« AnteriorContinuar »
Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbeywall: Within this hour my man shall be with thee, And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell!—Be trusty, and I’ll 'quite thy pains. Farewell!—Commend me to thy mistress. Nurse. Now, God in heaven bless thee!—Hark you, sir. Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse? Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, Two may keep counsel, putting one away ? Rom. I warrant thee; my man's true as steel. Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady–Lord, lord '—when 'twas a little prating thing, —O!—There's a nobleman in town, one
Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter 7 Rom. Ay, nurse; What of that ? both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R. is for thee? no: I know it begins with some other letter; and she has the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. Rom. Commend me to thy lady. Nurse. Ay, a thousand times.—Peter' Pet. Anon? Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before. [Ereunt.
Scene V.-CAPULET's Garden.
Jul. The clock struck nine, when l did send the nurse ; In half an hour she promis'd to return. Perchance, she cannot meet him :—that's not so.O! she is lame love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over lowering hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, yet she is not come. Had she affections, and warm youthful blood, She'd be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me: 8 2
Nurse. Jesu, what haste' awhile ! Do you not see, that I am out of breath ! Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath To say to me—that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance. Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the
can you not stay
flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gen
tle as a lamb.-Gothy ways, wench: serve God.—
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
Here comes the lady.—O! so light a foot
Rom. Ah, Juliet' if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness, that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.
Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make
short work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Ereunt.
Scen E. I.-A Public Place.
Enter MERcutio, BEN volio, Page, and Serrants.
Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And if we meet we shall not 'scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, “God send me no need of thee!” and, by the operation of the second cup, draws him on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need. Ben. Am I like such a fellow ! Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood, as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. Ben. And what to ? Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason, but because thou hast hazel eyes: what eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel ! Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter 1 with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art,
any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for
an hour and a quarter.
Enter Ty BALT, and others.
Mer. By my heel, I care not. Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.— Gentlemen, good den! a word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you will give me occasion. Mer, Could you not take some occasion without giving ! Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo.— Mer. Consort' what! dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. "Zounds, consort' Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze: I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; Your worship, in that sense, may call him—man.
Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford No better term than this—thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting:—villain am I none; Therefore farewell: I see, thou know'st me not. Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore, turn and draw. Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee; But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: And so, good Capulet, which name I tender As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission 1 A la stoccata carries it away. [Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk 1 Tyb. What would'st thou have with me? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio; Beat down their weapons:—gentlemen, for shame Forbear this outrage"—Tybalt—Mercutio— The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying In Verona streets.-Hold, Tybalt!—good Mercutio! [Ereunt TYBALT and his Partisans.
Mer. I am hurt;—
Ben. What ' art thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry, 'tis
enough.Where is my page 1—go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Erit Page.
Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world:— a plague o' both your houses!—"Zounds! a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death ! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic —Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
Rom. I thought all for the best.
Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint.—A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, and soundly too:—your houses!
[Ereunt MERcurio and BEN volio.
Ron. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
Re-enter BEN volio. Ben. O Romeo, Romeo! brave Mercutio's dead; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black sate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
Re-enter Ty BALt. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This shall determine that. [They fight; Tybalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away! begone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain:— Stand not amaz'd:—the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken.—Hence —be gone!—away! Rom. O ! I am fortune's fool. Ben. Why dost thou stay ? [Erit Romeo. Enter Citizens, &c. 1 Cit. Which way ran he, that killed Mercutio ! Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he Ben. There lies that Tybalt. 1 Cit. Up, sir:—go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.
Enter Prince, attended: Mont AGUE, CAPULET,
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
ScFNE II.-A Room in CAPULET's House.
Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a waggoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately.— Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! That, unawares, eyes may wink, and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen — Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or if love be blind, It best agrees with night.—Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Qome night, come Romeo, come thou day in night: For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.— Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,