A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

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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, among view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me.--Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair
Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, [gives a paper] 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 learned:--in good time!
[Enter Benvolio and Romeo.]
Benvolio. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd 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 plantain-leaf is excellent for that.
Benvolio. For what, I pray thee?
Romeo. For your broken shin.
Benvolio. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Romeo. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and
tormented and--God-den, good fellow.
Servant. God gi' go-den.--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. [Reads.] 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselmo and
his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his
brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior
Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair assembly. [Gives back the paper]: whither
should they come?
Servant. Up.
Romeo. Whither?
Servant. To supper; to our house.
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Romeo. Whose house?
Servant. My master's.
Romeo. Indeed I should have ask'd you 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.]
Benvolio. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; With all the
admired 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 drown'd, could never die,-- Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my
love? the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
Benvolio. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: But in that
crystal scales let there be weigh'd 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 shows best.
Romeo. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of my own.
[Exeunt.]
Scene III. Room in Capulet's House.
[Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.]
Lady Capulet. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse. Now, by my maidenhea,--at twelve year old,-- 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 remember'd 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.
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Nurse. 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. 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; 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. 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 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. 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 nurs'd: 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 disposition 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 suck'd 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.
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 married
lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies Find written in

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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. 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: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent
gives strength to make it fly.
[Enter a Servant.]
Servant. 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. We follow thee. [Exit Servant.]-- Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
[Exeunt.]
Scene IV. A Street.
[Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers; Torch-bearers, and others.]
Romeo. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology?
Benvolio. 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 am not for this ambling; 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 soul 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 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. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing.
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: [Putting on a mask.] A visard for a visard! what care I What curious eye
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doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
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 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. 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. Nay, that's not so.
Mercutio. 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. And we mean well, in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go.
Mercutio. Why, may one ask?
Romeo. I dreamt a dream to-night.
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.
Mercutio. 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. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talk'st of nothing.
Mercutio. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;
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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. 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 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. Strike, drum.
[Exeunt.]
Scene V. A Hall in Capulet's House.
[Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.]
1 Servant. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!
2 Servant. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.
1 Servant. 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!
2 Servant. Ay, boy, ready.
1 Servant. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for in the great chamber.
2 Servant. We cannot be here and there too.--Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
[They retire behind.]
[Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests the Maskers.]
Capulet. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you.--
Ah ha, 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 you now? Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day That I have worn a visard; 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. A hall--a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.-- [Music plays, and
they dance.] More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.--
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport 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?
2 Capulet. By'r Lady, 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 mask'd.
2 Capulet. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty.

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Capulet. Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago.
Romeo. What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?
Servant. I know not, sir.
Romeo. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich
jewel in an Ethiop's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with
crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand And, touching
hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty
till this night.
Tybalt. This, by his voice, should be a Montague.-- Fetch me my rapier, boy:--what, dares the slave Come
hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my
kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Capulet. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?
Tybalt. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; A villain, that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity
this night.
Capulet. Young Romeo, is it?
Tybalt. 'Tis he, that villain, Romeo.
Capulet. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth,
Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town Here
in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take no note of him,-- It is my will; the which if
thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
Tybalt. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him.
Capulet. He shall be endur'd: What, goodman boy!--I say he shall;--go to; Am I the master here, or you? go to.
You'll not endure him!--God shall mend my soul, You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set
cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
Tybalt. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
Capulet. Go to, go to! You are a saucy boy. Is't so, indeed?-- This trick may chance to scathe you,--I know
what: You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.-- Well said, my hearts!--You are a princox; go: Be quiet,
or--More light, more light!--For shame! I'll make you quiet. What!--cheerly, my hearts.
Tybalt. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will
withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.
[Exit.]
Romeo. [To Juliet.] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,-- My lips,
two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints
have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
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Romeo. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Juliet. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Juliet. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Romeo. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd. [Kissing
her.]
Juliet. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Romeo. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! Give me my sin again.
Juliet. You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Romeo. What is her mother?
Nurse. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house. And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous: I
nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal; I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks.
Romeo. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Benvolio. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.
Romeo. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
Capulet. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.-- Is it e'en so?
why then, I thank you all; I thank you, honest gentlemen; good-night.-- More torches here!--Come on then,
let's to bed. Ah, sirrah [to 2 Capulet], by my fay, it waxes late; I'll to my rest.
[Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.]
Juliet. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Juliet. What's he that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
Juliet. What's he that follows there, that would not dance?
Nurse. I know not.
Juliet. Go ask his name: if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding-bed.
Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy.
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Juliet. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious
birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse. What's this? What's this?
Juliet. A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danc'd withal.
[One calls within, 'Juliet.']
Nurse. Anon, anon! Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Chorus.]
Chorus. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which
love groan'd for, and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves
again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's
sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers us'd
to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new beloved anywhere: But passion
lends them power, time means, to meet, Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.
[Exit.]
ACT II.
Scene I. An open place adjoining Capulet's Garden.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
[He climbs the wall and leaps down within it.]
[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]
Benvolio. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
Mercutio. He is wise; And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed.
Benvolio. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio.
Mercutio. Nay, I'll conjure too.-- Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a
sigh: Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but 'Ah me!' pronounce but Love and dove; Speak to my
gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young auburn Cupid, he that shot so
trim When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid!-- He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape is
dead, and I must conjure him.-- I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet
lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy
likeness thou appear to us!
Benvolio. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.