A best English romantic story - Romeo and Juliet

[romantic_story]

Romeo. Go to; I say you shall.
Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.
Romeo. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey-wall: Within this hour my man shall be with thee, And bring
thee cords made like a tackled stair; Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret
night. Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains: Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.
Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee!--Hark you, sir.
Romeo. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Romeo. I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.
Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady.--Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing,--O, there's a
nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a
very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you,
when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both
with a letter?
Romeo. Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.
Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the dog: no; I know it begins with some other letter:--and
she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.
Romeo. Commend me to thy lady.
Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo.]--Peter!
Peter. Anon?
Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before.
[Exeunt.]
Scene V. Capulet's Garden.
[Enter Juliet.]
Juliet. The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; In half an hour she promis'd to return. Perchance she
cannot meet him: that's not so.-- O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster
glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over lowering hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves
draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this
day's journey; and from nine till twelve Is three long hours,--yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm
youthful blood, She'd be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to
me: But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.-- O God, she
comes! [Enter Nurse and Peter]. O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.
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[Exit Peter.]
Juliet. Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If
good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face.
Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave awhile;-- Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!
Juliet. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: Nay, come, I pray thee speak;--good, good nurse, speak.
Nurse. Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?
Juliet. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse
that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good or bad? answer to
that; Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?
Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; rhough
his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand and a foot, and a body,--though
they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,--but I'll warrant him as
gentle as a lamb.--Go thy ways, wench; serve God.- -What, have you dined at home?
Juliet. No, no: but all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? what of that?
Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o' t'
other side,--O, my back, my back!-- Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with
jauncing up and down!
Juliet. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome; And, I
warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?
Juliet. Where is my mother?--why, she is within; Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! 'Your love
says, like an honest gentleman,-- 'Where is your mother?'
Nurse. O God's lady dear! Are you so hot? marry,come up, I trow; Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward,do your messages yourself.
Juliet. Here's such a coil!--come, what says Romeo?
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
Juliet. I have.
Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife: Now comes the
wanton blood up in your cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you to church; I must another
way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: I am the drudge,
and toil in your delight; But you shall bear the burden soon at night. Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
Juliet. Hie to high fortune!--honest nurse, farewell.
[Exeunt.]
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Scene VI. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.]
Friar. 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. 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. 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.
[Enter Juliet.]
Juliet. Good-even to my ghostly confessor.
Friar. 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 imagin'd 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. 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 these 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 him on
the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
Benvolio. Am I like such a fellow?

[romantic_story]

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 full 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 an 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 consortest 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.
Tybalt. Well, peace be with you, sir.--Here comes my man.
[Enter Romeo.]
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 love I bear thee can afford No better term than this,--Thou art a villain.
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 33
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 injur'd 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 mine 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, dry-beat 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 Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.-- Hold, Tybalt!--good
Mercutio!-- [Exeunt Tybalt with his Partizans.]
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!
[Exit Mercutio and Benvolio.]
Romeo. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my
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reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman.--O sweet Juliet, Thy
beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel.
[Re-enter Benvolio.]
Benvolio. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too
untimely here did scorn the earth.
Romeo. This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe others must end.
Benvolio. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Romeo. Alive in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my
conduct now!--
[Re-enter Tybalt.]
Now, Tybalt, take the 'villain' back again That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way
above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company. Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.
Tybalt. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
Romeo. This shall determine that.
[They fight; Tybalt falls.]
Benvolio. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.-- Stand not amaz'd. The prince will
doom thee death If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!
Romeo. O, I am fortune's fool!
Benvolio. Why dost thou stay?
[Exit Romeo.]
[Enter Citizens, &c.]
1 Citizen. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
Benvolio. There lies that Tybalt.
1 Citizen. Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name obey.
[Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their Wives, and others.]
Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
Benvolio. O noble prince. I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: There lies the man, slain
by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
Lady Capulet. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!-- O prince!--O husband!--O, the blood is spill'd Of
my dear kinsman!--Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.-- O cousin, cousin!

[romantic_story]

Prince. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Benvolio. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink How
nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal Your high displeasure.--All this,--uttered With gentle breath, calm look,
knees humbly bow'd,-- Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast; Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And, with a martial
scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats
down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the
life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled: But by-and-by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly
entertain'd revenge, And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain;
And as he fell did Romeo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
Lady Capulet. He is a kinsman to the Montague, Affection makes him false, he speaks not true: Some twenty
of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for justice, which thou,
prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prince. Romeo slew him; he slew Mercutio: Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
Montague. Not Romeo, prince; he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.
Prince. And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all
repent the loss of mine: I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out
abuses, Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. Bear hence
this body, and attend our will: Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. A Room in Capulet's House.
[Enter Juliet.]
Juliet. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging; such a waggoner As Phaeton would
whip you to the west And bring in cloudy night immediately.-- Spread thy close curtain, love-performing
night! That rude eyes may wink, and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.-- Lovers can see to
do their amorous rites By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night.--Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of
stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange
love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night;--come, Romeo;--come, thou day in
night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.-- Come, gentle
night;--come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him
out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.-- O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess'd it; and,
though I am sold, Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient
child that hath new robes, And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, And she brings news; and every
tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.--
[Enter Nurse, with cords.]
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords That Romeo bid thee fetch?
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Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.
[Throws them down.]
Juliet. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
Nurse. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone!-- Alack the
day!--he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
Juliet. Can heaven be so envious?
Nurse. Romeo can, Though heaven cannot.--O Romeo, Romeo!-- Who ever would have thought it?--Romeo!
Juliet. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Hath
Romeo slain himself? say thou but I, And that bare vowel I shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of
cockatrice: I am not I if there be such an I; Or those eyes shut that make thee answer I. If he be slain, say I; or
if not, no: Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- God save the mark!--here on his manly breast. A piteous
corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, All in gore-blood;--I swounded at the
sight.
Juliet. O, break, my heart!--poor bankrout, break at once! To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to
earth resign; end motion here; And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live
to see thee dead!
Juliet. What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? My dear-lov'd
cousin, and my dearer lord?-- Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two
are gone?
Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
Juliet. O God!--did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
Juliet. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend
angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite
to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain!-- O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?-- Was ever book
containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!
Nurse. There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.--
Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae.-- These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo!
Juliet. Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is asham'd to
sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth. O, what a beast was I
to chide at him!
Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor 37
Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
Juliet. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it?-- But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That
villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary
drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: All this is comfort; wherefore weep I, then? Some
word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; But O, it presses to my
memory Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished.' That 'banished,'
that one word 'banished,' Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Was woe enough, if it had ended
there: Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,-- Why follow'd not,
when she said Tybalt's dead, Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, Which modern lamentation might have
mov'd? But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, 'Romeo is banished'--to speak that word Is father,
mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead: 'Romeo is banished,'-- There is no end, no limit, measure,
bound, In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.-- Where is my father and my mother, nurse?
Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Juliet. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil'd, Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd: He made you for a
highway to my bed; But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
Nurse. Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo To comfort you: I wot well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo
will be here at night: I'll to him; he is hid at Lawrence' cell.
Juliet. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell.
[Exeunt.]
Scene III. Friar Lawrence's cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence.]
Friar. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. Affliction is enanmour'd of thy parts, And thou art
wedded to calamity.
[Enter Romeo.]
Romeo. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I
yet know not?
Friar. Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company: I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
Romeo. What less than doomsday is the prince's doom?
Friar. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,-- Not body's death, but body's banishment.
Romeo. Ha, banishment? be merciful, say death; For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than
death; do not say banishment.
Friar. Hence from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.