Romeo and Juliet Page #10

SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO

FRIAR LAURENCE:

So smile the heavens upon this holy act,

That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

ROMEO:

Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,

It cannot countervail the exchange of joy

That one short minute gives me in her sight:

Do thou but close our hands with holy words,

Then love-devouring death do what he dare;

It is enough I may but call her mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE:

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

And in the taste confounds the appetite:

Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Enter JULIET

Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:

A lover may bestride the gossamer

That idles in the wanton summer air,

And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

JULIET:

Good even to my ghostly confessor.

FRIAR LAURENCE:

Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

JULIET:

As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

ROMEO:

Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more

To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue

Unfold the imagined happiness that both

Receive in either by this dear encounter.

JULIET:

Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his substance, not of ornament:

They are but beggars that can count their worth;

But my true love is grown to such excess

I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

FRIAR LAURENCE:

Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone

Till holy church incorporate two in one.

Exeunt

ACT III:

SCENE I. A public place.

Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants

BENVOLIO:

I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,

And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;

For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

MERCUTIO:

Thou art like one of those fellows that when he

enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword

upon the table and says 'God send me no need of

thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws

it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

BENVOLIO:

Am I like such a fellow?

MERCUTIO:

Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as

any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as

soon moody to be moved.

BENVOLIO:

And what to?

MERCUTIO:

Nay, an there were two such, we should have none

shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,

thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,

or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou

wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no

other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what

eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?

Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of

meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as

an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a

man for coughing in the street, because he hath

wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:

didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing

his new doublet before Easter? with another, for

tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou

wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

BENVOLIO:

An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man

should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

MERCUTIO:

The fee-simple! O simple!

BENVOLIO:

By my head, here come the Capulets.

MERCUTIO:

By my heel, I care not.

Enter TYBALT and others

TYBALT:

Follow me close, for I will speak to them.

Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

MERCUTIO:

And but one word with one of us? couple it with

something; make it a word and a blow.

TYBALT:

You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you

will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO:

Could you not take some occasion without giving?

TYBALT:

Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--

MERCUTIO:

Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an

thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but

discords:
here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall

make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

BENVOLIO:

We talk here in the public haunt of men:

Either withdraw unto some private place,

And reason coldly of your grievances,

Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

MERCUTIO:

Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO

TYBALT:

Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.

MERCUTIO:

But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:

Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;

Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'

TYBALT:

Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford

No better term than this,--thou art a villain.

ROMEO:

Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee

Doth much excuse the appertaining rage

To such a greeting: villain am I none;

Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.

TYBALT:

Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries

That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

ROMEO:

I do protest, I never injured thee,

But love thee better than thou canst devise,

Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:

And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender

As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.

MERCUTIO:

O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!

Alla stoccata carries it away.

Draws

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

TYBALT:

What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO:

Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine

lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you

shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the

eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher

by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your

ears ere it be out.

TYBALT:

I am for you.

Drawing

ROMEO:

Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO:

Come, sir, your passado.

They fight

ROMEO:

Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.

Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!

Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath

Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:

Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers

MERCUTIO:

I am hurt.

A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

BENVOLIO:

What, art thou hurt?

MERCUTIO:

Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.

Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

Exit Page

ROMEO:

Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO:

No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a

church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for

me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I

am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'

both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a

cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a

rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of

arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I

was hurt under your arm.

ROMEO:

I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO:

Help me into some house, Benvolio,

Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!

They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,

And soundly too:
your houses!

Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO

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