Scene I. Mantua. A Street.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo.
If I may trust the flattering
eye of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful
news at hand;
My bosom's lord sits lightly
in his throne;
And all this day an unaccustom'd
spirit
Lifts me above the ground with
cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found
me dead,--
Strange dream, that gives a dead
man leave to think!--
And breath'd such life with kisses
in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself
possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so
rich in joy!
[Enter Balthasar.]
News from Verona!--How now,
Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters
from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father
well?
How fares my Juliet? that I ask
again;
For nothing can be ill if she
be well.
Balthasar.
Then she is well, and nothing
can be ill:
Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,
And her immortal part with angels
lives.
I saw her laid low in her kindred's
vault,
And presently took post to tell
it you:
O, pardon me for bringing these
ill news,
Since you did leave it for my
office, sir.
Romeo.
Is it even so? then I defy you,
stars!--
Thou know'st my lodging: get
me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses. I will
hence to-night.
Balthasar.
I do beseech you, sir, have patience:
Your looks are pale and wild,
and do import
Some misadventure.
Romeo.
Tush, thou art deceiv'd:
Leave me, and do the thing I
bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from
the friar?
Balthasar.
No, my good lord.
Romeo.
No matter: get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be
with thee straight.
[Exit Balthasar.]
Well, Juliet, I will lie with
thee to-night.
Let's see for means;--O mischief,
thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate
men!
I do remember an apothecary,--
And hereabouts he dwells,--which
late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming
brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were
his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to
the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise
hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other
skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about
his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders,
and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old
cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make
up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself
I said,
An if a man did need a poison
now,
Whose sale is present death in
Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would
sell it him.
O, this same thought did but
forerun my need;
And this same needy man must
sell it me.
As I remember, this should be
the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop
is shut.--
What, ho! apothecary!
[Enter Apothecary.]
Apothecary.
Who calls so loud?
Romeo.
Come hither, man.--I see that
thou art poor;
Hold, there is forty ducats:
let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding
gear
As will disperse itself through
all the veins
That the life-weary taker mall
fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd
of breath
As violently as hasty powder
fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's
womb.
Apothecary.
Such mortal drugs I have; but
Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters
them.
Romeo.
Art thou so bare and full of
wretchedness
And fear'st to die? famine is
in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth
in thine eyes,
Contempt and beggary hangs upon
thy back,
The world is not thy friend,
nor the world's law:
The world affords no law to make
thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it
and take this.
Apothecary.
My poverty, but not my will consents.
Romeo.
I pay thy poverty, and not thy
will.
Apothecary.
Put this in any liquid thing
you will,
And drink it off; and, if you
had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch
you straight.
Romeo.
There is thy gold; worse poison
to men's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome
world
Than these poor compounds that
thou mayst not sell:
I sell thee poison; thou hast
sold me none.
Farewell: buy food and get thyself
in flesh.--
Come, cordial and not poison,
go with me
To Juliet's grave; for there
must I use thee.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
[Enter Friar John.]
Friar John.
Holy Franciscan friar! brother,
ho!
[Enter Friar Lawrence.]
Friar Lawrence.
This same should be the voice
of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua: what says
Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give
me his letter.
Friar John.
Going to find a barefoot brother
out,
One of our order, to associate
me,
Here in this city visiting the
sick,
And finding him, the searchers
of the town,
Suspecting that we both were
in a house
Where the infectious pestilence
did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would
not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there
was stay'd.
Friar Lawrence.
Who bare my letter, then, to
Romeo?
Friar John.
I could not send it,--here it
is again,--
Nor get a messenger to bring
it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Friar Lawrence.
Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but
full of charge
Of dear import; and the neglecting
it
May do much danger. Friar John,
go hence;
Get me an iron crow and bring
it straight
Unto my cell.
Friar John.
Brother, I'll go and bring it
thee.
[Exit.]
Friar Lawrence.
Now must I to the monument alone;
Within this three hours will
fair Juliet wake:
She will beshrew me much that
Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till
Romeo come;--
Poor living corse, clos'd in
a dead man's tomb!
[Exit.]
Scene III. A churchyard; in
it a Monument belonging to the
Capulets.
[Enter Paris, and his Page bearing
flowers and a torch.]
Paris.
Give me thy torch, boy: hence,
and stand aloof;--
Yet put it out, for I would not
be seen.
Under yond yew tree lay thee
all along,
Holding thine ear close to the
hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard
tread,--
Being loose, unfirm, with digging
up of graves,--
But thou shalt hear it: whistle
then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something
approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as
I bid thee, go.
Page.
[Aside.] I am almost afraid to
stand alone
Here in the churchyard; yet I
will adventure.
[Retires.]
Paris.
Sweet flower, with flowers thy
bridal bed I strew:
O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones!
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew;
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
The obsequies that I for thee will keep,
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.
[The Page whistles.]
The boy gives warning something
doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this
way to-night,
To cross my obsequies and true
love's rite?
What, with a torch! muffle me,
night, awhile.
[Retires.]
[Enter Romeo
and Balthasar with a torch,
mattock, &c.]
Romeo.
Give me that mattock and the
wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter; early
in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord
and father.
Give me the light; upon thy life
I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest,
stand all aloof
And do not interrupt me in my
course.
Why I descend into this bed of
death
Is partly to behold my lady's
face,
But chiefly to take thence from
her dead finger
A precious ring,--a ring that
I must use
In dear employment: therefore
hence, be gone:--
But if thou, jealous, dost return
to pry
In what I further shall intend
to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint
by joint,
And strew this hungry churchyard
with thy limbs:
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce and more inexorable
far
Than empty tigers or the roaring
sea.
Balthasar.
I will be gone, sir, and not
trouble you.
Romeo.
So shalt thou show me friendship.--Take
thou that:
Live, and be prosperous: and
farewell, good fellow.
Balthasar.
For all this same, I'll hide
me hereabout:
His looks I fear, and his intents
I doubt.
[Retires.]
Romeo.
Thou detestable maw, thou womb
of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel
of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws
to open,
[Breaking open the door of the
monument.]
And, in despite, I'll cram thee
with more food!
Paris.
This is that banish'd haughty
Montague
That murder'd my love's cousin,--with
which grief,
It is supposed, the fair creature
died,--
And here is come to do some villanous
shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend
him.--
[Advances.]
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile
Montague!
Can vengeance be pursu'd further
than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend
thee;
Obey, and go with me; for thou
must die.
Romeo.
I must indeed; and therefore
came I hither.--
Good gentle youth, tempt not
a desperate man;
Fly hence and leave me:--think
upon these gone;
Let them affright thee.--I beseech
thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head
By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better
than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against
myself:
Stay not, be gone;--live, and
hereafter say,
A madman's mercy bid thee run
away.
Paris.
I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon
here.
Romeo.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have
at thee, boy!
[They fight.]
Page.
O lord, they fight! I will go
call the watch.
[Exit.]
Paris.
O, I am slain! [Falls.] If thou
be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
[Dies.]
Romeo.
In faith, I will.--Let me peruse
this face:--
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County
Paris!--
What said my man, when my betossed
soul
Did not attend him as we rode?
I think
He told me Paris should have
married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream
it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk
of Juliet,
To think it was so?--O, give
me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's
book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant
grave;--
A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red
youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her
beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence
full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead
man interr'd.
[Laying Paris in the monument.]
How oft when men are at the
point of death
Have they been merry! which their
keepers call
A lightning before death: O,
how may I
Call this a lightning?--O my
love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey
of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy
beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's
ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in
thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not
advanced there.--
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy
bloody sheet?
O, what more favour can I do
to thee
Than with that hand that cut
thy youth in twain
To sunder his that was thine
enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!--Ah, dear
Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall
I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster
keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that I still will
stay with thee,
And never from this palace of
dim night
Depart again: here, here will
I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids:
O, here
Will I set up my everlasting
rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious
stars
From this world-wearied flesh.--Eyes,
look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace!
and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with
a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing
death!--
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury
guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at
once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick
weary bark!
Here's to my love! [Drinks.]--O
true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick.--Thus with
a kiss I die.
[Dies.]
[Enter, at the other end of
the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence,
with
a lantern, crow, and spade.]
Friar.
Saint Francis be my speed! how
oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at
graves!--Who's there?
Who is it that consorts, so late,
the dead?
Balthasar.
Here's one, a friend, and one
that knows you well.
Friar.
Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good
my friend,
What torch is yond that vainly
lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls?
as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.
Balthasar.
It doth so, holy sir; and there's
my master,
One that you love.
Friar.
Who is it?
Balthasar.
Romeo.
Friar.
How long hath he been there?
Balthasar.
Full half an hour.
Friar.
Go with me to the vault.
Balthasar.
I dare not, sir;
My master knows not but I am
gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with
death
If I did stay to look on his
intents.
Friar.
Stay then; I'll go alone:--fear
comes upon me;
O, much I fear some ill unlucky
thing.
Balthasar.
As I did sleep under this yew
tree here,
I dreamt my master and another
fought,
And that my master slew him.
Friar.
Romeo! [Advances.]
Alack, alack! what blood is this
which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?--
What mean these masterless and
gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place
of peace?
[Enters the monument.]
Romeo! O, pale!--Who else? what,
Paris too?
And steep'd in blood?--Ah, what
an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable
chance!--The lady stirs.
[Juliet wakes and stirs.]
Juliet.
O comfortable friar! where is
my lord?--
I do remember well where I should
be,
And there I am:--where is my
Romeo?
[Noise within.]
Friar.
I hear some noise.--Lady, come
from that nest
Of death, contagion, and unnatural
sleep:
A greater power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents:--come,
come away!
Thy husband in thy bosom there
lies dead;
And Paris too:--come, I'll dispose
of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
Stay not to question, for the
watch is coming.
Come, go, good Juliet [noise
within],--I dare no longer stay.
Juliet.
Go, get thee hence, for I will
not away.--
[Exit Friar Lawrence.]
What's here? a cup, clos'd in
my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his
timeless end:--
O churl! drink all, and left
no friendly drop
To help me after?--I will kiss
thy lips;
Haply some poison yet doth hang
on them,
To make me die with a restorative.
[Kisses him.]
Thy lips are warm!
1 Watch.
[Within.] Lead, boy:--which way?
Juliet.
Yea, noise?--Then I'll be brief.--O
happy dagger!
[Snatching Romeo's dagger.]
This is thy sheath [stabs herself];
there rest, and let me die.
[Falls on Romeo's body and dies.]
[Enter Watch, with the Page
of Paris.]
Page.
This is the place; there, where
the torch doth burn.
1 Watch.
The ground is bloody; search
about the churchyard:
Go, some of you, whoe'er you
find attach.
[Exeunt some of the Watch.]
Pitiful sight! here lies the
county slain;--
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and
newly dead,
Who here hath lain this two days
buried.--
Go, tell the prince;--run to
the Capulets,--
Raise up the Montagues,--some
others search:--
[Exeunt others of the Watch.]
We see the ground whereon these
woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these
piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance
descry.
[Re-enter some of the Watch
with Balthasar.]
2 Watch.
Here's Romeo's man; we found
him in the churchyard.
1 Watch.
Hold him in safety till the prince
come hither.
[Re-enter others of the Watch
with Friar Lawrence.]
3 Watch.
Here is a friar, that trembles,
sighs, and weeps:
We took this mattock and this
spade from him
As he was coming from this churchyard
side.
1 Watch.
A great suspicion: stay the friar
too.
[Enter the Prince and Attendants.]
Prince.
What misadventure is so early
up,
That calls our person from our
morning's rest?
[Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet,
and others.]
Capulet.
What should it be, that they
so shriek abroad?
Lady Capulet.
The people in the street cry
Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris;
and all run,
With open outcry, toward our
monument.
Prince.
What fear is this which startles
in our ears?
1 Watch.
Sovereign, here lies the County
Paris slain;
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead
before,
Warm and new kill'd.
Prince.
Search, seek, and know how this
foul murder comes.
1 Watch.
Here is a friar, and slaughter'd
Romeo's man,
With instruments upon them fit
to open
These dead men's tombs.
Capulet.
O heaven!--O wife, look how our
daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mista'en,--for,
lo, his house
Is empty on the back of Montague,--
And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's
bosom!
Lady Capulet.
O me! this sight of death is
as a bell
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
[Enter Montague and others.]
Prince.
Come, Montague; for thou art
early up,
To see thy son and heir more
early down.
Montague.
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead
to-night;
Grief of my son's exile hath
stopp'd her breath:
What further woe conspires against
mine age?
Prince.
Look, and thou shalt see.
Montague.
O thou untaught! what manners
is in this,
To press before thy father to
a grave?
Prince.
Seal up the mouth of outrage
for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their
head, their true descent;
And then will I be general of
your woes,
And lead you even to death: meantime
forbear,
And let mischance be slave to
patience.--
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Friar.
I am the greatest, able to do
least,
Yet most suspected, as the time
and place
Doth make against me, of this
direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach
and purge
Myself condemned and myself excus'd.
Prince.
Then say at once what thou dost
know in this.
Friar.
I will be brief, for my short
date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious
tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband
to that Juliet;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's
faithful wife:
I married them; and their stol'n
marriage day
Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose
untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom
from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt,
Juliet pin'd.
You, to remove that siege of
grief from her,
Betroth'd, and would have married
her perforce,
To County Paris:--then comes
she to me,
And with wild looks, bid me devise
some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or in my cell there would she
kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutored by
my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took
effect
As I intended, for it wrought
on her
The form of death: meantime I
writ to Romeo
That he should hither come as
this dire night,
To help to take her from her
borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force
should cease.
But he which bore my letter,
Friar John,
Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back. Then
all alone
At the prefixed hour of her waking
Came I to take her from her kindred's
vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at
my cell
Till I conveniently could send
to Romeo:
But when I came,--some minute
ere the time
Of her awaking,--here untimely
lay
The noble Paris and true Romeo
dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her
come forth
And bear this work of heaven
with patience:
But then a noise did scare me
from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would
not go with me,
But, as it seems, did violence
on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: and if ought
in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my
old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before
his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince.
We still have known thee for
a holy man.--
Where's Romeo's man? what can
he say in this?
Balthasar.
I brought my master news of Juliet's
death;
And then in post he came from
Mantua
To this same place, to this same
monument.
This letter he early bid me give
his father;
And threaten'd me with death,
going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him
there.
Prince.
Give me the letter,--I will look
on it.--
Where is the county's page that
rais'd the watch?--
Sirrah, what made your master
in this place?
Boy.
He came with flowers to strew
his lady's grave;
And bid me stand aloof, and so
I did:
Anon comes one with light to
ope the tomb;
And by-and-by my master drew
on him;
And then I ran away to call the
watch.
Prince.
This letter doth make good the
friar's words,
Their course of love, the tidings
of her death:
And here he writes that he did
buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and
lie with Juliet.--
Where be these enemies?--Capulet,--Montague,--
See what a scourge is laid upon
your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill
your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords
too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen:--all
are punish'd.
Capulet.
O brother Montague, give me thy
hand:
This is my daughter's jointure,
for no more
Can I demand.
Montague.
But I can give thee more:
For I will raise her statue in
pure gold;
That while Verona by that name
is known,
There shall no figure at such
rate be set
As that of true and faithful
Juliet.
Capulet.
As rich shall Romeo's by his
lady's lie;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
Prince.
A glooming peace this morning
with it brings;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished;
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
[Exeunt.]
End of Project Gutenberg Etext
of Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare
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