Reading Help THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET
To old Freetown, our common judgment place. `
` Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. `
` Exeunt [all but Montague, his Wife, and Benvolio]. `
` Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? `
` 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; `
` 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, `
` Till the Prince came, who parted either part. `
` M. Wife. 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, `
` 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 `
` And stole into the covert of the wood. `
` I- measuring his affections by my own, `
` Which then most sought where most might not be found, `
` Being one too many by my weary self- `
` Pursu'd my humour, not Pursuing his, `
` And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. `
` 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 farthest East bean to draw `
` 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 `
` And makes himself an artificial night. `
` 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? `
` Mon. Both by myself and many other friend; `
` 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, `
` 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. `
` `
` Enter Romeo. `
` `
` 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 Wife]. `
` 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? `
` 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? `
` 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! `
` 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 anything, of nothing first create! `
` O heavy lightness! serious vanity! `
` Misshapen 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. `
` 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. `
` Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, `
` Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest `
` 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; `
` 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. `
` 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? `
` 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! `
` 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 markman! 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 `
` 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 th' encounter of assailing eyes, `
` Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. `
` O, she's 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; `
` 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 `
` 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. `
` Rom. 'Tis the way `
` To call hers (exquisite) in question more. `
` These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, `
` Being black puts us in mind they hide the fair. `
` He that is strucken blind cannot forget `
` 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. `
` Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` Scene II. `
` A Street. `
` `
` Enter Capulet, County Paris, and [Servant] -the Clown. `
` `
` 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. `
` 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, `
` 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. `
` The earth hath swallowed 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 `
` 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. `
` 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 apparell'd April on the heel `
` Of limping Winter treads, even such delight `
` 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 reck'ning none. `
` 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]. `
` Serv. Find them out whose names are written here? It is written `
` that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor `
` with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter `
`
` Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. `
` Exeunt [all but Montague, his Wife, and Benvolio]. `
` Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? `
` 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; `
` 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, `
` Till the Prince came, who parted either part. `
` M. Wife. 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, `
` 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 `
` And stole into the covert of the wood. `
` I- measuring his affections by my own, `
` Which then most sought where most might not be found, `
` Being one too many by my weary self- `
` Pursu'd my humour, not Pursuing his, `
` And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. `
` 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 farthest East bean to draw `
` 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 `
` And makes himself an artificial night. `
` 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? `
` Mon. Both by myself and many other friend; `
` 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, `
` 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. `
` `
` Enter Romeo. `
` `
` 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 Wife]. `
` 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? `
` 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? `
` 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! `
` 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 anything, of nothing first create! `
` O heavy lightness! serious vanity! `
` Misshapen 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. `
` 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. `
` Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, `
` Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest `
` 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; `
` 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. `
` 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? `
` 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! `
` 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 markman! 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 `
` 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 th' encounter of assailing eyes, `
` Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. `
` O, she's 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; `
` 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 `
` 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. `
` Rom. 'Tis the way `
` To call hers (exquisite) in question more. `
` These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, `
` Being black puts us in mind they hide the fair. `
` He that is strucken blind cannot forget `
` 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. `
` Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` Scene II. `
` A Street. `
` `
` Enter Capulet, County Paris, and [Servant] -the Clown. `
` `
` 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. `
` 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, `
` 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. `
` The earth hath swallowed 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 `
` 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. `
` 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 apparell'd April on the heel `
` Of limping Winter treads, even such delight `
` 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 reck'ning none. `
` 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]. `
` Serv. Find them out whose names are written here? It is written `
` that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor `
` with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter `
`