Romeo and Juliet Page #14

SCENE V. Capulet's orchard.

Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window

JULIET:

Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO:

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

No nightingale:
look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

JULIET:

Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:

It is some meteor that the sun exhales,

To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua:

Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.

ROMEO:

Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;

I am content, so thou wilt have it so.

I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,

'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;

Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat

The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:

I have more care to stay than will to go:

Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.

How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

JULIET:

It is, it is:
hie hence, be gone, away!

It is the lark that sings so out of tune,

Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.

Some say the lark makes sweet division;

This doth not so, for she divideth us:

Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,

O, now I would they had changed voices too!

Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,

Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,

O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

ROMEO:

More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

Enter Nurse, to the chamber

Nurse

Madam!

JULIET:

Nurse?

Nurse

Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:

The day is broke; be wary, look about.

Exit

JULIET:

Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

ROMEO:

Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

He goeth down

JULIET:

Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!

I must hear from thee every day in the hour,

For in a minute there are many days:

O, by this count I shall be much in years

Ere I again behold my Romeo!

ROMEO:

Farewell!

I will omit no opportunity

That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

JULIET:

O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

ROMEO:

I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve

For sweet discourses in our time to come.

JULIET:

O God, I have an ill-divining soul!

Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,

As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:

Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

ROMEO:

And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:

Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!

Exit

JULIET:

O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:

If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.

That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;

For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,

But send him back.

LADY CAPULET:

[Within] Ho, daughter! are you up?

JULIET:

Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?

Is she not down so late, or up so early?

What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

Enter LADY CAPULET

LADY CAPULET:

Why, how now, Juliet!

JULIET:

Madam, I am not well.

LADY CAPULET:

Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?

What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?

An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;

Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;

But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

JULIET:

Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

LADY CAPULET:

So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend

Which you weep for.

JULIET:

Feeling so the loss,

Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

LADY CAPULET:

Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,

As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

JULIET:

What villain madam?

LADY CAPULET:

That same villain, Romeo.

JULIET:

[Aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.--

God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;

And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

LADY CAPULET:

That is, because the traitor murderer lives.

JULIET:

Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:

Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!

LADY CAPULET:

We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:

Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,

Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,

Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,

That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:

And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

JULIET:

Indeed, I never shall be satisfied

With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--

Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.

Madam, if you could find out but a man

To bear a poison, I would temper it;

That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,

Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors

To hear him named, and cannot come to him.

To wreak the love I bore my cousin

Upon his body that slaughter'd him!

LADY CAPULET:

Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

JULIET:

And joy comes well in such a needy time:

What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

LADY CAPULET:

Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;

One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,

That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.

JULIET:

Madam, in happy time, what day is that?

LADY CAPULET:

Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,

The gallant, young and noble gentleman,

The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,

Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

JULIET:

Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,

He shall not make me there a joyful bride.

I wonder at this haste; that I must wed

Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.

I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,

I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,

It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,

Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!

LADY CAPULET:

Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,

And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter CAPULET and Nurse

CAPULET:

When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;

But for the sunset of my brother's son

It rains downright.

How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?

Evermore showering? In one little body

Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;

For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,

Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,

Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;

Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,

Without a sudden calm, will overset

Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!

Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

LADY CAPULET:

Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.

I would the fool were married to her grave!

CAPULET:

Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.

How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?

Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,

Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

JULIET:

Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:

Proud can I never be of what I hate;

But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

CAPULET:

How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?

'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'

And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you,

Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,

But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,

To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!

You tallow-face!

LADY CAPULET:

Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

JULIET:

Good father, I beseech you on my knees,

Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

CAPULET:

Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!

I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,

Or never after look me in the face:

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;

My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest

That God had lent us but this only child;

But now I see this one is one too much,

And that we have a curse in having her:

Out on her, hilding!

Nurse

God in heaven bless her!

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

CAPULET:

And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,

Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse

I speak no treason.

CAPULET:

O, God ye god-den.

Nurse

May not one speak?

CAPULET:

Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;

For here we need it not.

LADY CAPULET:

You are too hot.

CAPULET:

God's bread! it makes me mad:

Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,

Alone, in company, still my care hath been

To have her match'd: and having now provided

A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,

Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,

Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man;

And then to have a wretched puling fool,

A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,

To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,

I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'

But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you:

Graze where you will you shall not house with me:

Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.

Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:

An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;

And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in

the streets,

For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,

Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:

Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.

Exit

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