Masters of the Theatre

by Delphi Classics

  Act I. Scene V.

  Act II. Prologue.

  Act II. Scene I.

  Act II. Scene II.

  Act II. Scene III.

  Act II. Scene IV.

  Act II. Scene V.

  Act II. Scene VI.

  Act III. Scene I.

  Act III. Scene II.

  Act III. Scene III.

  Act III. Scene IV.

  Act III. Scene V.

  Act IV. Scene I.

  Act IV. Scene II.

  Act IV. Scene III.

  Act IV. Scene IV.

  Act IV. Scene V.

  Act V. Scene I.

  Act V. Scene II.

  Act V. Scene III.

  The 1968 Zeferelli film version

  The famous musical inspired by Shakespeare’s play

  The popular 2003 Baz Luhrmann film adaptation

  This play was taken from our Complete Works edition:

  Dramatis Personæ

  ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.

  PARIS, a young Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince.

  MONTAGUE & CAPULET, Heads of two Houses at variance with each other.

  Uncle to Capulet.

  ROMEO, son to Montague.

  MERCUTIO, Kinsman to the Prince, & BENVOLIO, Nephew to Montague: Friends to Romeo.

  TYBALT, Nephew to Lady Capulet.

  FRIAR LAURENCE, a Franciscan.

  FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order.

  BALTHASAR, Servant to Romeo.

  SAMPSON & GREGORY: Servants to Capulet.

  PETER, Servant to Juliet’s Nurse.

  ABRAHAM, Servant to Montague.

  An Apothecary.

  Three Musicians.

  Page to Mercutio; Page to Paris; another Page; an Officer.

  LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague.

  LADY CAPULET, Wife to Capulet.

  JULIET, Daughter to Capulet.

  Nurse to Juliet.

  Citizens of Verona; male and female Kinsfolk to both Houses; Masquers, Guards, Watchmen and Attendants.

  Chorus.

  SCENE. — Verona: Once (in the Fifth Act), at Mantua.

  Prologue.

  Enter Chorus.

  Chor. Two households, both alike in dignity,

  In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

  From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

  Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. 5

  From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

  A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;

  Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows

  Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.

  The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love, 10

  And the continuance of their parents’ rage,

  Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,

  Is now the two hours’ traffick of our stage;

  The which if you with patient ears attend,

  What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. [Exit. 15

  Act I. Scene I.

  Verona. A Public Place.

  Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with swords and bucklers.

  Sam. Gregory, o’ my word, we’ll not carry coals.

  Gre. No. for then we should be colliers.

  Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we’ll draw. 5

  Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar.

  Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.

  Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

  Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

  Gre. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if thou art moved, thou runnest away. 10

  Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s.

  Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

  Sam. ’Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague’s men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

  Gre. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

  Sam. ’Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. 15

  Gre. The heads of the maids?

  Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt.

  Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it.

  Sam. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand; and ’tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

  Gre. ’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues. 20

  Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR.

  Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee.

  Gre. How! turn thy back and run?

  Sam. Fear me not.

  Gre. No, marry; I fear thee! 25

  Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

  Gre. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.

  Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

  Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

  Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. 30

  Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

  Sam. [Aside to GREGORY.] Is the law of our side if I say ay?

  Gre. [Aside to SAMPSON.] No.

  Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.

  Gre. Do you quarrel, sir? 35

  Abr. Quarrel, sir! no, sir.

  Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.

  Abr. No better.

  Sam. Well, sir.

  Gre. [Aside to SAMPSON.] Say, ‘better;’ here comes one of my master’s kinsmen. 40

  Sam. Yes, better, sir.

  Abr. You lie.

  Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight.

  Enter BENVOLIO.

  Ben. Part, fools! 45

  Put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords.

  Enter TYBALT.

  Tyb. What! art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?

  Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

  Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, 50

  Or manage it to part these men with me.

  Tyb. What! drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word,

  As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.

  Have at thee, coward! [They fight.

  Enter several persons of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs and partisans. 55

  Citizens. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!

  Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

  Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET.

  Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

  Lady Cap. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? 60

  Cap. Mysword, I say! Old Montague is come,

  And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

  Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE.

  Mon. Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not; let me go.

  Lady Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. 65

  Enter PRINCE with his Train.

  Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

  Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, —

  Will they not hear? What ho! you men, you beasts,

  That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 70

  With purple fountains issuing from your veins,

  On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

  Throw your mis-temper’d weapons to the ground,

  And hear the sentence of your moved prince.

  Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, 75

  By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

  Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets,

  And made Verona’s ancient c
itizens

  Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

  To wield old partisans, in hands as old, 80

  Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d hate.

  If ever you disturb our streets again

  Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

  For this time, all the rest depart away:

  You, Capulet, shall go along with me; 85

  And, Montague, come you this afternoon

  To know our further pleasure in this case,

  To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.

  Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO.

  Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? 90

  Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

  Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary

  And yours close fighting ere I did approach:

  I drew to part them; in the instant came

  The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar’d, 95

  Which, as he breath’d defiance to my ears,

  He swung about his head, and cut the winds,

  Who, nothing hurt withal hiss’d him in scorn.

  While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,

  Came more and more, and fought on part and part, 100

  Till the prince came, who parted either part.

  Lady Mon. O! where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?

  Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

  Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp’d sun

  Peer’d forth the golden window of the east, 105

  A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;

  Where, underneath the grove of sycamore

  That westward rooteth from the city’s side,

  So early walking did I see your son:

  Towards him I made; but he was ware of me, 110

  And stole into the covert of the wood:

  I, measuring his affections by my own,

  That most are busied when they’re most alone,

  Pursu’d my humour not pursuing his,

  And gladly shunn’d who gladly fled from me. 115

  Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,

  With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s dew,

  Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs:

  But all so soon as the all-cheering sun

  Should in the furthest east begin to draw 120

  The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,

  Away from light steals home my heavy son,

  And private in his chamber pens himself,

  Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,

  And makes himself an artificial night. 125

  Black and portentous must this humour prove

  Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

  Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

  Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him.

  Ben. Have you importun’d him by any means? 130

  Mon. Both by myself and many other friends:

  But he, his own affections’ counsellor,

  Is to himself, I will not say how true,

  But to himself so secret and so close,

  So far from sounding and discovery, 135

  As is the bud bit with an envious worm,

  Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,

  Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

  Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,

  We would as willingly give cure as know. 140

  Ben. See where he comes: so please you, step aside;

  I’ll know his grievance, or be much denied.

  Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,

  To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let’s away. [Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY.

  Enter ROMEO. 145

  Ben. Good morrow, cousin.

  Rom. Is the day so young?

  Ben. But new struck nine.

  Rom. Ay me! sad hours seem long.

  Was that my father that went hence so fast? 150

  Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

  Rom. Not having that, which having, makes them short.

  Ben. In love?

  Rom. Out —

  Ben. Of love? 155

  Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love.

  Ben. Alas! that love, so gentle in his view,

  Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.

  Rom. Alas! that love, whose view is muffled still,

  Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will. 160

  Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?

  Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

  Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love:

  Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!

  O any thing! of nothing first create. 165

  O heavy lightness! serious vanity!

  Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

  Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!

  Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

  This love feel I, that feel no love in this. 170

  Dost thou not laugh?

  Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.

  Rom. Good heart, at what?

  Ben. At thy good heart’s oppression.

  Rom. Why, such is love’s transgression. 175

  Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

  Which thou wilt propagate to have it press’d

  With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown

  Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

  Love is a smoke rais’d with the fume of sighs; 180

  Being purg’d, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

  Being vex’d, a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears:

  What is it else? a madness most discreet,

  A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

  Farewell, my coz. [Going. 185

  Ben. Soft, I will go along;

  An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

  Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here;

  This is not Romeo, he’s some other where.

  Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. 190

  Rom. What! shall I groan and tell thee?

  Ben. Groan! why, no;

  But sadly tell me who.

  Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will;

  Ah! word ill urg’d to one that is so ill. 195

  In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

  Ben. I aim’d so near when I suppos’d you lov’d.

  Rom. A right good mark-man! And she’s fair I love.

  Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

  Rom. Well, in that hit you miss: she’ll not be hit 200

  With Cupid’s arrow; she hath Dian’s wit;

  And, in strong proof of chastity well arm’d,

  From love’s weak childish bow she lives unharm’d.

  She will not stay the siege of loving terms,

  Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 205

  Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:

  O! she is rich in beauty; only poor

  That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

  Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

  Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; 210

  For beauty, starv’d with her severity,

  Cuts beauty off from all posterity.

  She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,

  To merit bliss by making me despair:

  She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow 215

  Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

  Ben. Be rul’d by me; forget to think of her.

  Rom. O! teach me how I should forget to think.

  Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes:

  Examine other beauties. 220

  Rom. ’Tis the way

  To call hers exquisite, in question more.

  These happy mask
s that kiss fair ladies’ brows

  Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;

  He, that is strucken blind cannot forget 225

  The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:

  Show me a mistress that is passing fair,

  What doth her beauty serve but as a note

  Where I may read who pass’d that passing fair?

  Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. 230

  Ben. I’ll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt.

  Act I. Scene II.

  The Same. A Street.

  Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant.

  Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I,

  In penalty alike; and ’tis not hard, I think,

  For men so old as we to keep the peace. 5

  Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;

  And pity ’tis you liv’d at odds so long.

  But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

  Cap. But saying o’er what I have said before:

  My child is yet a stranger in the world, 10

  She hath not seen the change of fourteen years;

  Let two more summers wither in their pride

  Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

  Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

  Cap. And too soon marr’d are those so early made. 15

  Earth hath swallow’d all my hopes but she,

  She is the hopeful lady of my earth:

  But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,

  My will to her consent is but a part;

  An she agree, within her scope of choice 20

  Lies my consent and fair according voice.

  This night I hold an old accustom’d feast,

  Whereto I have invited many a guest

  Such as I love; and you, among the store,

  One more, most welcome, makes my number more. 25

  At my poor house look to behold this night

  Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:

  Such comfort as do lusty young men feel

  When well-apparel’d April on the heel

  Of limping winter treads, even such delight 30

  Among fresh female buds shall you this night

  Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,

  And like her most whose merit most shall be:

  Which on more view, of many mine being one

  May stand in number, though in reckoning none. 35

  Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving him a paper.] Go, sirrah, trudge about

  Through fair Verona; find those persons out

  Whose names are written there, and to them say,

  My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS.