The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  ⌈MERCUTIO⌉ Nay, I’ll conjure too.

  Romeo! Humours! adman! Passion! Lover!

  Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh.

  Speak but one rhyme and I am satisfied.

  Cry but ‘Ay me!’ Pronounce but ‘love’ and ‘dove’.

  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 loved the beggar maid.—

  He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not.

  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,

  That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

  BENVOLIO

  An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

  MERCUTIO

  This cannot anger him. ’Twould anger him

  To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle

  Of some strange nature, letting it there stand

  Till she had laid it and conjured it down.

  That were some spite. My invocation

  Is fair and honest. In his mistress’ name,

  I conjure only but to raise up him.

  BENVOLIO

  Come, he hath hid himself among these trees

  To be consorted with the humorous night.

  Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

  MERCUTIO

  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

  As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.

  O Romeo, that she were, O that she were

  An open-arse, and thou a popp’rin’ pear.

  Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed.

  This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.

  Come, shall we go?

  BENVOLIO Go then, for ’tis in vain

  To seek him here that means not to be found.

  Exeunt Benvolio and Mercutio

  ROMEO ⌈coming forward⌉

  He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

  But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

  It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

  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,

  And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

  ⌈Enter Juliet aloft⌉

  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.

  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?—

  The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

  As daylight doth a lamp; her eye 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.

  O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

  That I might touch that cheek!

  JULIET Ay me.

  ROMEO (aside) She speaks.

  O, speak again, bright angel; for thou art

  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-passing clouds

  And sails upon the bosom of the air.

  JULIET (not knowing Romeo hears her)

  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.

  ROMEO (aside)

  Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

  JULIET

  ’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

  Belonging to a man. O, be some other name I

  What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

  By any other word would smell as sweet.

  So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,

  Retain that dear perfection which he owes

  Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

  And for thy name—which is no part of thee—

  Take all myself.

  ROMEO (to Juliet) I take thee at thy word.

  Call me but love and I’ll be new baptized.

  Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

  JULIET

  What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,

  So stumblest on my counsel?

  ROMEO By a name

  I know not how to tell thee who I am.

  My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself

  Because it is an enemy to thee.

  Had I it written, I would tear the word.

  JULIET

  My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words

  Of thy tongue’s uttering, yet I know the sound.

  Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

  ROMEO

  Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.

  JULIET

  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,

  If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

  ROMEO

  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.

  JULIET

  If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

  ROMEO

  Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye

  Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet,

  And I am proof against their enmity.

  JULIET

  I would not for the world they saw thee here.

  ROMEO

  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.

  JULIET

  By whose direction found’st thou out this place?

  ROMEO

  By love, that first did prompt me to enquire.

  He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.

  I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far

  As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea,

  I should adventure for such merchandise.

  JULIET

  Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,

  Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

  For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.

  Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny

  What I have spoke; but farewell, compliment.

  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;

  Or if th
ou 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 thou mayst think my ‘haviour light.

  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 overheard’st, ere I was ware,

  My true-love passion. Therefore pardon me,

  And not impute this yielding to light love,

  Which the dark night hath so discoverèd.

  ROMEO

  Lady, by yonder blessèd moon I vow,

  That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—

  JULIET

  O swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon

  That monthly changes in her circled orb,

  Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

  ROMEO

  What shall I swear by?

  JULIET Do not swear at all,

  Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

  Which is the god of my idolatry,

  And I’ll believe thee.

  ROMEO If my heart’s dear love—

  JULIET

  Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,

  I have no joy of this contract tonight.

  It is too rash, too unadvised, 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.

  Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest

  Come to thy heart as that within my breast.

  ROMEO

  O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

  JULIET

  What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?

  ROMEO

  Th’exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.

  JULIET

  I gave thee mine before thou didst request it,

  And yet I would it were to give again.

  ROMEO

  Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?

  JULIET

  But to be frank and give it thee again.

  And yet I wish but for the thing I have.

  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.

  Stay but a little; I will come again. Exit

  ROMEO

  O blessed, blessèd night! I am afeard,

  Being in night, all this is but a dream,

  Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

  Enter Juliet aloft

  JULIET

  Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.

  If that thy bent of love be honourable,

  Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow,

  By one that I’ll procure to come to thee,

  Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite,

  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. (To Romeo) But if thou mean’st not well,

  I do beseech thee—

  ⌈NURSE⌉ (within) Madam!

  JULIET By and by I come.—

  To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief.

  Tomorrow will I send.

  ROMEO So thrive my soul—

  JULIET A thousand times good night. Exit

  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.

  ⌈He is going.⌉ Enter Juliet aloft again

  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!

  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 nyas?

  JULIET What o’clock tomorrow

  Shall I send to thee?

  ROMEO By the hour of nine.

  JULIET

  I will not fail; ’tis twenty year 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,

  Rememb’ring 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 farther than a wanton’s bird,

  That lets it hop a little from his 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.

  ⌈ROMEO⌉

  Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.Exit Juliet

  Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.

  Hence will I to my ghostly sire’s close cell,

  His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

  Exit

  2.2 Enter Friar Laurence, with a basket

  FRIAR LAURENCE

  The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,

  Chequ’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light,

  And fleckled 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-juicèd 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 plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities,

  For naught so vile that on the earth doth live

  But to the earth some special good doth give;

  Nor aught so good but, strained from that fair use,

  Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.

  Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,

  And vice sometime’s by action dignified.

  Enter Romeo

  Within the infant rind of this weak 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.

  ROMEO

  Good morrow, father.

  FRIAR LAURENCE Benedicite.

  What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

  Young son, it argues a distempered 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 unbruisèd youth with unstuffed brain

  Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.

  Therefore thy earliness doth me assure

  Thou art uproused with some distemp’rature;

  Or if not so, then here I hit it right:

  Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.

  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 wooed, and made exchange of vow

  I’ll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,

  That thou consent to marry us today.

  FRIAR LAURENCE

  Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!

  Is Rosaline, that 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 washed 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 yet ring in mine ancient ears.

  Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit

  Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.