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by William Shakespeare
[ Enter Juliet. ]
JULIET.
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebusâ lodging. Such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runawayâs eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalkâd of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Playâd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
Hood my unmannâd blood, bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold,
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night, come Romeo; come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a ravenâs back.
Come gentle night, come loving black-browâd night,
Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possessâd it; and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoyâd. So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them. O, here comes my Nurse,
And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks
But Romeoâs name speaks heavenly eloquence.
[ Enter Nurse, with cords. ]
Now, Nurse, what news? What hast thou there?
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?
NURSE.
Ay, ay, the cords.
[ Throws them down. ]
JULIET.
Ay me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands?
NURSE.
Ah, well-a-day, heâs dead, heâs dead, heâs dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone.
Alack the day, heâs gone, heâs killâd, heâs dead.
JULIET.
Can heaven be so envious?
NURSE.
Romeo can,
Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo.
Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
JULIET.
What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roarâd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but Ay,
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
I am not I if there be such an I;
Or those eyes shut that make thee answer Ay.
If he be slain, say Ay; or if not, No.
Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
NURSE.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God save the mark!âhere on his manly breast.
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubâd in blood,
All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight.
JULIET.
O, break, my heart. Poor bankrout, break at once.
To prison, eyes; neâer look on liberty.
Vile earth to earth resign; end motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier.
NURSE.
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had.
O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead.
JULIET.
What storm is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughterâd and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord?
Then dreadful trumpet sound the general doom,
For who is living, if those two are gone?
NURSE.
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished,
Romeo that killâd him, he is banished.
JULIET.
O God! Did Romeoâs hand shed Tybaltâs blood?
NURSE.
It did, it did; alas the day, it did.
JULIET.
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical,
Dove-featherâd raven, wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinest show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seemâst,
A damned saint, an honourable villain!
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?
Was ever book containing such vile matter
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace.
NURSE.
Thereâs no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men. All perjurâd,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
Ah, whereâs my man? Give me some aqua vitae.
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo.
JULIET.
Blisterâd be thy tongue
For such a wish! He was not born to shame.
Upon his brow shame is ashamâd to sit;
For âtis a throne where honour may be crownâd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!
NURSE.
Will you speak well of him that killâd your cousin?
JULIET.
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I thy three-hoursâ wife have mangled it?
But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
That villain cousin would have killâd my husband.
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring,
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you mistaking offer up to joy.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain,
And Tybaltâs dead, that would have slain my husband.
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybaltâs death,
That murderâd me. I would forget it fain,
But O, it presses to my memory
Like damned guilty deeds to sinnersâ minds.
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished.
That âbanished,â that one word âbanished,â
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybaltâs death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there.
Or if sour woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rankâd with other griefs,
Why followâd not, when she said Tybaltâs dead,
Thy father or thy mother, nay or both,
Which modern lamentation might have movâd?
But with a rear-ward following Tybaltâs death,
âRomeo is banishedââto speak that word
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead. Romeo is banished,
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that wordâs death, no words can that woe sound.
Where is my father and my mother, Nurse?
NURSE.
Weeping and wailing over Tybaltâs corse.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
JULIET.
Wash they his wounds with tears. Mine shall be spent,
When theirs are dry, for Romeoâs banishment.
Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguilâd,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exilâd.
He made you for a highway to my bed,
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
Come cords, come Nurse, Iâll to my wedding bed,
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead.
NURSE.
Hie to your chamber. Iâll find Romeo
To comfort you. I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night.
Iâll to him, he is hid at Lawrenceâ cell.
JULIET.
O find him, give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell.
[ Exeunt. ]