A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

[romantic_story]

Mercutio. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle, Of some strange
nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; That were some spite: my invocation Is
fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him.
Benvolio. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his
love, and best befits the dark.
Mercutio. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his
mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.-- Romeo, good night.--I'll to my
truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go?
Benvolio. Go then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. Capulet's Garden.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.-- [Juliet appears above at a window.] But soft! what light
through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!-- Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious
moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid,
since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.-- It is
my lady; O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!-- She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? Her
eye discourses, I will answer it.-- I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the
heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her
eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a
lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it
were not night.-- See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I
might touch that cheek!
Juliet. Ah me!
Romeo. She speaks:-- O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to
gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Juliet. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt
not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Romeo. [Aside.] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Juliet. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;-- Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is
nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's
in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not
Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title:--Romeo, doff thy name; And for
that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
Romeo. I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Juliet. What man art thou that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel?
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 21
Romeo. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it
is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Juliet. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou
not Romeo, and a Montague?
Romeo. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.
Juliet. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb; And the
place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
Romeo. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out: And what
love can do, that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
Juliet. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Romeo. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am
proof against their enmity.
Juliet. I would not for the world they saw thee here.
Romeo. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And, but thou love me, let them find me here. My life
were better ended by their hate Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Juliet. By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
Romeo. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot;
yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.
Juliet. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face; Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that
which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form,fain, fain deny What I have spoke; but
farewell compliment! Dost thou love me, I know thou wilt say Ay; And I will take thy word: yet, if thou
swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost
love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say
thee nay, So thou wilt woo: but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore
thou mayst think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more
cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was
'ware, My true-love passion: therefore pardon me; And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark
night hath so discovered.
Romeo. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,--
Juliet. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy
love prove likewise variable.
Romeo. What shall I swear by?
Juliet. Do not swear at all; Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll
believe thee.
Romeo. If my heart's dear love,--
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 22
Juliet. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night; It is too rash, too
unadvis'd, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say It lightens. Sweet, good
night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
Romeo. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Juliet. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
Romeo. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
Juliet. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again.
Romeo. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?
Juliet. But to be frank and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have; My bounty is as
boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. I hear
some noise within: dear love, adieu!-- [Nurse calls within.] Anon, good nurse!--Sweet Montague, be true. Stay
but a little, I will come again.
[Exit.]
Romeo. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to
be substantial.
[Enter Juliet above.]
Juliet. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose
marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt
perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.
Nurse. [Within.] Madam!
Juliet. I come anon.-- But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee,--
Nurse. [Within.] Madam!
Juliet. By-and-by I come:-- To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send.
Romeo. So thrive my soul,--
Juliet. A thousand times good night!
[Exit.]
Romeo. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light!-- Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their
books; But love from love, towards school with heavy looks.
[Retirong slowly.]
[Re-enter Juliet, above.]

[romantic_story]

Juliet. Hist! Romeo, hist!--O for a falconer's voice To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse
and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse
than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name.
Romeo. It is my soul that calls upon my name: How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest
music to attending ears!
Juliet. Romeo!
Romeo. My dear?
Juliet. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee?
Romeo. At the hour of nine.
Juliet. I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Romeo. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Juliet. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.
Romeo. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
Juliet. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no farther than a wanton's bird; That lets it hop a
little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So
loving-jealous of his liberty.
Romeo. I would I were thy bird.
Juliet. Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such
sweet sorrow That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
[Exit.]
Romeo. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!-- Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.
[Exit.]
Scene III. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket.]
Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels: Non, ere the sun
advance his burning eye, The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; What is her
burying gave, that is her womb: And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom
find; Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful
grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities: For naught so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give; Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from
true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 24
dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power: For this,
being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed
kings encamp them still In man as well as herbs,--grace and rude will; And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo. Good morrow, father!
Friar. Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?-- Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon
to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges sleep will
never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art uprous'd with some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I
hit it right,-- Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Romeo. That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
Friar. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Romeo. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Friar. That's my good son: but where hast thou been then?
Romeo. I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy; Where, on a sudden, one
hath wounded me That's by me wounded. Both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies; I bear no
hatred, blessed man; for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Friar. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Romeo. Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: As mine on hers,
so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, save what thou must combine By holy marriage: when, and where,
and how We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, That thou
consent to marry us to-day.
Friar. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken?
young men's love, then, lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine Hath
wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it
doth not taste! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears; Lo,
here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: If e'er thou wast thyself, and
these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline; And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence
then,-- Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Romeo. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Friar. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Romeo. And bad'st me bury love.
Friar. Not in a grave To lay one in, another out to have.
Romeo. I pray thee chide not: she whom I love now Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; The other
did not so.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 25
Friar. O, she knew well Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. But come, young waverer, come go
with me, In one respect I'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households'
rancour to pure love.
Romeo. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Friar. Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast.
[Exeunt.]
Scene IV. A Street.
[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]
Mercutio. Where the devil should this Romeo be?-- Came he not home to-night?
Benvolio. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
Mercutio. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so that he will sure run mad.
Benvolio. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mercutio. A challenge, on my life.
Benvolio. Romeo will answer it.
Mercutio. Any man that can write may answer a letter.
Benvolio. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.
Mercutio. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear
with a love song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to
encounter Tybalt?
Benvolio. Why, what is Tybalt?
Mercutio. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as
you sing prick-song--keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in
your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house,--of the
first and second cause: ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay.--
Benvolio. The what?
Mercutio. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents!--'By Jesu, a very
good blade!--a very tall man!--a very good whore!'--Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we
should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moi's, who stand so
much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons!
Benvolio. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!
Mercutio. Without his roe, like a dried herring.--O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!--Now is he for the
numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench,--marry, she had a better love to

[romantic_story]

be-rhyme her; Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gypsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a gray eye or
so, but not to the purpose,--
[Enter Romeo.]
Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly
last night.
Romeo. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
Mercutio. The slip, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?
Romeo. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
Mercutio. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
Romeo. Meaning, to court'sy.
Mercutio. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Romeo. A most courteous exposition.
Mercutio. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Romeo. Pink for flower.
Mercutio. Right.
Romeo. Why, then is my pump well-flowered.
Mercutio. Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump;that, when the single sole of it is
worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, sole singular.
Romeo. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!
Mercutio. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.
Romeo. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match.
Mercutio. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one
of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the goose?
Romeo. Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there for the goose.
Mercutio. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Romeo. Nay, good goose, bite not.
Mercutio. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.
Romeo. And is it not, then, well served in to a sweet goose?
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Mercutio. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!
Romeo. I stretch it out for that word broad: which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
Mercutio. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; not
art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs
lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.
Benvolio. Stop there, stop there.
Mercutio. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
Benvolio. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
Mercutio. O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and
meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.
Romeo. Here's goodly gear!
[Enter Nurse and Peter.]
Mercutio. A sail, a sail, a sail!
Benvolio. Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!
Peter. Anon.
Nurse. My fan, Peter.
Mercutio. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mercutio. God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good-den?
Mercutio. 'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you!
Romeo. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.
Nurse. By my troth, it is well said;--for himself to mar, quoth 'a?--Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I
may find the young Romeo?
Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you
sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
Nurse. You say well.
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Mercutio. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely, wisely.
Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
Benvolio. She will indite him to some supper.
Mercutio. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
Romeo. What hast thou found?
Mercutio. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
[Sings.] An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in Lent; But a hare that is hoar Is too much
for a score When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.
Romeo. I will follow you.
Mercutio. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,-- [singing] lady, lady, lady.
[Exeunt Mercutio, and Benvolio.]
Nurse. Marry, farewell!--I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his ropery?
Romeo. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute than he will stand
to in a month.
Nurse. An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such
Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his
skains-mates.--And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure!
Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you:
I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.
Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!--Pray you, sir, a word:
and, as I told you, my young lady bid me enquire you out; what she bade me say I will keep to myself: but
first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of
behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly
it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
Romeo. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,--
Nurse. Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
Romeo. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
Nurse. I will tell her, sir,--that you do protest: which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Romeo. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift This afternoon; And there she shall at Friar Lawrence'
cell Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.
Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.