Complete Plays, The
Page 13
And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay
And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
Nurse
[Within] Madam!
Juliet
I come, anon.— But if thou mean’st not well,
I do beseech thee —
Nurse
[Within] Madam!
Juliet
By and by, I come:—
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.
Romeo
So thrive my soul —
Juliet
A thousand times good night!
Exit, above
Romeo
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
Retiring
Re-enter Juliet, above
Juliet
Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer’s voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo’s name.
Romeo
It is my soul that calls upon my name:
How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!
Juliet
Romeo!
Romeo
My dear?
Juliet
At what o’clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?
Romeo
At the hour of nine.
Juliet
I will not fail: ’tis twenty years till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Romeo
Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Juliet
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.
Romeo
And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.
Juliet
’Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than a wanton’s bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Romeo
I would I were thy bird.
Juliet
Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Exit above
Romeo
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father’s cell,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.
Exit
SCENE III. FRIAR LAURENCE’S CELL.
Enter Friar Laurence, with a basket
Friar Laurence
The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day’s path and Titan’s fiery wheels:
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer and night’s dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth that’s nature’s mother is her tomb;
What is her burying grave that is her womb,
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find,
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give,
Nor aught so good but strain’d from that fair use
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence and medicine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter Romeo
Romeo
Good morrow, father.
Friar Laurence
Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper’d head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Romeo
That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
Friar Laurence
God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Romeo
With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name’s woe.
Friar Laurence
That’s my good son: but where hast thou been, then?
Romeo
I’ll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
That’s by me wounded: both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies:
I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Friar Laurence
Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Romeo
Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combined, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when and where and how
We met, we woo’d and made exchange of vow,
I’ll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.
Friar Laurence
Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men’s love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash’d thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash’d off yet:
If e’er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,
/> Women may fall, when there’s no strength in men.
Romeo
Thou chid’st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Friar Laurence
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Romeo
And bad’st me bury love.
Friar Laurence
Not in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.
Romeo
I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.
Friar Laurence
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
In one respect I’ll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households’ rancour to pure love.
Romeo
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Friar Laurence
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. A STREET.
Enter Benvolio and Mercutio
Mercutio
Where the devil should this Romeo be?
Came he not home to-night?
Benvolio
Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man.
Mercutio
Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Benvolio
Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father’s house.
Mercutio
A challenge, on my life.
Benvolio
Romeo will answer it.
Mercutio
Any man that can write may answer a letter.
Benvolio
Nay, he will answer the letter’s master, how he dares, being dared.
Mercutio
Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench’s black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy’s butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Benvolio
Why, what is Tybalt?
Mercutio
More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai!
Benvolio
The what?
Mercutio
The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! ‘By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!’ Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi’s, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones!
Enter Romeo
Benvolio
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
Mercutio
Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there’s a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Romeo
Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
Mercutio
The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?
Romeo
Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
Mercutio
That’s as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
Romeo
Meaning, to court’sy.
Mercutio
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Romeo
A most courteous exposition.
Mercutio
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Romeo
Pink for flower.
Mercutio
Right.
Romeo
Why, then is my pump well flowered.
Mercutio
Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.
Romeo
O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness.
Mercutio
Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.
Romeo
Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I’ll cry a match.
Mercutio
Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the goose?
Romeo
Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast not there for the goose.
Mercutio
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Romeo
Nay, good goose, bite not.
Mercutio
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.
Romeo
And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?
Mercutio
O here’s a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!
Romeo
I stretch it out for that word ‘broad;’ which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
Mercutio
Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.
Benvolio
Stop there, stop there.
Mercutio
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
Benvolio
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
Mercutio
O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.
Romeo
Here’s goodly gear!
Enter Nurse and Peter
Mercutio
A sail, a sail!
Benvolio
Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
Nurse
Peter!
Peter
Anon!
Nurse
My fan, Peter.
Mercutio
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan’s the fairer face.
Nurse
God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mercutio
God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse
Is it good den?
Mercutio
’Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
Nurse
Out upon you! what a man are you!
Romeo
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.
Nurse
By my troth, it is well said; ‘for himself to mar,’ quoth a’? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?
Romeo
I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
Nurse
You say well.
Mercutio
Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i’ faith; wisely, wisely.
Nurse
if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
Benvolio
She will indite him to some supper.
Mercutio
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!
Romeo
What hast thou found?
Mercutio
No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
Sings
An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in lent
But a hare that is hoar
Is too much for a score,
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your father’s? we’ll to dinner, thither.
Romeo
I will follow you.
Mercutio
Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,
Singing
‘Lady, lady, lady.’
Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio
Nurse
Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?
Romeo
A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
Nurse
An a’ speak any thing against me, I’ll take him down, an a’ were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I’ll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?
Peter
I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.
Nurse
Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool’s paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
Romeo
Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee —
Nurse
Good heart, and, i’ faith, I will tell her as much:
Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
Romeo
What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
Nurse
I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as
I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Romeo
Bid her devise
Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
And there she shall at Friar Laurence’ cell
Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.
Nurse
No truly sir; not a penny.
Romeo
Go to; I say you shall.