Masters of the Theatre
Page 28
Cap. What, man! ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much: 30
’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask’d.
Sec. Cap. ’Tis more, ’tis more; his son is elder, sir.
His son is thirty. 35
Cap. Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago.
Rom. What lady is that which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
Serv. I know not, sir. 40
Rom. O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 45
As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night. 50
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
Fetch me my rapier, boy. What! dares the slave
Come hither, cover’d with an antick face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, 55
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Cap. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night. 60
Cap. Young Romeo, is it?
Tyb. ’Tis he, that villain Romeo.
Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone:
He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him 65
To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth.
I would not for the wealth of all this town
Here in my house do him disparagement;
Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
It is my will; the which if thou respect, 70
Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
I’ll not endure him.
Cap. He shall be endur’d: 75
What! goodman boy; I say, he shall, go to;
Am I the master here, or you? go to.
You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
You’ll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop! you’ll be the man! 80
Tyb. Why, uncle, ’tis a shame.
Cap. Go to, go to;
You are a saucy boy — is ‘t so indeed? —
This trick may chance to scathe you. — I know what:
You must contrary me! marry, ’tis time. 85
Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
Be quiet, or — More light, more light! — For shame!
I’ll make you quiet. What! cheerly, my hearts!
Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. 90
I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. [Exit.
Rom. [To JULIET.] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this;
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 95
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. 100
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom. O! then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake. 105
Rom. Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg’d. [Kissing her.
Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d!
Give me my sin again. 110
Jul. You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse. Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house, 115
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:
I nurs’d her daughter, that you talk’d withal;
I tell you he that can lay hold of her
Shall have the chinks.
Rom. Is she a Capulet? 120
O dear account! my life is my foe’s debt.
Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. 125
Is it e’en so? Why then, I thank you all;
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good-night.
More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed.
Ah! sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late;
I’ll to my rest. [Exeunt all except JULIET and Nurse. 130
Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What’s he that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
Jul. What’s he, that follows there, that would not dance? 135
Nurse. I know not.
Jul. Go, ask his name. — If he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
The only son of your great enemy. 140
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse. What’s this, what’s this? 145
Jul. A rime I learn’d even now
Of one I danc’d withal. [One calls within, ‘JULIET!’
Nurse. Anon, anon! —
Come, let’s away; the strangers are all gone. [Exeunt.
Act II. Prologue.
Enter Chorus.
Chor. Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir;
That fair for which love groan’d for and would die,
With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair. 5
Now Romeo is belov’d and loves again,
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks,
But to his foe suppos’d he must complain,
And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks:
Being held a foe, he may not have access 10
To breathe such vows as lovers us’d to swear;
And she as much in love, her means much less
To meet her new-beloved any where:
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,
Tempering extremity with extreme sweet. [Exit. 15
Act II. Scene I.
Verona. A Lane by the wall of CAPULET’S Orchard.
Enter ROMEO.
Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it.
Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. 5
Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
Mer. He is wise;
And, on my life, hath stol’n him home to bed.
Ben. He ran this
way, and leap’d this orchard wall:
Call, good Mercutio. 10
Mer. Nay, I’ll conjure too.
Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:
Speak but one rime and I am satisfied;
Cry but ‘Ay me!’ couple but ‘love’ and ‘dove;’ 15
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word.
One nickname for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim
When King Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid.
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; 20
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, 25
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
Mer. This cannot anger him: ’twould anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand 30
Till she had laid it, and conjur’d it down;
That were some spite: my invocation
Is fair and honest, and in his mistress’ name
I conjure only but to raise up him.
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, 35
To be consorted with the humorous night:
Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit 40
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
O Romeo! that she were, O! that she were
An open et cœtera, thou a poperin pear.
Romeo, good night: I’ll to my truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: 45
Come, shall we go?
Ben. Go, then; for ’tis in vain
To seek him here that means not to be found. [Exeunt.
Act II. Scene II.
The Same. CAPULET’S Orchard.
Enter ROMEO.
Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. [JULIET appears above at a window.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! 5
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 10
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady; O! it is my love:
O! that she knew she were.
She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it. 15
I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head? 20
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand: 25
O! that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
Jul. Ay me!
Rom. She speaks:
O! speak again, bright angel; for thou art 30
As glorious to this night, being o’er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wond’ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 35
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet. 40
Rom. [Aside.] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Jul. ’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 45
Belonging to a man. O! be some other name:
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes 50
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.
Rom. I take thee at thy word.
Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d; 55
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Jul. What man art thou, that, thus be-screen’d in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
Rom. By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am: 60
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee:
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue’s uttering, yet I know the sound: 65
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Rom. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
Jul. How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art, 70
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
Rom. With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. 75
Jul. If they do see thee they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.
Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. 80
Rom. I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes;
And but thou love me, let them find me here;
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whose direction found’st thou out this place? 85
Rom. By Love, that first did prompt me to inquire;
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash’d with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise. 90
Jul. Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! 95
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ‘Ay;’
And I will take thy word; yet, if thou swear’st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers’ perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo!
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: 100
Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,
I’ll frown and be perverse and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And therefore t
hou mayst think my haviour light: 105
But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard’st, ere I was ‘ware,
My true love’s passion: therefore pardon me, 110
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, —
Jul. O! swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, 115
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?
Jul. Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 120
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I’ll believe thee.
Rom. If my heart’s dear love —
Jul. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night: 125
It is too rash, too unadvis’d, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good-night!
This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 130
Good-night, good-night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
Rom. O! wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
Rom. The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine. 135
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have: 140
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite. [Nurse calls within.
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. 145
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit above.
Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Re-enter JULIET, above. 150
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and goodnight indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
By one that I’ll procure to come to thee,
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; 155