Romeo and Juliet Page #7

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you fool!

- Now...

- No, husband, you are too hot.

God's blood,

it does make me mad!

- (SOBS)

- Day, night, month, year!

My constant care...

...has been to have

my only child worthily matched.

And here I find

an educated man

of equal birth

with honorable parts,

with fine estates

and handsome to behold,

and what is my reward?

A puking fool, who answers,

"I'll not wed. I cannot love.

I am too young.

I pray you pardon me."

Now think on this.

Thursday is near.

If you will play the bride,

then are you my daughter

and all is forgot.

If you will not,

then you are mine no more.

Graze where you will.

You shall not house with me.

Beg, starve or hang,

I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,

nor pass to you

the slightest thing that's mine.

I swear to this, my word,

so help me God!

(GASPS)

How can Father speak so

to a child

who loves him better

than she loves herself?

(SOBBING) Oh, oh, God.

Oh, Nurse,

how shall this be prevented?

I have a living husband

here on earth.

What, should I take

a second in a lie

and cast myself

forever into hell?

(SOBBING)

Well, here it is.

Romeo is...

...gone, and cannot come back,

except in stealth

at risk to life and limb.

Given that case,

which will not alter soon...

...I think it best

you marry with the count.

Speakest thou

from thy heart?

And from my soul.

Or the devil take us all.

Amen.

FRIAR LAURENCE:
Oh, Juliet,

I understand your grief.

I strive and strain

to think how I may help.

I know your father's

will is absolute

that Thursday next

you marry with the count.

Why talk of what must be

which cannot be?

(BELL TOLLING)

If you have no solution

to my plight,

then this knife

shall be my deliverer.

Ah, Jesu Maria.

God joined our hearts in bliss,

you joined our hands,

and death is better

than the ruin of all.

So bless this blade,

unless you have a remedy,

and I'll exchange

my honor for my life.

Daughter...

...I do spy a kind of hope,

but it requires

a desperate execution.

You have the strength of will

to kill yourself

rather than marry Paris.

Very well.

You'll need that strength,

and I do know a way.

Rather then marry Paris,

I would jump

from off the battlements

of yonder tower.

Spend the long, dark night

walled in a tomb,

with rotting limbs

and hollow, grinning skulls.

(GRUNTS)

Or order me to lie

in a fresh grave,

and hide myself

inside the corpse's shroud.

Things most hideous

will I gladly do

to keep myself unscarred

for Romeo's love.

Then go home, be merry...

...and agree to marry Paris.

Oh, I am in earnest, Juliet.

For I have knowledge

to concoct a mix

that will unlock you

from your present cell.

If you but find the nerve

to swallow it.

Tomorrow's Thursday.

Now tonight,

make sure you sleep alone.

And send your prying nurse

out of the room.

Lie down upon your bed,

then take this phial...

...and drink the clouded juice

to the last drop.

Soon, soft drowsiness

will close your eyes.

Your pulse will cease,

and there will be

no sign of life within you.

Neither warmth, nor breath,

nor roses in your cheeks

nor on your lips,

but stiff and stark

and every sign of death.

And in this borrowed likeness

of a corpse,

you will continue

for six and 20 hours,

and then awake

as from a pleasant dream.

So Paris,

on his wedding morn,

will come to find his bride

is dead and ripe for burial

in the great vault

where Capulets do lie.

While I will write

with news to Romeo.

He and I will be there

when he will wake you

with a kiss.

And he will carry you

to some far distant place,

where all your anguish

shall become pure joy.

Give me the phial

and talk no more of fear.

Then go.

At dawn tomorrow,

a novice will set out for Mantua

with letters for your lord.

Farewell, dear Friar.

And now, love...

...give me strength.

You said it was

a modest group of friends.

And so it will be.

Peter, what's the news?

Well, we've hired ten cooks

and 20 serving men.

A quiet marriage leads

to speculation.

My daughter has the virtue of

a saint, and I would rather none

- had leave to doubt.

- (SIGHS)

Come here, Nurse.

My lord?

Is Juliet gone to

Friar Laurence's cell?

She is, to make

confession of her sins.

Well, let's hope he may have

found some good in her.

She's here.

NURSE:
And merrier than

when she left.

And where have you been,

my headstrong gadabout?

The holy friar sends

me home to kneel

and ask forgiveness

for my mutiny.

(SIGHS)

Pardon me, dear Father,

I beseech you.

Henceforward,

I will live beneath your rule.

Well said, my daughter.

If you should find Romeo

in morbid grief or feverish,

these herbs will

make him well.

Be sure he's strong

to take the journey home.

But do not fear.

My letter will revive him.

Give me your blessing,

and I will be gone.

God speed your path

and keep you safe from harm.

(HORSE WHINNYING)

Nurse, here is the key

to fetch more spices.

The cook wants dates

and quinces for the pies.

We must a-move on.

Paris will be here.

Get anything we need,

spare not the cost.

My lady and my lord,

get you some rest

or you will not survive

the wedding feast.

What nonsense!

I've been up all night before

for lesser cause than this.

And I know why.

And look to have

no repetition now.

A wife still jealous

after all these years?

Why, 'tis compliment enough

to give me cheer.

- (CLICKING TONGUE)

- Hmm? Hmm?

(LAUGHS)

(NURSE TALKING QUIETLY)

Wife!

Nurse!

- Will nobody obey me?!

- Oh, peace, peace!

Go waken Juliet.

Dress her and trim her.

Pray, bring her down

to compliment the bridegroom

in his choice.

Hmm.

Mistress.

My Juliet?

Oh, still fast asleep?

Come, lady. Come, lamb.

It's time to wake.

Well, you'll profit

from a few hours dreams.

Tonight, Count Paris

will have other plans.

But if your marriage

will not let you rest,

just wait ten years.

You'll sleep all you want.

Heavens,

how sound you slumber.

I must needs wake you.

Lady.

Lady!

(SCREAMING)

Oh, no!

(SCREAMING CONTINUES)

(SOBBING)

(DOOR OPENS)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(LAUGHTER)

Come, is my bride ready

to go to church?

Ready to go,

but never to return.

My son...

...the night before

your wedding day,

your wife was

stolen from you.

What?

Are you saying she is dead?

Flower as she was...

...Death is now my heir.

My daughter he has married.

I will die and leave him all.

Life, living, all is Death's.

This day had promised

all my happiness...

...and now it shows me

such a sight as this?

Accursed, unhappy,

wretched, hateful day!

The worst that ever dawned.

(SOBBING)

Most woeful day. Never was

so black a day as this.

I am divorced...

...wronged...

...hated...

...killed by Death,

but Death is my future.

He holds all I love.

Death that has killed

my daughter,

ties my tongue

and drains my eyes

and will not let me grieve.

Oh, child.

My soul more than my child.

Dead are you now.

Alack. My child is dead...

...and with my child,

all my joys are buried.

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