William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (186 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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JULIET
Now, by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste, that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear
It shall be Romeo—whom you know I hate—
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed.
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste, that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear
It shall be Romeo—whom you know I hate—
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed.
Enter Capulet and the Nurse
CAPULET’S WIFE
Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
And see how he will take it at your hands.
CAPULET
When the sun sets, the earth doth drizzle dew,
But for the sunset of my brother’s son
It rains downright.
How now, a conduit, girl? What, still in tears?
Evermore show‘ring? In one little body
Thou counterfeit’st a barque, a sea, a wind,
For still thy eyes—which I may call the sea—
Do ebb and flow with tears. The barque thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds thy sighs,
Who, raging with thy tears and they with them,
Without a sudden calm will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body.—How now, wife?
Have you delivered to her our decree?
But for the sunset of my brother’s son
It rains downright.
How now, a conduit, girl? What, still in tears?
Evermore show‘ring? In one little body
Thou counterfeit’st a barque, a sea, a wind,
For still thy eyes—which I may call the sea—
Do ebb and flow with tears. The barque thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds thy sighs,
Who, raging with thy tears and they with them,
Without a sudden calm will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body.—How now, wife?
Have you delivered to her our decree?
CAPULET’S WIFE
Ay, sir, but she will none, she gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave.
I would the fool were married to her grave.
CAPULET
Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bride?
How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bride?
JULIET
Not proud you have, but thankful that you have.
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.
CAPULET
How, how, how, how—chopped logic? What is this?
‘Proud’, and ‘I thank you’, and ’I thank you not’,
And yet ‘not proud’ ? Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next
To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage,
You tallow-face!
‘Proud’, and ‘I thank you’, and ’I thank you not’,
And yet ‘not proud’ ? Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next
To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage,
You tallow-face!
CAPULET’S WIFE Fie, fie, what, are you mad?
JULIET (
kneeling
)
kneeling
)
Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
CAPULET
Hang thee, young baggage, disobedient wretch!
I tell thee what: get thee to church o’ Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.
I tell thee what: get thee to church o’ Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.
⌈
Juliet rises
⌉
My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
That God had lent us but this only child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.
Out on her, hilding!
That God had lent us but this only child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.
Out on her, hilding!
NURSE God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
CAPULET
And why, my lady Wisdom? Hold your tongue,
Good Prudence. Smatter with your gossips, go!
Good Prudence. Smatter with your gossips, go!
NURSE
I speak no treason.
⌈CAPULET⌉ O, God-i’-good-e’en!
⌈NURSE⌉
May not one speak?
CAPULET Peace, you mumbling fool,
Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl,
For here we need it not.
For here we need it not.
CAPULET’S WIFE You are too hot.
CAPULET
God’s bread, it makes me mad. Day, night; work, play;
Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her matched; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly lined,
Stuffed, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportioned as one’s thought would wish a man—
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining maumet, in her fortune’s tender,
To answer ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love;
I am too young, I pray you pardon me’!
But an you will not wed, I’ll pardon you!
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Look to‘t, think on’t. I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near. Lay hand on heart. Advise.
An you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend.
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
For, by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to’t. Bethink you. I’ll not be forsworn.
Exit
Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her matched; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly lined,
Stuffed, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportioned as one’s thought would wish a man—
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining maumet, in her fortune’s tender,
To answer ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love;
I am too young, I pray you pardon me’!
But an you will not wed, I’ll pardon you!
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Look to‘t, think on’t. I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near. Lay hand on heart. Advise.
An you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend.
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
For, by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to’t. Bethink you. I’ll not be forsworn.
Exit
JULIET
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds
That sees into the bottom of my grief’
O sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
That sees into the bottom of my grief’
O sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
CAPULET’S WIFE
Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word.
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
Exit
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
Exit
JULIET
O, God—ONurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven.
How shall that faith return again to earth
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!
What sayst thou? Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, Nurse.
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven.
How shall that faith return again to earth
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!
What sayst thou? Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, Nurse.
NURSE Faith, here it is: Romeo
Is banished, and all the world to nothing
That he dares ne‘er come back to challenge you,
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the County.
O, he’s a lovely gentleman!
Romeo’s a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or ’twere as good he were
As living hence and you no use of him.
That he dares ne‘er come back to challenge you,
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the County.
O, he’s a lovely gentleman!
Romeo’s a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or ’twere as good he were
As living hence and you no use of him.
JULIET Speak’st thou from thy heart?
NURSE
And from my soul, too, else beshrew them both.
JULIET Amen.
NURSE What?
JULIET
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Laurence’ cell
To make confession and to be absolved.
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Laurence’ cell
To make confession and to be absolved.
NURSE
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. ⌈
Exit
⌉
Exit
⌉
JULIET (
watching her go
)
watching her go
)
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times? Go, counsellor!
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
I’ll to the friar, to know his remedy.
If all else fail, myself have power to die.
Exit
4.1Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times? Go, counsellor!
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
I’ll to the friar, to know his remedy.
If all else fail, myself have power to die.
Exit
Enter Friar Laurence and Paris
FRIAR LAURENCE
On Thursday, sir? The time is very short.
PARIS
My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
FRIAR LAURENCE
You say you do not know the lady’s mind?
Uneven is the course. I like it not.
Uneven is the course. I like it not.
PARIS
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt’s death,
And therefore have I little talked of love,
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she do give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage
To stop the inundation of her tears,
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
And therefore have I little talked of love,
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she do give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage
To stop the inundation of her tears,
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
FRIAR
LAURENCE (
aside
)
LAURENCE (
aside
)
I would I knew not why it should be slowed.—
Enter Juliet
Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.
PARIS
Happily met, my lady and my wife.
JULIET
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
PARIS
That ’may be’ must be, love, on Thursday next.
JULIET
What must be shall be.
FRIAR LAURENCE That’s a certain text.
PARIS
Come you to make confession to this father?
JULIET
To answer that, I should confess to you.
PARIS
Do not deny to him that you love me.
JULIET
I will confess to you that I love him.
PARIS
So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
JULIET
If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
PARIS
Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.
JULIET
The tears have got small victory by that,
For it was bad enough before their spite.
For it was bad enough before their spite.
PARIS
Thou wrong’st it more than tears with that report.
JULIET
That is no slander, sir, which is a truth,
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
PARIS
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it.
JULIET
It may be so, for it is not mine own.—
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
FRIAR LAURENCE
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
PARIS
God shield I should disturb devotion!—
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye.
(
Kissing her
) Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
Exit
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye.
(
Kissing her
) Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
Exit
JULIET
O, shut the door, and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!
Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!
FRIAR LAURENCE
O Juliet, I already know thy grief.
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this County.
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this County.
JULIET
Tell me not, friar, that thou hear’st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I’ll help it presently.
God joined my heart and Romeo‘s, thou our hands,
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo’s sealed,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
’Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak. I long to die
If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy.
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
She draws a knife
God joined my heart and Romeo‘s, thou our hands,
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo’s sealed,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
’Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak. I long to die
If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy.
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hold, daughter, I do spy a kind of hope
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop‘st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar’st, I’ll give thee remedy.
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop‘st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar’st, I’ll give thee remedy.
JULIET
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of any tower,
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk
Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears,
Or hide me nightly in a charnel house,
O’ercovered quite with dead men’s rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hide me with a dead man in his tomb—
Things that, to hear them told, have made me
tremble—
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.
From off the battlements of any tower,
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk
Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears,
Or hide me nightly in a charnel house,
O’ercovered quite with dead men’s rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hide me with a dead man in his tomb—
Things that, to hear them told, have made me
tremble—
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow.
Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone.
Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drink thou off,
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease.
No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest.
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To wanny ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall
Like death when he shuts up the day of life.
Each part, deprived of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death;
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.
Then, as the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes, uncovered on the bier
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the meantime, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come, and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow.
Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone.
Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drink thou off,
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease.
No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest.
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To wanny ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall
Like death when he shuts up the day of life.
Each part, deprived of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death;
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.
Then, as the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes, uncovered on the bier
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the meantime, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come, and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
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