Romeo and Juliet E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Reclam Verlag
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: Reclams Rote Reihe – Fremdsprachentexte
• Sprache: Deutsch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Seitenzahl: 277

Beschreibung

Die beiden Veroneser Familien Capulet und Montague sind seit Generationen verfeindet. Romeo, ein Montague, hat sich unbemerkt auf das Kostümfest der Capulets geschlichen, wo er Julia begegnet, der schönen Tochter der Capulets. Kann die Liebe der beiden die Feindschaft zwischen den Familien überwinden? Ungekürzte und unbearbeitete Textausgabe in der Originalsprache, mit Übersetzungen schwieriger Wörter, Nachwort und Literaturhinweisen. Verszählung wie in der gedruckten Ausgabe aus Reclams Roter Reihe.

Leseprobe

FREMDSPRACHENTEXTE · ENGLISCH

William Shakespeare

Romeo and Juliet

Herausgegeben von Herbert Geisen

Reclam

Zu Shakespeares Romeo and Juliet gibt es in Reclams Universal-Bibliothek einen Lektüreschlüssel für Schülerinnen und Schüler (Nr. 15341)

2013 Philipp Reclam jun. GmbH & Co. KG, Stuttgart

Gesamtherstellung: Reclam, Ditzingen

Made in Germany 2017

RECLAM ist eine eingetragene Marke

der Philipp Reclam jun. GmbH & Co. KG, Stuttgart

ISBN: 978-3-15-960188-5

ISBN der Buchausgabe: 978-3-15-009005-3

www.reclam.de

Inhalt

Romeo and Juliet

Editorische Notiz

Anmerkungen

Literaturhinweise

Nachwort

Hinweise zur E-Book-Ausgabe

The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

Dramatis Personae

ESCALUS Prince of Verona

MERCUTIOkinsman of the Prince and friend of Romeo

PARIS, a young count, kinsman of the Prince and Mercutio, and suitor of Juliet Page to Count Paris

MONTAGUE head of a Veronese family at feud with the Capulets

LADY MONTAGUE

ROMEO son of Montague

BENVOLIO nephew of Montague and friend of Romeo and Mercutio

ABRAM servant of Montague

BALTHASAR servant of Montague attending on Romeo

CAPULET head of a Veronese family at feud with the Montagues

LADY CAPULET

JULIET daughter of Capulet

TYBALT nephew of Lady Capulet An old man of the Capulet family

NURSE of Juliet, her foster-mother

PETER, servant of Capulet attending on the Nurse

of the Capluet household:

SAMPSON GREGORY ANTHONY POTPAN A CLOWNSERVINGMEN

FRIAR1 LAURENCE, a Franciscan

FRIAR JOHN, a Franciscan An Apothecary of Mantua Three Musicians (Simon Catling, Hugh Rebeck, James Soundpost)Members of the Watch Citizens of Verona, maskers2, torchbearers, pages, servants, and attendants

CHORUS

Scene: Verona and Mantua

kinsman: Verwandter

count: Graf (für ausländische Adelstitel, die dem earl entsprechen, verwendet).

suitor: Freier, Bewerber.

feud: Fehde.

to attend on s.o.: jdn. bedienen, jdm. aufwarten.

nurse: Amme.

foster-mother: Pflege-, Ziehmutter.

servingman: Bedienter, Dienstmann.

friar: Mönch, (Ordens-)Bruder (vgl. Anm.).

Mantua: etwa 40 km südlich von Verona gelegene norditalienische Stadt.

Catling / Rebeck / Soundpost: sprechende Namen (catling: dünne Darmsaite; rebeck: dreisaitige Fiedel; soundpost: [Holz-]Steg [zwischen Saiten und Klangkörper]).

masker: Maskierter.

torchbearer: Fackelträger (torch: Fackel).

attendants (pl.): Gefolge.

The Prologue1

Enter Chorus.

CHORUS. Two households, both alike in dignity

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudgebreak to new mutiny,2

Where civil3 blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-crossed4 lovers take their life;

Whose misadventuredpiteousoverthrows

Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.

The fearfulpassage of their death-marked love

And the continuance of their parents’ rage,

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

Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;

The which if5 you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.6

(Exit.)

prologue: Prolog, Vorrede, -spiel.

grudge: Groll.

to break to s.th.: in etwas ausbrechen.

mutiny: Zwietracht, Aufruhr, Streit.

civil: Bürger-.

loin: Lende, Schoß.

foe: Feind(in).

star-crossed: etwa: sterndurchkreuzt, unter dem Einfluß der Gestirne stehend, vom Schicksal vereitelt (to cross: vereiteln).

misadventured: unglücklich.

piteous: mitleiderregend, traurig.

overthrow: Untergang, Niederlage.

strife: Streit.

fearful: furchtbar.

passage: Verlauf.

death-marked: vom Tod gezeichnet.

but: außer.

nought: nichts.

traffic (fig.): Sache, Angelegenheit.

to attend: folgen, zuhören.

to miss:: mißlingen, sich als unzulänglich erweisen.

exit (Lat.): er, sie geht ab.

Act I

Scene 1

Verona. A public place.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with swords and bucklers, of the house of Capulet.

SAMPSON. Gregory, on my word, we’ll not carry coals.

GREGORY. No. For then we should be colliers.

SAMPSON. I mean, an we be in choler,1 we’ll draw.

GREGORY. Ay, while you2 live, draw your neck out of collar.

SAMPSON. I strike quickly, being moved.

GREGORY. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

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

GREGORY. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand. Therefore, if thou art moved, thou runnest away.

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

GREGORY. That shows thee a weak slave. For the weakest goes to the wall.

SAMPSON. ’Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,3 are ever thrust to the wall. Therefore I will push Montague’s men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

GREGORY. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men.

SAMPSON. ’Tis all one. I will show myself a tyrant. When I have fought with the men, I will be civil with the maids – I will cut off their heads.

GREGORY. The heads of the maids?

SAMPSON. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads.4 Take it in what sense thou wilt.

GREGORY. They must take it in sense that feel it.5

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

GREGORY. ’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-John. Draw thy tool. Here comes of the house of Montagues.

(Enter Abram and another Servingman.)

SAMPSON. My naked weapon is out. Quarrel, I will back thee.

GREGORY. How? Turn thy back and run?

SAMPSON. Fear me not.

GREGORY. No, marry. I fear thee!

SAMPSON. Let us take the law of our sides. Let them begin.

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

SAMPSON. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;6 which is disgrace to them if they bear it.

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

SAMPSON. I do bite my thumb, sir.

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

SAMPSON(aside to Gregory).

Is the law of our side if I say “Ay”?

GREGORY(aside to Sampson).

No.

SAMPSON. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir. But I bite my thumb, sir.

GREGORY. Do you quarrel, sir?

ABRAM. Quarrel, sir? No, sir.

SAMPSON. But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you.

ABRAM. No better.

SAMPSON. Well, sir. (Enter Benvolio.)

GREGORY(aside to Sampson).

Say “better”. Here comes one of my master’s kinsmen.

SAMPSON. Yes, better, sir.

ABRAM. You lie.

SAMPSON. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.

(They fight.)

BENVOLIO. Part, fools!

Put up your swords. You know not what you do.7

(Enter Tybalt.)

TYBALT. What, art thou drawn among these heartlesshinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.8

BENVOLIO. I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword,

Or manage it to part these men with me.

TYBALT. 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 three or four Citizens with clubs or partisans.)

CITIZENS. Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! Beat them down! Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!

(Enter old Capulet in his gown,9 and his wife.)

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

LADY CAPULET. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?

(Enter old Montague and his wife.)

CAPULET. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come

And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

MONTAGUE. Thou villain Capulet! – Hold me not. Let me go.

LADY MONTAGUE. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

(Enter Prince Escalus, with his train.)

PRINCE ESCALUS. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

Profaners of this neighbour-stainèd steel –

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

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

With purple fountains issuing from your veins!

On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground

And hear the sentence of your movèd prince.10

Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word

By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets

And made Verona’s ancient citizens

Cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments

To wield old partisans, in hands as old,

Cankered with peace, to part your cankered 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;

And, Montague, come you this afternoon,

To know our farther pleasure in this case,

To old Free-town11, our commonjudgement-place.

Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

(Exeunt all but Montague, his wife, and Benvolio.)

MONTAGUE. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?

Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

BENVOLIO. 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 fiery12 Tybalt, with his sword prepared;

Which, as he breatheddefiance to my ears,

He swung about his head and cut the winds,

Who, nothing hurt withal, hissed 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.13

LADY MONTAGUE. O where is Romeo? Saw you him today?

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

BENVOLIO. Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun

Peered forth the golden window of the East,

A troubled mind drive me to walk abroad;

Where, underneath the grove of sycamore

That westward rootethfrom this city 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,

Pursued my humour, not pursuing his,

And gladly shunnedwho gladly fled from me.14

MONTAGUE. 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 begin to draw

The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,

Away from light steals home my heavy15 son

And private in his chamber pens himself,

Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,

And makes himself an artificial night.16

Black and portentous must this humour prove

Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

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

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

BENVOLIO. Have you importuned him by any means?

MONTAGUE. 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,

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.)

BENVOLIO. See, where he comes. So please you step aside.

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

MONTAGUE. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay

To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let’s away.

(Exeunt Montague and wife.)

BENVOLIO. Good morrow, cousin.

ROMEO. Is the day so young?

BENVOLIO. But new struck nine.

ROMEO. Ay me! sad hours seem long.

Was that my father that went hence so fast?

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

ROMEO. Not having that which having makes them short.

BENVOLIO. In love?

ROMEO. Out –

BENVOLIO. Of love?

ROMEO. Out of her favour17 where I am in love.

BENVOLIO. Alas that love, so gentle in hisview,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

ROMEO. Alas that love, whose view is muffled,18still

Should without eyes see pathways to his will!

Where shall we dine?19 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.20

Dost thou not laugh?

BENVOLIO. No, coz, I rather weep.

ROMEO. Good heart, at what?

BENVOLIO. At thy good heart’s oppression.

ROMEO. Why, such is love’s transgression.

Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pressed21

With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers’ tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A chokinggall and a preserving sweet.22

Farewell, my coz.

BENVOLIO. Soft! I will go along.

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

ROMEO. Tut, I have left myself. I am not here.

This is not Romeo, he’s some other where.23

BENVOLIO. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love?

ROMEO. What, shall I groan and tell thee?

BENVOLIO. Groan? Why, no.

But sadly tell me who.

ROMEO. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will.

Ah, word illurged to one that is so ill!

In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

BENVOLIO. I aimed so near when I supposed you loved.

ROMEO. A right good markman. And she’s fair I love.

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

ROMEO. Well, in that hit you miss. She’ll not be hit

With Cupid’s arrow. She hath Dian’s wit,24

And, in strong proof of chastity well armed,

From love’s weak childish bow she lives uncharmed.

She will not stay the siege of loving terms,

Nor bideth’encounter of assailing eyes,

Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.25

O, she is rich in beauty; only poor

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.26

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

ROMEO. She hath; and in that sparing makes huge waste.

For beauty, starved 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.

BENVOLIO. Be ruled by me – forget to think of her.

ROMEO. O, teach me how I should forget to think!

BENVOLIO. By giving liberty unto thine eyes.

Examine other beauties.

ROMEO. ’Tis the way

To call hers, exquisite, in question more.

These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows,

Being black,27 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 passed that passing fair?

Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget.

BENVOLIO. I’ll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.28

(Exeunt.)

Scene 2

The same; later in the day.

Enter Capulet, County Paris, and the Clown, a Servant.

CAPULET. 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.

PARIS. Of honourable reckoning are you both,

And pity ’tis you lived at odds so long.

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

CAPULET. 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.29

Let two more summers wither in their pride

Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

PARIS. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

CAPULET. And too soon marred are those so early made.

Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she;

She’s the hopeful lady of my earth.30

But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart.

My will to her consent is but a part,

And, she agreed, within her scope of choice

Lies my consent and fair according voice.31

This night I hold an old accustomed 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 tobehold this night

Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light.32

Such comfort as do lusty young men feel

When well-apparelled April33 on the heel

Of limping winter treads, even such delight

Among fresh female34 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.) 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.)

SERVANT. 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 with his nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learnèd. In good time!

(Enter Benvolio and Romeo.)

BENVOLIO. Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning.

One pain is lessened by another’s anguish.

Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning.

One desperate grief cures with another’s languish.

Take thou some new infection to thy eye,

And the rank poison of the old will die.

ROMEO. Your plantain36 leaf is excellent for that.

BENVOLIO. For what, I pray thee?

ROMEO. For your brokenshin.

BENVOLIO. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

ROMEO. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is;

Shut up in prison, kept without my food,

Whipped and tormented37 and – Good-e’en,38 good fellow.

SERVANT. God gi’ good-e’en. I pray, sir, can you read?

ROMEO. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

SERVANT. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything you see?

ROMEO. Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

SERVANT. Ye say honestly. Rest you merry.

ROMEO. Stay, fellow. I can read.

(He reads the letter.)

“Signor Martino and his wife and daughters. County Anselm and his beauteous sisters. The lady widow of Utruvio. Signor Placentio and his lovely nieces. Mercutio and his brother Valentine. Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters. My fair niece Rosaline and Livia. Signor Valentio and his cousin Tybalt. Lucio and the lively Helena.” A fair asssembly. Whither should they come?

SERVANT. Up.

ROMEO. Whither? To supper?

SERVANT. To our house.

ROMEO. Whose house?

SERVANT. My master’s.

ROMEO. Indeed I should have asked thee that before.

SERVANT. Now I’ll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.

(Exit Servant.)

BENVOLIO. At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s

Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves,39

With all the admirèd beauties of Verona.

Go thither, and with unattainted eye

Compare her face with some that I shall show,

And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

ROMEO. When the devout religion of mine eye

Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;

And these, who, often drowned, could never die,

Transparentheretics, be burnt for liars!

One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun

Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.40

BENVOLIO. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,

Herself poised with herself in either eye.

But in thatcrystalscales let there be weighed41

Your lady’s love against some other maid

That I will show you shining at this feast,

And she shall scant show well that now seems best.

ROMEO. I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown,

But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.

(Exeunt.)

Scene 3

Within Capulet’s house.

Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

LADY CAPULET. Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me.

NURSE. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old,42

I bade her come. What, lamb! What, ladybird! –

God forbid! – Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!

(Enter Juliet.)

JULIET. How now? Who calls?

NURSE. Your mother.

JULIET. Madam, I am here. What is your will?

LADY CAPULET. This is the matter – Nurse, give leave awhile.

We must talk in secret. – Nurse, come back again.

I have remembered me, thou’s hear our counsel.

Thou knowest my daughter’s of a pretty age.

NURSE. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

LADY CAPULET. She’s not fourteen.

NURSE. I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth –

And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four –

She’s not fourteen. How long is it now

To Lammastide43?

LADY CAPULET. A fortnight and odd days.

NURSE. 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;44

And she was weaned – I never shall forget it –

Of all the days of the year, upon that day.

For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,45

Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse 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 wi’ th’ dug!

Shake, quoth the dovehouse! ’Twas no need, I trow,

To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years.

For then she could stand high-lone. Nay, by th’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 holidam,

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 years,

I never should forget it. “Wilt thou not, Jule?” quoth he,

And, pretty fool, it stinted and said “Ay”.

LADY CAPULET. Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace.

NURSE. Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh

To think it should leave crying and say “Ay”.

And yet, I warrant, it had upon it brow

A bump as big as a young cockerel’sstone,

A perilous knock. And it cried bitterly.

“Yea,” quoth my husband, “fallest upon thy face?

Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age.

Wilt thou not, Jule?” It stinted, and said “Ay”.

JULIET. And stint thou too, I pray thee, Nurse, say I.

NURSE. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e’er I nursed.

An I might live to see thee married once,

I have my wish.

LADY CAPULET. Marry, that “marry” is the very theme

I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,

How stands your dispositions to be married?

JULIET. It is an honour that I dream not of.

NURSE. An honour! Were not I thine only nurse,

I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat.

LADY CAPULET. 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.46

NURSE. A man, young lady! Lady, such a man

As all the world – why, he’s a man of wax.

LADY CAPULET. Verona’s summer hath not such a flower.

NURSE. Nay, he’s a flower; in faith, a very flower.

LADY CAPULET. 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 marriedlineament,

And see how one another lends content.

And what obscured 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.47

The fish lives in the sea, and ’tis much pride

For fair without the fair within to hide.48

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. No less? Nay, bigger! Women grow by men.

LADY CAPULET. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love?

JULIET. I’ll look to like, if looking liking move.49

But no more deep will I endart mine eye

Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

(Enter Servingman.)

SERVINGMAN. 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.50

LADY CAPULET. We follow thee.

(Exit Servingman.)

Juliet, the County stays.

NURSE. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

(Exeunt.)

Scene 4

Without Capulet’s house.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other maskers, and torchbearers.

ROMEO. What, shall this speech51 be spoke for our excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

BENVOLIO. The date is out of such prolixity.52

We’ll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,

Bearing a Tartar’spainted bow of lath,

Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper,53

Nor nowithout-book prologue, faintly spoke

After the prompter, for our entrance.54

But, let them measure us by what they will,

We’ll measure them a measure and be gone.

ROMEO. Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling.55

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

MERCUTIO. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

ROMEO. Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes

With nimble soles. I have a soul56 of lead

So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

MERCUTIO. You are a lover. Borrow Cupid’s wings

And soar with them above a common bound.

ROMEO. I am too soreempiercèd 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. And, to sink in it, should you burden love –

Too great oppression for a tender thing.57

ROMEO. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

MERCUTIO. 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.

A visor for a visor! What care I

What curious eye doth quotedeformities?

Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.58

BENVOLIO. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in

But every man betake him to his legs.

ROMEO. A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart

Tickle the senselessrushes59 with their heels.

For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase –

I’ll be a candle-holder and look on;

The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done.60

MERCUTIO. Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word!

If thou art Dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire61

Of – save your reverence – love, wherein thou stickest

Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

ROMEO. Nay, that’s not so.

MERCUTIO. I mean, sir, in delay

We waste our lights in vain, like lights by day.

Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits

Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

ROMEO. And we mean well in going to this masque,

But ’tis no wit to go.

MERCUTIO. Why, may one ask?

ROMEO. I dreamt a dream tonight.

MERCUTIO. And so did I.

ROMEO. Well, what was yours?

MERCUTIO. That dreamers often lie.

ROMEO. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.62

MERCUTIO. O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.

She is the fairies’ midwife,63 and she comes

In shape no bigger than an agate stone

On the forefinger of an alderman,

Drawn with a team of little atomies

Over men’s noses as they lie asleep.

Her chariot is an empty hazelnut,

Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,

Time out o’mind the fairies’ coachmakers.

Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs;

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;

Her traces, of the smallest spider web;

Her collars, of the moonshine’s watery64 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

Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid.65

And in this state she gallops night by night

Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;

O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream oncurtsies 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 blistersplagues,

Because their breaths with sweetmeatstainted are.

Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,

And then dreams he of smelling out a suit.66

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.67

Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck;

And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,

Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades,

Of healths five fathom deep;68 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 plaits the manes of horses in the night

And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,

Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.69

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.70

This is she –

ROMEO. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!

Thou talkest of nothing.

MERCUTIO. 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 woos

Even now the frozen bosom of the North

And, being angered, puffs away from thence,

Turning his side to the dew-dropping South.

BENVOLIO. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves.

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

ROMEO. 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 despisèd life, closed in my breast,

By some vileforfeit of untimely death.

But He that hath the steerage of my course

Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen!71

BENVOLIO. Strike, drum.

(They march into the house.)

Scene 5

The hall in Capulet’s house.

Musicians waiting. Enter the maskers, march round the hall, and stand aside. Servingmen come forth with napkins.

FIRST SERVINGMAN. Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher72! He scrape a trencher!

SECOND SERVINGMAN. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s hands, and they unwashed too, ’tis a foul thing.

FIRST SERVINGMAN. Away with the joint-stools73; 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.

(Exit Second Servingman.)

Anthony, and Potpan!

(Enter two more Servingmen.)

THIRD SERVINGMAN. Ay, boy, ready.

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

FOURTH SERVINGMAN. We cannot be here and there too.

Cheerly, boys! Be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.74

(Exeunt Third and Fourth Servingmen.)

(Enter Capulet, his wife, Juliet, Tybalt, Nurse, and all the guests and gentlewomen to the maskers.)

CAPULET. Welcome, gentlemen!75 Ladies that have their toes

Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you.

Ah, my mistresses, which of you all

Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty,

She, I’ll swear, hath corns. Am I come near ye now?

Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day

That I have worn a visor and could tell

A whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear,

Such as would please. ’Tis gone, ’tis gone, ’tis gone!

You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play.

(Music plays, and they dance.)

A hall, a hall! Give room! and foot it, girls.

More light, you knaves! and turn the tables up;

And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.

Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-forsport comes well.

Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet,

For you and I are past our dancing days.

How long is’t now since last yourself and I

Were in a mask?

COUSIN CAPULET. By’r Lady,76 thirty years.

CAPULET. What, man? ’Tis not so much, ’tis not so much.

’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,

Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,

Some five-and-twenty years; and then we masked.

COUSIN CAPULET. ’Tis more, ’tis more. His son is elder, sir.

His son is thirty.

CAPULET