The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)

by William Shakespeare

  How now, who calls?

  Nurse

  Your mother is asking for you.

  Your mother.

  Juliet

  Yes, mother? What do you want?

  Madam, I am here. What is your will?

  Lady Capulet

  Hold on. Nurse, can you give us some privacy. Wait, on second thought, stay. You know my daughter as well as me.

  This is the matter,--Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret: nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age.

  Nurse

  I’ve know her since the hour she was born.

  Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

  Lady Capulet

  Then you know she is only thirteen.

  She's not fourteen.

  Nurse

  I would bet fourteen teeth, if I had that many, she is only thirteen. How long before August 1st?

  I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,-- She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide?

  Lady Capulet

  Two weeks and a few days.

  A fortnight and odd days.

  Nurse

  She will be fourteen on August 1st. My daughter, Susan, God rest her soul, would be the same age. Susan was too good for me, so God called her home. So, Juliet will be fourteen on August 1st. She will be able to be married then. I remember the earthquake, only eleven years ago, when she was weaned. I will never forget it. I had just put something bitter-tasting on my breast while sitting under the dove-house wall, and she was struggling to nurse. The earth began to shake and we took off. She could already stand alone and run a little, for the day before she had fallen and bumped her head. My husband, God rest his soul, loved the child. He picked her up and said, “Did you fall on your face? You will fall in love when you are older, won’t you?” I swear, she said, “Yes.” Just like that, she stopped crying and said, “Yes.” I’ll never forget it.

  Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she,--God rest all Christian souls!-- Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me:--but, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it--, Of all the days of the year, upon that day: For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; My lord and you were then at Mantua: Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug! Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before, she broke her brow: And then my husband,--God be with his soul! 'A was a merry man,--took up the child: 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay:' To see now how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand yeas, I never should forget it; 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said 'Ay.'

  Lady Capulet

  Okay, Nurse! Be quiet.

  Enough of this; I pray thee hold thy peace.

  Nurse

  Yes ma’am. But, I can’t stop laughing, thinking about Juliet crying and then stopping and saying, “Yes,” with a big goose egg on her head. It was a terrible bump and she cried, but my husband scooped her up and asked, “You will fall in love one day, won’t you?” Juliet stopped crying and said, “Yes.”

  Yes, madam;--yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say 'Ay:' And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone; A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly. 'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted, and said 'Ay.'

  Juliet

  It’s your turn to be quiet now, Nurse.

  And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

  Nurse

  I have done my best by you. You were the prettiest baby I ever nursed. I just hope I live to see you married one day.

  Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.

  Lady Capulet

  Marriage, that is what I wanted to talk to you about. How do you feel about marriage, Juliet?

  Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of.--Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?

  Juliet

  I haven’t really given it much thought.

  It is an honour that I dream not of.

  Nurse

  Haven’t thought of marriage? As your nurse, I think you aren’t very smart to not think about it.

  An honour!--were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.

  Lady Capulet

  Well, think of marriage now. Many girls your age are already married and having families. I was your mother at thirteen. But to get to the point, the valiant Paris seeks your hand in marriage.

  Well, think of marriage now: younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;-- The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

  Nurse

  A man, Juliet, and what a man. He’s a hunk!

  A man, young lady! lady, such a man As all the world--why he's a man of wax.

  Lady Capulet

  He is handsome.

  Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

  Nurse

  He is a spiritual man, too.

  Nay, he's a flower, in faith, a very flower.

  Lady Capulet

  So, what do you think? Do you think you could love him? He is coming to the party tonight. Take a look at him and consider if he would make a good husband. You two would make a beautiful couple, and you have nothing to lose.

  What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast; Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide: That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less.

  Nurse

  Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Like a baby!

  No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men

  Lady Capulet

  Do you think you could love Paris?

  Lady Capulet. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

  Juliet

  I’ll take a look at him, but I cannot promise you I will fall in love.

  I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

  (Enter a Servant.)

  Servant

  The guests have arrived and the food is being served. People are asking for Juliet and cursing the Nurse. It is a little chaotic, so I must ask you to come along.

  Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

  Lady Capulet

  I am coming. Juliet, the count is waiting.

  We follow thee. [Exit Servant.]-- Juliet, the county stays.

  Nurse

  Go, Jul
iet. Seek a husband and find happiness.

  Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

  (Exit all.)

  Scene IV: A street.

  (Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers, masked party-goers who dance, Torch-bearers, and others.)

  Romeo

  What are we going to say, if asked why we’re here? Or, are we just going to crash the party?

  What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology?

  Benvolio

  No one explains their reasoning for going to a party anymore. It’s not like we are going in dressed up as Cupid with a bow and arrow, or scaring ladies like a scarecrow. We are just going to go in there and dance. Let them take it as they wish, and then, we will be gone.

  The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

  Romeo

  Give me a torch. I don’t want any part of your dance. I am too sad, so I will carry the light.

  Give me a torch,--I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

  Mercutio

  But, you must dance.

  Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

  Romeo

  No way! My sadness weighs me down too much to be light on my feet.

  Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

  Mercutio

  Come on, Romeo, you are a lover. Like Cupid with his wings, soar above the ground.

  You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound.

  Romeo

  Cupid. He is the reason for my sadness. I am too sorrowful to fly. My sadness would make me sink to the ground.

  I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

  Mercutio

  Don’t blame love for your depression, because love is a tender thing, light and wonderful.

  And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing.

  Romeo

  Love a tender thing, ha! Love is rude and boisterous, and pricks like a thorn.

  Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn.

  Mercutio

  Well, if love is rough with you, then you be rough with love. Use your prick and beat love back. Give me my mask. What do I care if someone sees me? (Puts on mask.) Let this mask transform my face.

  If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.-- Give me a case to put my visage in: [Putting on a mask.] A visard for a visard! what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.

  Benvolio

  Come on, let’s go. As soon as we’re in, start dancing.

  Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in But every man betake him to his legs.

  Romeo

  Give me the torch. You guys go ahead and I’ll watch. I just am not up to dancing.

  A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,-- I'll be a candle-holder and look on,-- The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

  Mercutio

  You are being a bore. Let us help you overcome the sadness that drowns you. Come on, we’re wasting daylight.

  Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this--sir-reverence--love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears.--Come, we burn daylight, ho.

  Romeo

  No we’re not; it’s night.

  Nay, that's not so.

  Mercutio

  It’s just a figure of speech. I mean we are wasting time and our torches. Use your brain and figure it out.

  I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

  Romeo

  Like how we are using our brains by going to this party, uninvited.

  And we mean well, in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go.

  Mercutio

  What do you mean?

  Why, may one ask?

  Romeo

  I had a dream last night.

  I dreamt a dream to-night.

  Mercutio

  So what? I dreamed last night, too.

  And so did I.

  Romeo

  Well, what was yours?

  Well, what was yours?

  Mercutio

  I dreamed dreamers are often full of crap!

  That dreamers often lie.

  Romeo

  Dreamers lie in bed and dream of truthful things.

  In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

  Mercutio

  Hmm…Was someone in the bed with you like the harlot, Mab? She is the fairies’ midwife. She is no bigger than the alderman’s ring. She has a little chariot drawn by atoms and lands on men’s noses while they are asleep. The wagon wheel spokes are made of spider legs and the cover is grasshoppers’ wings. The reigns are made of spider webs and the harnesses, moonbeams. Her driver is a small gnat, and her wagon an empty hazelnut made by a squirrel or grub worm. She rides every night to lovers’ beds and makes them dream of love. She makes young girls dream of curtsies, and lawyers money. Old ladies dream of kisses and priests dream of big tithes. She drives over the soldier’s neck, and he dreams of murdering his enemies and the sound of drums going into battle, which scares him into waking. He says a prayer or two before going back to sleep. Mab is the one who plaits the horses’ manes at night, and casts a spell of doom on anyone who untangles it. She is the one who gives good dreams to virgins, teaching them how to lay with a man…

  O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider's web; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid: Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,-- Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night; And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them, and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she,--

  Romeo

  Enough, Mercutio. You are a babbling idiot.

  Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talk'st of nothing.

  Mercutio

  Sure, I talk about dreams, which are a
waste of time, the product of idle minds. They are meaningless and can no more predict the future than we can predict the wind.

  True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

  Benvolio

  You both are blowing wind and making us late.

  This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves: Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

  Romeo

  Going at all would be too early for me. I have a bad feeling about this. But, what do I care? Let’s go gentleman.

  I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels; and expire the term Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, By some vile forfeit of untimely death: But He that hath the steerage of my course Direct my sail!--On, lusty gentlemen!

  Benvolio

  Play the drum.

  Strike, drum.

  (Exit all.)

  Scene V: A hall in the Capulet’s house

  (Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.)

  First Servant

  Where’s Potpan, that lazy rascal. He is shirking his duties again!

  Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

  Second Servant

  It’s a bad thing when the only one to do the cleaning is dirty.

  When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

  First Servant

  Take away the stools and put the plates away, good man. Also save me a piece of candy if you love me. Let the porter call in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony! And Potpan!

  Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate:--good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.-- Antony! and Potpan!

  Second Servant

  Okay, I’m ready.

  Ay, boy, ready.

  First Servant

  They are calling for you in the dancing hall.

  You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for in the great chamber.