 | Romeo and Juliet |  |
ACT III.
SCENE, the Street.Mercutio, and Benvolio.
Benv.
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.
Merc.
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, Heaven send me
no need of thee; and by the Operation of a second
Cup, draws it on the Drawer; when indeed, there is
no need.
Benv.
Am I like such a Fellow?
Merc.
Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy
Mood, as any in Italy; and as soon mov'd to be
moody; and as soon moody to be mov'd.
Benv.
And what to?
Merc.
Why, thou wilt quarrel with a Man that
has a Hair more or 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:
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Street, because he hath 'wakened thy Dog that hath
lain asleep in the Sun. Did'st thou not fall out with
thy Tailor for wearing his new Doublet before Easter?
With another, for tying his new Shoes with old Ribband?
And yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!
Benv.
If 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.
Merc.
The Fee-simple? O simple!
Enter Tibalt.
Benv.
By my Head here comes a Capulet.
Merc.
By my Heels I care not.
Tib.
Gentlemen, Good-ev'n; a Word with one of
you.
Merc.
And but one Word with one of us? Couple
it with something; make it a Word and a Blow.
Tib.
You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if
you will give me occasion.
Merc.
Cou'd you not take some occasion, without
giving?
Tib.
Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo—
Merc.
Consort! what do'st thou make Minstrels
of us? If thou make Minstrels of us, then look to
hear nothing but Discords: Here's my Fiddle-stick;
here's that will make you dance. Zounds! Consort!
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Benv.
We talk here in the publick Haunt of Men;
Either withdraw into some private Place,
Or reason coldly of your Grievances,
Or else depart: Here all Eyes gaze on us.
Merc.
Men's Eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no Man's Pleasure, I.
Enter Romeo.
Tib.
Well, Peace be with you, Sir; here comes my Man.
Merc.
But I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wears your Livery;
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Your Worship, in that Sense, may call him Man.
Tib.
Romeo, the Hate I bear thee can afford
No better Terms 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, I am none:
Therefore, farewell: I see thou know'st me not.
Tib.
Boy, this shall not excuse the Injuries,
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.
Rom.
(Stopping his Hand)
I do protest, I never injur'd thee,
But love thee better than thou can'st devise,
'Till thou shalt know the Reason of my Love:
And so, good Capulet, (whose Name I tender
As dearly as my own) be satisfied.
[Romeo walks apart.
Merc.
O calm, dishonourable, vile Submission!
Ah! La Stoccata carries it away.
Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walk?
Tib.
What wou'd you have with me?
Merc.
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.
Tib.
I am for you.
[Drawing.
[Romeo returning, interposes.
Rom.
Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier up.
Merc.
Come, Sir, your Passado.
[Merc. and Tib. fight.
Rom.
Hold Tibalt, good Mercutio.
[Tibalt wounds Mercutio under Romeo's Arm, and goes out.
Merc.
I am hurt—
A Plague of both your Houses! I am sped:
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Benv.
What, art thou hurt?
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Aye. aye, a Scratch, a Scratch; marry 'tis
enough: Some one fetch a Surgeon.
Rom.
Courage Man, the Hurt cannot be much.
Merc.
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 pepper'd, I warrant, for this World;
a Plague of both your Houses! what 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 Arithmetick? Why the Devil came you between?
I was hurt under your Arm.
Rom.
I thought all for the best
Merc.
Help me into some House, Benvolio, or I
shall faint; a Plague of both your Houses, they have
made Worms-Meat of me: Curse your Houses.
[Exit. Mer. and Ben.
Rom.
This Gentleman the Prince's near Ally,
My worthy Friend hath got his mortal Hurt
In my behalf; my Reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's Slander; Tybalt, that an Hour
Hath been my Cousin: O sweet Juliet,
Thy Beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my Temper soft'ned Valour's Steel.
Enter Benvolio.
Benv.
O, Romeo! Romeo! brave Mercutio's dead,
That gallant Spirit hath aspir'd the Clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the Earth.
Rom.
More Fates do yet on this black Day depend;
Or this begins the Woe, others must end.
Benv.
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom.
Alive in Triumph? And Mercutio slain?
Away to Heaven respective Lenity,
And Fire-eyed Fury be my Conduct now.
Enter Tybalt.
Tybalt, receive the Villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; brave Mercutio's Soul
Is but a little way above our Heads,
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Or thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Tib.
Thou wretched Boy that did'st consort him here,
Shall with him hence
Rom.
This shall determine that.
[They fight: Tibalt falls.
Benv.
Romeo, away begone,
The Citizens are up, and Tibalt slain—
Stand not amaz'd; the Prince will doom thee dead,
If thou art taken; hence, begone, away.
Rom.
O, I am Fortune's Fool.
[Ex. Romeo.
Enter Prince and Paris, with Attendants.
Prin.
Where are the vile Beginners of this Brawl?
Benv.
Most noble Prince I can discover all
The unlucky Manage of this fatal Fray;
There lies the Man slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy Kinsman brave Mercutio.
Prin.
Benvolio, who began this?
Benv.
Tibalt here slain, whom Romeo's Hand did slay;
Romeo still spoke him fair, bid him bethink
How nice the Quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high Displeasure: All this utter'd
With gentle Breath, calm Look, Knees humbly bow'd,
Could not make Truce with the unruly Spleen
Of Tibalt, deaf to Peace, but that he tilts,
With piercing Steel, at bold Mercutio's Breast,
Who all as hot, turns deadly Point to Point,
And with a martial Scorn, with one Hand beats
Cold Death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tibalt, whose Dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud
Hold Friends, Friends part; and swifter than his Tongue
His agil Arm beats down their fatal Points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose Arm
An envious Thrust from Tibalt hit the Life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tibalt fled:
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Who had but newly entertain'd Revenge,
And to't they go like Lightning; for ere I
Could draw to part them was stout Tibalt slain,
And as he fell did Romeo turn to fly.
Prin.
And for that Offence
Immediately we do exile him hence:
I will be deaf to Pleading and Excuses,
Nor Tears nor Prayers shall purchase our Abuses,
Therefore use none; let Romeo hence, in haste,
When in Verona found, that Hour's his last:
Bear hence this Body, and attend our Will.
Mercy but Murders, pardoning those that Kill.
[Exeunt.
SCENE Capulet's House
Juliet alone.
Jul.
Gallop a-pace ye fiery-footed Steeds,
To Phœbus' Mansion: Such a Charioteer
As Phaeton, wou'd whip you to the West,
And bring in Cloudy Night immediately.
Spread thy close Curtain, Love-performing Night,
To hoodwink jealous Eyes; and Romeo
Leap to these Arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
Give me my Romeo, and when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little Stars,
And he will make the Face of Heaven so fine,
That all the World shall be in love with Night,
And pay no Worship to the gaudy Sun.
O, I have bought the Mansion of a Love,
But not possess'd it. Tedious is this Day
As is the Night, before some Festival,
To an impatient Child that hath new Robes,
And may not wear them. O here comes my Nurse.
Enter Nurse with Cords.
And she brings News; and every Tongue that speaks
But Romeo's Name, speaks heavenly Eloquence:
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The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?
Nurse.
Ay, ay the Cords.
Jul.
Ay me, what News?
Why dost thou wring thy Hands.
Nurse.
Ah well-a-day he's dead, he's dead, he's dead,
We are undone, Lady; we are undone—
Alack the day, he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead.
Jul.
Can Heaven be so envious?
Nurse.
Romeo can; though Heav'n cannot, O Romeo, Romeo!
Who ever wou'd have thought it, Romeo!
Jul.
What Devil art thou, that does torment me thus?
This Torture should be roar'd in dismal Hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? Say then but ay,
And that one Syllable shall poison more
Than the Death-darting Eye of Cockatrice.
Nurse.
I saw the Wound, I saw it with my Eyes;
Heaven save the Mark! here on his manly Breast
A piteous Coarse! a bloody piteous Coarse!
Pale, pale as Ashes, all bedaub'd in Blood;
All in Gore Blood! I swooned at the Sight.
Jul.
O break my Heart, poor Bankrupt, break at once;
To Prison Eyes, ne'er look at Liberty;
Vile Earth to Earth resign; end Motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy Bier.
Nurse.
O Tibalt, Tibalt, the best Friend I had;
O courteous Tibalt, honest Gentleman:
That ever I shou'd live to see thee dead!
Jul.
What Storm is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughter'd? And is Tibalt dead?
My dear lov'd Cousin, and my dearer Lord?
Then let the Trumpet sound the general Doom,
For who is living, if those two are gone?
Nurse.
Tibalt is dead, and Romeo banished!
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.
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O Heaven! did Romeo's Hand shed Tibalt's Blood?
Nurse.
It did, it did; alas the Day, it did.
Jul.
O serpent Heart, hid with a flow'ry Face!
Did ever Dragon keep so fair a Cave?
Beautiful Tyrant-Fiend angelical!
Oh Nature, what had'st thou to do in Hell,
When thou did'st bower the Spirit of a Fiend,
In mortal Paradise of such sweet Flesh?
Was ever Book containing such vile Matter
So fairly bound? O that Deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous Palace!
Nurse.
There's no Trust, no Faith, no Honesty
in Men; all perjur'd. Shame come to Romeo!
Jul.
Blister'd be thy Tongue,
For such a Wish! he was not born to Shame;
Upon his Brow Shame is ashamed to sit:
For 'tis a Throne where Honour may be crown'd.
Sole Monarch of the Universal Earth.
O what a Beast was I to chide him so!
Nurse.
Will you speak well of him that kill'd your Cousin?
Jul.
Shall I speak iil of him that is my Husband?
Ah poor my Lord, what Tongue shall smooth thy Name,
When I, thy three Hour's Wife, have mangled it?
My Husband lives, that Tibalt wou'd have slain;
And Tibalt's dead, that wou'd have kill'd my Husband;
All this is Comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some Word there was still worse than Tibalt's Death,
That murder'd me: I wou'd forget it fain.
But oh! it presses to my Memory,
Like damned guilty Deed to Sinners Minds:
Tibalt is dead, and Romeo banished!
That banished, that one Word banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalt's Death,
Was Woe enough, if it had ended there:
Or if four Woe delights in Fellowship,
And needy will be rank'd with other Griefs,
Why follow'd not, when she said Tibalt's dead,
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Romeo is banished—To speak that Word,
Is Father, Mother, Tibalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead! Romeo is banished!
There is no End, no Limit, Measure, Bound,
In that Word's Death; no Words can sound that Woe.
Where is my Father, and my Mother, Nurse?
Nurse.
Weeping and wailing over Tibalt's Body.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul.
Wash they his Wounds with Tears? mine shall be spent
When their's are dry, for Romeo's Banishment.
Nurse.
Hie to your Chamber, I'll find Romeo,
To Comfort you, I wot well where he is;
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at Night:
I'll to him, he is hid at Laurence's Cell.
Jul.
O find him, give this Ring to my poor Love;
And bid him come to take his last Farewel.
[Exeunt.
SCENE, the Monastery.
Enter Friar Laurence to Romeo.
Fri.
Romeo, come forth, come forth, thou fearful Man;
Affliction is enamour'd of thy Parts,
And thou art wedded to Calamity.
Rom.
Father, what News? What is the Prince's Doom?
What Sorrow craves Acquaintance at my Hand,
That I yet know not?
Fri.
Too familiar
Is my dear Son with such four Company.
I bring thee Tidings of the Prince's Doom.
Rom.
He can but doom me dead, and I'm prepar'd.
Fri.
A gentler Judgment vanish'd from his Lips,
Not Body's Death, but Body's Banishment.
Rom.
Ha! Banishment! be merciful say Death;
For Exile hath more Terror in his Looks,
Than Death itself: Do not say Banishment.
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Here from Verona art thou banish'd:—
Be patient, for the World is broad and wide.
Rom.
There is no World without Verona's Walls
But Purgatory, Torture, Hell itself!
Thou cut'st my Head off with a golden Axe,
And smilest upon the Stroke that murders me
Fri.
O deadly Sin! O rude Unthankfulness!
Thy Fault our Law calls Death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy Part hath push'd aside the Law,
And turn'd that black word Death to Banishment:
This is meer Mercy, and thou see'st it not.
Rom.
'Tis Torture and not Mercy: Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, every unworthy Thing
Lives here in Heaven, but by looking on her,
But Romeo may not; more Validity,
More honourable State, more Happiness
Have Carrion Flies, than Romeo; they may seize
On the white Wonder of dear Juliet's Hand,
And steal immortal Blessings from her Lips,
Which banish'd Romeo cannot.
O Father had'st thou no strong Poison mixt,
No Dagger, nor no present Means of Death,
But Banishment to torture me withal?
Friar, the Damned use that Word in Hell;
Howlings attend it: How hast thou the Heart,
Being a Divine, a ghostly Confessor
A Sin-Absolver, and my Friend profest,
To mangle me with that Word Banishment?
Fri.
Fond Man, hear me but speak.
Rom.
O! thou wilt speak again of Banishment!
Death's more desirable than living Torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself:
And Juliet is myself, my Life, my Soul.
Unless I be by Juliet in the Night,
There is no Musick in the Nightingale;
Unless I be by Juliet in the Day,
The Day grows hateful as the blackest Night:
She is my Essence, and I cease to be,
If not by her fair Influence kept alive.
Fri.
Yet hear what I wou'd say of thy Estate.
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Thou can'st not speak of what thou dost not feel.
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy Love,
Scarce three Hours married, Tibalt murder'd,
Doating like me, and like me banish'd;
Then might'st thou speak: Then might'st thou tear thy Hair,
And fall upon the Ground, as I do now.
[Throws himself on the Ground.
Fri.
Arise, one Knocks; good Romeo hide thyself,
Thou wilt be taken—Stay a while—stand up.
Run to my Study—By and by—What Wilfulness!
I come; who knocks so hard? What is your Will?
Nurse.
within.]
Let me come in, and you shall know my Errand:
I come from Lady Juliet.
Fri.
Welcome, then.
Enter Nurse.
Nurse.
O, holy Friar, where is my Lady's Lord?
Where's Romeo?
Fri.
There, on the Ground, with his own Tears made drunk.
Nurse.
O! he's even in my Mistress's Case:
Just in her Case: O, woeful Sympathy!
Rom.
Nurse.
Nurse.
Ah, Sir! Death's the End of all.
Rom.
Speak'st thou of Juliet? How is it with her?
Doth she not think me a dire Murderer?
How I have stain'd the Childhood of our Joy,
With Blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? How does she? And what says she?
Nurse.
Oh! she says nothing, Sir! but weeps, and weeps;
And now falls on her Bed, and then starts up,
And Tibalt cries; and then on Romeo calls,
And then, down falls again.
Rom.
As if that Name,
Shot from the deadly Level of a Gun,
Did murder her, as this accursed Hand
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In what vile Part of this Anatomy,
Doth my Name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack
The hateful Mansion—
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Fri.
Hold thy desperate Hand:
Art thou a Man? Thy Form cries out thou art;
Thy Tears are Womanish; thy wild Acts do note
The unreasonable Fury of a Beast.
Go, get thee to thy Love, as was decreed;
Ascend her Chamber, hence, and comfort her:
But, look thou stay not till the Watch be set,
For then thou can'st not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live till we can find a Time
To blaze your Marriage, reconcile your Friends,
Beg Pardon of the Prince, and call thee back,
With twenty hundred thousand times more Joy,
Than thou went'st forth in Lamentation.
Go before, Nurse; commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her hasten all the House to Bed,
Which heavy Sorrow-makes them apt unto.
Romeo is coming.
Nurse.
O Lord I could have staid here all Night
long, to hear good Counsel: Oh! what Learning is?
My Lord, I'll tell my Lady you will come.
Rom.
Do so; and bid my Sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse.
Here is a Ring she bid me give you, Sir:
—Hie you; make haste; for it grows very late.
[Exit Nurse.
Rom.
How much my Comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri.
Sojourn in Mantua: I'll find your Page,
And he shall signify, from time to time,
Every good Hap to you that chances here:
Give me thy Hand, 'tis late; farewell, Good-night.—
Rom.
I am summon'd by the Mistress of my Heart,
Or 'twere a Grief so soon from thee to part.
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Capulet and Paris.
Cap.
Things have fallen out, Sir, most unluckily;
Juliet did love her Kinsman Tibalt dearly,
And so did I:—Well, we were born to die.
'Tis very late; she'll not come down To-night.
Paris.
These Times of Woe afford no time to woo.
My Lord, Good-night: Commend me to your Daughter.
Cap.
Sir Paris, we will make a desperate Tender
of my Child's Love; I think she will be rul'd in all
Respects, by me; nay, more, I doubt it not. But
soft, what Day is this?
Paris.
Monday, my Lord.
Cap.
Monday; ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too soon:
On Thursday let it be; you shall be married:
Well, keep no great a-do—a Friend, or two—
For hark you, Tibalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our Kinsman, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen Friends,
And there's an End: But, what say you to Thursday?
Paris.
My Lord, I would that Thursday were Tomorrow.
Cap.
Well, get you gone;—on Thursday be it then?
Farewell, my Lord.—Light to my Chamber, hoa!
Good-night.—
[Exeunt.
| Romeo and Juliet | |