellous much,
    Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
    Hauing displeas'd my father, to Laurence Cell,
    To make confession, and to be obsolu'd.
    Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.
    2285Iu. Auncient damnation, ô most wicked fiend,
    Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
    Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue,
    Which she hath praisde him with aboue compare,
    So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
    2290Thou and my bosome henceforth shall be twaine:
    Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
    If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.
    Exit.
    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