Romeo & Juliet

Two households, both alike in dignity,

in fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

from ancient grudge

break to new mutiny,

where civil blood

makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins

of these two foes,

a pair of star-cross'd lovers

take their life;

whose misadventured

piteous overthrows

doth with their death

bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage

of their death-mark'd 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.

Two households,

both alike in dignity,

in fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

from ancient grudge

break to new mutiny,

where civil blood

makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins

of these two foes,

a pair of star-cross'd lovers

take their life.

A dog of the house of Capulet

moves me!

Pedlar's excrement!

King Urinal! Go rot!

The boys! The boys!

- The quarrel is between our masters.

- And us their men!

Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble!

And I am a pretty piece of flesh!

I am...

a pretty piece of flesh!

- Here comes of the house of Capulet!

- Quarrel, I will back thee.

I will bite my thumb at them, which is

a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Go forth! I will back thee!

- Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

- I... I do bite my thumb, sir.

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

- Is the law of our side if I say ay?

- No!

No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir,

but I bite my thumb, sir!

- Do you quarrel, sir?

- Quarrel, sir? No, sir!

But if you do, sir, I am for you.

I serve as good a man as you.

No better?

Here comes our kinsman. Say better!

- Yes, sir, better!

- You lie!

Draw, if you be men!

Part, fools! You know not what you do.

Put up your Swords!

What, art thou drawn

among these... heartless hinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio,

and look upon thy death.

I do but keep the peace.

Put up thy Sword,

or manage it to part these men with me.

Peace?

Peace?

I hate the word...

as I hate hell,

all Montagues,

and thee.

Bang bang!

Bang.

- Come forth! Come!

- Wait!

Come forth!

From ancient grudge

break to new mutiny...

Do not proceed!

Give me my Longsword, ho!

Thou shalt not stir one foot

to seek a foe.

Rebellious subjects,

enemies to peace!

Throw your mistemper'd weapons

to the ground!

On pain of torture,

from those bloody hands throw your

mistemper'd weapons to the ground!

Three civil brawls,

bred of an airy word by thee,

old Capulet, and Montague,

have thrice disturbed

the quiet of our streets.

If ever you disturb our streets again,

your lives shall pay

the forfeit of the peace.

O where is Romeo? Saw you him today?

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

Madam, underneath the Grove

of Sycamore,

so early walking did I see your son.

Many a morning

hath he there been seen,

with tears augmenting

the fresh morning's dew.

Away from light

steals home my heavy son,

and private in his chamber

pens himself,

shuts up his windows,

locks fair daylight out,

and makes himself an artificial night.

Why, then...

O brawling love, O loving hate!

O anything of nothing first create!

Heavy lightness,

serious vanity.

Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms.

Black and portentous

must this humor prove...

unless good counsel

may the cause remove.

So please you, step aside.

I'll know his grievance

or be much denied.

Come, madam, let's away.

Good morrow, cousin.

Is the day so young?

But new struck, coz.

Ay me, sad hours seem long.

Was that my father that went hence so fast?

It was.

What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

Not having that

which having makes them short.

- In love?

- Out.

- Of love?

- Out of her favor where I am in love.

Alas that love,

so gentle in his view,

should be so tyrannous

and rough in proof.

Alas that love,

whose view is muffled still,

should without eyes

see pathways to his will.

Where shall we dine?

... this costly blood.

Never anger made good guard for itself.

The law hath not been dead...

O me! What fray was here?

- Coz, I...

- Yet tell me not, for I've 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, br...

Dost thou not laugh?

No, coz, I rather weep.

Good heart, at what?

- At thy good heart's oppression.

- Farewell, my coz.

Soft, I will go along. And if you

leave me so, you do me wrong.

But Montague is bound as well as I,

in penalty alike.

And 'tis not hard, I think, for men

as old as we to keep the peace.

Of honorable reckoning are you both,

and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.

But now, my lord,

what say you to my suit?

But saying o'er what I have said before:

my child is yet a stranger in the world.

Let two more summers wither in their pride

ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Younger than she are happy mothers made.

And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

This night I hold an old accustom'd feast.

At my poor house look to behold this night

fresh female buds

that make dark heaven light.

Hear all, all see,

and like her most

whose merit most shall be.

Come, go with me.

Tell me in sadness,

who is it that you love?

In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

I aim'd so near when I supposed you loved.

A right good marksman!

And she's fair I love.

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

Well, in that hit you miss.

She'll not be hit with Cupid's arrow;

nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,

nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.

Then she hath sworn

that she will still live chaste?

She hath, and in that sparing

makes huge waste.

- Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her.

- Teach me how I should forget to think.

By giving liberty unto thine eyes.

Examine other beauties.

Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

Not mad,

but bound more than a madman is.

Shut up in prison, kept without

my food, whipp'd and tormented.

Good day, good fellow.

Now, I'll tell you without asking.

The great rich Capulet

holds an old accustom'd feast.

A fair assembly. Signor Placentio

and his wife and daughters,

the lady widow of Utruvio,

and her lovely nieces Rosaline...

At this same ancient feast of Capulet's

sups the fair Rosaline,

whom thou so loves,

with all the admired beauties of Verona.

If you be not of the House of Montague,

come and crush a cup of wine!

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.

I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,

but to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

Juliet!

Juliet!

Juliet!

Juliet!

Nurse!

Nurse, where's my daughter?

Call her forth to me.

I bade her come. God forbid!

Julieta!

Juliet!

Juliet!

Juliet!

Madam, I am here. What is your will?

O nurse, give us leave awhile.

We must talk in secret.

Nurse, come back again!

I have remembered me.

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