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Romeo and Juliet
Romeo and Juliet
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Script of Act I Romeo and Juliet
The play by William Shakespeare
Introduction
This section contains the script of Act I of Romeo and Juliet the play by William Shakespeare. The enduring works of William Shakespeare feature many famous and well loved characters. Make a note of any unusual words that you encounter whilst reading the script of Romeo and Juliet and check their definition in the Shakespeare Dictionary The script of Romeo and Juliet is extremely long. To reduce the time to load the script of the play, and for ease in accessing specific sections of the script, we have separated the text of Romeo and Juliet into Acts. Please click Romeo and Juliet Script to access further Acts.
Script / Text of Act I Romeo and Juliet
PROLOGUE
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
SCENE I. Verona. A public place.
Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers
SAMPSON
Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
GREGORY
No, for then we should be colliers.
SAMPSON
I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
GREGORY
Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
SAMPSON
I strike quickly, being moved.
GREGORY
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
SAMPSON
A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
GREGORY
To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
SAMPSON
A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
GREGORY
That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
to the wall.
SAMPSON
True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
to the wall.
GREGORY
The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
SAMPSON
'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
maids, and cut off their heads.
GREGORY
The heads of the maids?
SAMPSON
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
take it in what sense thou wilt.
GREGORY
They must take it in sense that feel it.
SAMPSON
Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
GREGORY
'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes
two of the house of the Montagues.
SAMPSON
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
GREGORY
How! turn thy back and run?
SAMPSON
Fear me not.
GREGORY
No, marry; I fear thee!
SAMPSON
Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
GREGORY
I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
they list.
SAMPSON
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR
ABRAHAM
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON
I do bite my thumb, sir.
ABRAHAM
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON
[Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say
ay?
GREGORY
No.
SAMPSON
No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
bite my thumb, sir.
GREGORY
Do you quarrel, sir?
ABRAHAM
Quarrel sir! no, sir.
SAMPSON
If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.
ABRAHAM
No better.
SAMPSON
Well, sir.
GREGORY
Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
SAMPSON
Yes, better, sir.
ABRAHAM
You lie.
SAMPSON
Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
They fight
Enter BENVOLIO
BENVOLIO
Part, fools!
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
Beats down their swords
Enter TYBALT
TYBALT
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
BENVOLIO
I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
TYBALT
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!
They fight
Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs
First Citizen
Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET
CAPULET
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
LADY CAPULET
A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?
CAPULET
My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE
MONTAGUE
Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.
LADY MONTAGUE
Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
Enter PRINCE, with Attendants
PRINCE
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
You Capulet; shall go along with me:
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO
MONTAGUE
Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
BENVOLIO
Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part them: in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head and cut the winds,
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted either part.
LADY MONTAGUE
O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
BENVOLIO
Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth from the city's side,
So early walking did I see your son:
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I, measuring his affections by my own,
That most are busied when they're most alone,
Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
MONTAGUE
Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself,
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
BENVOLIO
My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
MONTAGUE
I neither know it nor can learn of him.
BENVOLIO
Have you importuned him by any means?
MONTAGUE
Both by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself--I will not say how true--
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
We would as willingly give cure as know.
Enter ROMEO
BENVOLIO
See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
MONTAGUE
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE
BENVOLIO
Good-morrow, cousin.
ROMEO
Is the day so young?
BENVOLIO
But new struck nine.
ROMEO
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
BENVOLIO
It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
ROMEO
Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
BENVOLIO
In love?
ROMEO
Out--
BENVOLIO
Of love?
ROMEO
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
BENVOLIO
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
ROMEO
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?
BENVOLIO
No, coz, I rather weep.
ROMEO
Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO
At thy good heart's oppression.
ROMEO
Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.
BENVOLIO
Soft! I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
ROMEO
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
BENVOLIO
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
ROMEO
What, shall I groan and tell thee?
BENVOLIO
Groan! why, no.
But sadly tell me who.
ROMEO
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
BENVOLIO
I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
ROMEO
A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.
BENVOLIO
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
ROMEO
Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
That when she dies with beauty dies her store.
BENVOLIO
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
ROMEO
She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
For beauty starved with her severity
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair:
She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
BENVOLIO
Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.
ROMEO
O, teach me how I should forget to think.
BENVOLIO
By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.
ROMEO
'Tis the way
To call hers exquisite, in question more:
These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.
BENVOLIO
I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Exeunt
SCENE II. A street.
Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant
CAPULET
But Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.
PARIS
Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
CAPULET
But saying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world;
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
PARIS
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
CAPULET
And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be:
Which on more view, of many mine being one
May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
Come, go with me.
To Servant, giving a paper
Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS
Servant
Find them out whose names are written here! It is
written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
sent to find those persons whose names are here
writ, and can never find what names the writing
person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.
Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO
BENVOLIO
Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
ROMEO
Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.
BENVOLIO
For what, I pray thee?
ROMEO
For your broken shin.
BENVOLIO
Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
ROMEO
Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.
Servant
God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?
ROMEO
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
Servant
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
pray, can you read any thing you see?
ROMEO
Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
Servant
Ye say honestly: rest you merry!
ROMEO
Stay, fellow; I can read.
Reads
'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
assembly: whither should they come?
Servant
Up.
ROMEO
Whither?
Servant
To supper; to our house.
ROMEO
Whose house?
Servant
My master's.
ROMEO
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
Servant
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
Rest you merry!
Exit
BENVOLIO
At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
With all the admired beauties of Verona:
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
ROMEO
When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
And these, who often drown'd could never die,
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
BENVOLIO
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself poised with herself in either eye:
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid
That I will show you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
ROMEO
I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
Exeunt
SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse
LADY CAPULET
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
Enter JULIET
JULIET
How now! who calls?
Nurse
Your mother.
JULIET
Madam, I am here.
What is your will?
LADY CAPULET
This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
LADY CAPULET
She's not fourteen.
Nurse
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
LADY CAPULET
A fortnight and odd days.
Nurse
Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me: but, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge:
And since that time it is eleven years;
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about;
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband--God be with his soul!
A' was a merry man--took up the child:
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
I war
Romeo and Juliet
Romeo and Juliet
Site Map Page Back Play Index Refer a Friend
Script of Act I Romeo and Juliet
The play by William Shakespeare
Introduction
This section contains the script of Act I of Romeo and Juliet the play by William Shakespeare. The enduring works of William Shakespeare feature many famous and well loved characters. Make a note of any unusual words that you encounter whilst reading the script of Romeo and Juliet and check their definition in the Shakespeare Dictionary The script of Romeo and Juliet is extremely long. To reduce the time to load the script of the play, and for ease in accessing specific sections of the script, we have separated the text of Romeo and Juliet into Acts. Please click Romeo and Juliet Script to access further Acts.
Script / Text of Act I Romeo and Juliet
PROLOGUE
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
SCENE I. Verona. A public place.
Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers
SAMPSON
Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
GREGORY
No, for then we should be colliers.
SAMPSON
I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
GREGORY
Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
SAMPSON
I strike quickly, being moved.
GREGORY
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
SAMPSON
A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
GREGORY
To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
SAMPSON
A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
GREGORY
That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
to the wall.
SAMPSON
True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
to the wall.
GREGORY
The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
SAMPSON
'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
maids, and cut off their heads.
GREGORY
The heads of the maids?
SAMPSON
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
take it in what sense thou wilt.
GREGORY
They must take it in sense that feel it.
SAMPSON
Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
GREGORY
'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes
two of the house of the Montagues.
SAMPSON
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
GREGORY
How! turn thy back and run?
SAMPSON
Fear me not.
GREGORY
No, marry; I fear thee!
SAMPSON
Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
GREGORY
I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
they list.
SAMPSON
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR
ABRAHAM
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON
I do bite my thumb, sir.
ABRAHAM
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON
[Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say
ay?
GREGORY
No.
SAMPSON
No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
bite my thumb, sir.
GREGORY
Do you quarrel, sir?
ABRAHAM
Quarrel sir! no, sir.
SAMPSON
If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.
ABRAHAM
No better.
SAMPSON
Well, sir.
GREGORY
Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
SAMPSON
Yes, better, sir.
ABRAHAM
You lie.
SAMPSON
Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
They fight
Enter BENVOLIO
BENVOLIO
Part, fools!
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
Beats down their swords
Enter TYBALT
TYBALT
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
BENVOLIO
I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
TYBALT
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!
They fight
Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs
First Citizen
Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET
CAPULET
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
LADY CAPULET
A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?
CAPULET
My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE
MONTAGUE
Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.
LADY MONTAGUE
Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
Enter PRINCE, with Attendants
PRINCE
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
You Capulet; shall go along with me:
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO
MONTAGUE
Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
BENVOLIO
Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part them: in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head and cut the winds,
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted either part.
LADY MONTAGUE
O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
BENVOLIO
Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth from the city's side,
So early walking did I see your son:
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I, measuring his affections by my own,
That most are busied when they're most alone,
Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
MONTAGUE
Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself,
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
BENVOLIO
My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
MONTAGUE
I neither know it nor can learn of him.
BENVOLIO
Have you importuned him by any means?
MONTAGUE
Both by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself--I will not say how true--
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
We would as willingly give cure as know.
Enter ROMEO
BENVOLIO
See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
MONTAGUE
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE
BENVOLIO
Good-morrow, cousin.
ROMEO
Is the day so young?
BENVOLIO
But new struck nine.
ROMEO
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
BENVOLIO
It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
ROMEO
Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
BENVOLIO
In love?
ROMEO
Out--
BENVOLIO
Of love?
ROMEO
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
BENVOLIO
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
ROMEO
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?
BENVOLIO
No, coz, I rather weep.
ROMEO
Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO
At thy good heart's oppression.
ROMEO
Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.
BENVOLIO
Soft! I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
ROMEO
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
BENVOLIO
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
ROMEO
What, shall I groan and tell thee?
BENVOLIO
Groan! why, no.
But sadly tell me who.
ROMEO
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
BENVOLIO
I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
ROMEO
A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.
BENVOLIO
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
ROMEO
Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
That when she dies with beauty dies her store.
BENVOLIO
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
ROMEO
She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
For beauty starved with her severity
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair:
She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
BENVOLIO
Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.
ROMEO
O, teach me how I should forget to think.
BENVOLIO
By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.
ROMEO
'Tis the way
To call hers exquisite, in question more:
These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.
BENVOLIO
I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Exeunt
SCENE II. A street.
Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant
CAPULET
But Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.
PARIS
Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
CAPULET
But saying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world;
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
PARIS
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
CAPULET
And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be:
Which on more view, of many mine being one
May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
Come, go with me.
To Servant, giving a paper
Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS
Servant
Find them out whose names are written here! It is
written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
sent to find those persons whose names are here
writ, and can never find what names the writing
person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.
Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO
BENVOLIO
Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
ROMEO
Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.
BENVOLIO
For what, I pray thee?
ROMEO
For your broken shin.
BENVOLIO
Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
ROMEO
Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.
Servant
God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?
ROMEO
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
Servant
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
pray, can you read any thing you see?
ROMEO
Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
Servant
Ye say honestly: rest you merry!
ROMEO
Stay, fellow; I can read.
Reads
'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
assembly: whither should they come?
Servant
Up.
ROMEO
Whither?
Servant
To supper; to our house.
ROMEO
Whose house?
Servant
My master's.
ROMEO
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
Servant
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
Rest you merry!
Exit
BENVOLIO
At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
With all the admired beauties of Verona:
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
ROMEO
When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
And these, who often drown'd could never die,
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
BENVOLIO
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself poised with herself in either eye:
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid
That I will show you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
ROMEO
I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
Exeunt
SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse
LADY CAPULET
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
Enter JULIET
JULIET
How now! who calls?
Nurse
Your mother.
JULIET
Madam, I am here.
What is your will?
LADY CAPULET
This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
LADY CAPULET
She's not fourteen.
Nurse
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
LADY CAPULET
A fortnight and odd days.
Nurse
Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me: but, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge:
And since that time it is eleven years;
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about;
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband--God be with his soul!
A' was a merry man--took up the child:
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
I war
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第1个回答 2007-06-01
The play begins with a 14-line prologue in the form of a Shakespearean sonnet. The chorus explains to the audience that the story concerns two noble families of Verona, the Capulets and the Montagues, that have feuded for generations. The chorus also tells how the tragic suicide of the lovers "[buries] their parents' strife," ending the conflict therefore it is foreboding.
Act I
Romeo and Juliet statue in Central Park in New York City.
Enlarge
Romeo and Juliet statue in Central Park in New York City.
The action starts with a street-battle between the two families, started by their servants and put down by the Prince of Verona, Escalus. The Prince declares that the heads of the two families (known simply as "Montague" and "Capulet") will be held personally accountable (with their lives) for any further breach of the peace, and disperses the crowd.
Count Paris, a young nobleman, talks to Capulet about marrying his fourteen-year-old daughter, Juliet. Capulet demurs, citing the girl's tender age, and invites him to attract the attention of Juliet during a ball that the family is to hold that night. Meanwhile Juliet's mother tries to persuade her young daughter to accept Paris' wooing during their coming ball. Juliet is not inspired by the idea of marrying Paris — in fact, she admits to not really having considered marriage at all. But, being a dutiful daughter, she accedes to her mother's wishes. This scene also introduces Juliet's nurse, the comic relief of the play, who recounts a bawdy anecdote about Juliet at great length and with much repetition.
In the meantime, Montague and his wife fret to their nephew Benvolio about their son Romeo, who has long been moping for reasons unknown to them. Benvolio promises Montague that he will try to determine the cause. Benvolio queries Romeo and finds that his melancholy has its roots in his unrequited love for a girl named Rosaline (an unseen character). Romeo is infatuated but laments that she will not "ope her lap to saint-seducing gold." Perhaps most frustrating to Romeo is the fact that Rosaline "will not be hit with Cupid's arrow/ She hath Diane's wit". In other words, it's not that she finds Romeo himself objectionable, but that she has foresworn to marry at all (she has vowed not to fall in love, and to die a virgin). Benvolio tries to snap Romeo's ruler, to no avail: despite the good-natured taunts of his fellows, including the witty nobleman Mercutio (who gives his well known Queen Mab speech), Romeo resolves to attend the masquerade at the Capulet house, relying on not being spotted in his costume, in the hopes of meeting up with Rosaline.
Romeo attends the ball as planned, but falls for Juliet as soon as he sees her and quickly forgets Rosaline. Juliet is instantly taken by Romeo, and the two youths proclaim their love for one another with their "love sonnet" in which Romeo compares himself to a pilgrim and Juliet to the saint which is the object of his pilgrimage.
Tybalt, Juliet's hot-blooded cousin, recognizes Romeo under his disguise and calls for his sword. Capulet, however, speaks kindly of Romeo and, having resolved that his family will not be first to violate the Prince's decree, sternly forbids Tybalt from confronting Romeo. Tybalt stalks off in a huff. Before the ball ends, the Nurse identifies Juliet for Romeo, and (separately) identifies Romeo for Juliet.
Act II
Emboldened, Romeo risks his life by remaining on the Capulet estate after the party breaks up, to catch another glimpse of Juliet at her room, and in the famous balcony scene, the two eloquently declare their love for each other. This scene contains arguably the most famous line of Romeo and Juliet, "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" spoken by Juliet to the darkness ("wherefore" means "why" — Juliet is lamenting that Romeo is a Montague, and thus her enemy). The young lovers decide to marry without informing their parents, because they would obviously disallow it due to the planned union between Paris and Juliet.
Romeo and Juliet by Ford Madox Brown
Enlarge
Romeo and Juliet by Ford Madox Brown
Juliet sends the nurse to find Romeo. Accompanied by one Peter, who carries her fan, the nurse exchanges some spicy insults with the bawdy Mercutio.
With the help of Juliet's Nurse and the Franciscan Friar Lawrence (Friar Laurence), the two are wedded the next day. The Friar performs the ceremony, hoping to bring the two families to peace with each other through their mutual union.
Act III
Events take a darker turn. Tybalt, still smarting from the incident at the Capulets' ball, had previously sent a letter to the Montagues challenging Romeo to a duel. Meeting Romeo by happenstance, he attempts to provoke a fight. Romeo refuses to fight Tybalt because they are now kinsmen — although Tybalt doesn't know it, as he doesn't yet know that Romeo has married Juliet. Mercutio, who is also unaware of the marriage, is angered by Tybalt's insolence – and Romeo's seeming indifference – and takes up the challenge himself. In the ensuing swordplay, Romeo attempts to allay Mercutio's anger, momentarily placing his arm around him. By doing so, however, Romeo inadvertently pulls Mercutio into Tybalt's rapier, fatally wounding him. Mercutio dies, wishing "a plague a'both your houses," before he passes. Romeo, in his anger, pursues and slays Tybalt. Although under the Prince of Verona's proclamation Romeo (and Montague and Capulet, as well) would be subject to the death penalty, the Prince instead fines the head of each house, and reduces Romeo's punishment to exile in recognition that Tybalt had killed Mercutio, who had not only been Romeo's friend but a kinsman of the Prince. Romeo flees to Mantua after attempting to see Juliet one last time.
Just after Romeo leaves Juliet's bedroom unseen, Capulet enters to tell the news to his daughter that he has arranged for her to marry Paris in three days' time, to console her perceived mourning for Tybalt, although it is in fact Romeo's exile that she mourns. Juliet is unwilling to enter this arranged marriage, telling her parents that she will not marry, and when she does, "it shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate." Capulet flies into a rage and threatens to disown her if she refuses the marriage.
Act IV
Juliet visits Friar Lawrence and tells him to either find a solution to her problem or she will commit suicide. Friar Lawrence, being a dabbler in herbal medicines and potions, gives Juliet a potion and a plan: the potion will put her into a death-like coma for "two and forty hours" (Act IV. Scene I); she is to take it before her marriage day, and when discovered apparently dead, she will be laid in the family crypt.Meanwhile, the Friar will send a messenger to inform Romeo, so that he can rejoin her when she awakes. The two can then leave for Mantua and live happily ever after. Juliet is at first suspicious of the potion, thinking the Friar may be trying to kill her, but eventually takes it and falls 'asleep'.
Act V
Romeo at Juliet's Deathbed, by Johann Heinrich Füssli
Enlarge
Romeo at Juliet's Deathbed, by Johann Heinrich Füssli
The messenger of Friar Lawrence does not reach Romeo, due to a quarantine. Instead, Romeo learns of Juliet's supposed "death" from his manservant Balthasar. Grief-stricken, he buys strong poison from an Apocotheary, returns to Verona in secret, and goes to the crypt, determined to join Juliet in death. There he encounters Paris, who has also come to mourn privately for his lost love. Paris assumes that Romeo has come to defile the Capulets' crypt and challenges him to a duel. Romeo kills Paris, and then drinks the poison after seeing Juliet one last time, exclaiming: " O true Apocotheary! Thy drugs are quick! Thus with a kiss I die."
At this point Juliet awakes and, seeing the dead, seeks answers. Friar Lawrence arrives, and tries to convince Juliet to come with him, but she refuses. He is frightened by a noise, and leaves Juliet alone in the crypt. The pain and shock of Romeo's death is too much for Juliet, and she stabs herself with his dagger. The two lovers lie dead together.
The two feuding families (except Lady Montague, who had died of grief over her son's banishment) and the Prince converge upon the tomb and are horrified to find Romeo, Juliet, and Paris all lying dead. Friar Lawrence reveals the love and secret marriage of Romeo and Juliet. The families are reconciled by their children's deaths and agree to end their violent feud, as foretold by the prologue. The play ends with the Prince's elegiac lamentation:
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punishèd;
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Act I
Romeo and Juliet statue in Central Park in New York City.
Enlarge
Romeo and Juliet statue in Central Park in New York City.
The action starts with a street-battle between the two families, started by their servants and put down by the Prince of Verona, Escalus. The Prince declares that the heads of the two families (known simply as "Montague" and "Capulet") will be held personally accountable (with their lives) for any further breach of the peace, and disperses the crowd.
Count Paris, a young nobleman, talks to Capulet about marrying his fourteen-year-old daughter, Juliet. Capulet demurs, citing the girl's tender age, and invites him to attract the attention of Juliet during a ball that the family is to hold that night. Meanwhile Juliet's mother tries to persuade her young daughter to accept Paris' wooing during their coming ball. Juliet is not inspired by the idea of marrying Paris — in fact, she admits to not really having considered marriage at all. But, being a dutiful daughter, she accedes to her mother's wishes. This scene also introduces Juliet's nurse, the comic relief of the play, who recounts a bawdy anecdote about Juliet at great length and with much repetition.
In the meantime, Montague and his wife fret to their nephew Benvolio about their son Romeo, who has long been moping for reasons unknown to them. Benvolio promises Montague that he will try to determine the cause. Benvolio queries Romeo and finds that his melancholy has its roots in his unrequited love for a girl named Rosaline (an unseen character). Romeo is infatuated but laments that she will not "ope her lap to saint-seducing gold." Perhaps most frustrating to Romeo is the fact that Rosaline "will not be hit with Cupid's arrow/ She hath Diane's wit". In other words, it's not that she finds Romeo himself objectionable, but that she has foresworn to marry at all (she has vowed not to fall in love, and to die a virgin). Benvolio tries to snap Romeo's ruler, to no avail: despite the good-natured taunts of his fellows, including the witty nobleman Mercutio (who gives his well known Queen Mab speech), Romeo resolves to attend the masquerade at the Capulet house, relying on not being spotted in his costume, in the hopes of meeting up with Rosaline.
Romeo attends the ball as planned, but falls for Juliet as soon as he sees her and quickly forgets Rosaline. Juliet is instantly taken by Romeo, and the two youths proclaim their love for one another with their "love sonnet" in which Romeo compares himself to a pilgrim and Juliet to the saint which is the object of his pilgrimage.
Tybalt, Juliet's hot-blooded cousin, recognizes Romeo under his disguise and calls for his sword. Capulet, however, speaks kindly of Romeo and, having resolved that his family will not be first to violate the Prince's decree, sternly forbids Tybalt from confronting Romeo. Tybalt stalks off in a huff. Before the ball ends, the Nurse identifies Juliet for Romeo, and (separately) identifies Romeo for Juliet.
Act II
Emboldened, Romeo risks his life by remaining on the Capulet estate after the party breaks up, to catch another glimpse of Juliet at her room, and in the famous balcony scene, the two eloquently declare their love for each other. This scene contains arguably the most famous line of Romeo and Juliet, "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" spoken by Juliet to the darkness ("wherefore" means "why" — Juliet is lamenting that Romeo is a Montague, and thus her enemy). The young lovers decide to marry without informing their parents, because they would obviously disallow it due to the planned union between Paris and Juliet.
Romeo and Juliet by Ford Madox Brown
Enlarge
Romeo and Juliet by Ford Madox Brown
Juliet sends the nurse to find Romeo. Accompanied by one Peter, who carries her fan, the nurse exchanges some spicy insults with the bawdy Mercutio.
With the help of Juliet's Nurse and the Franciscan Friar Lawrence (Friar Laurence), the two are wedded the next day. The Friar performs the ceremony, hoping to bring the two families to peace with each other through their mutual union.
Act III
Events take a darker turn. Tybalt, still smarting from the incident at the Capulets' ball, had previously sent a letter to the Montagues challenging Romeo to a duel. Meeting Romeo by happenstance, he attempts to provoke a fight. Romeo refuses to fight Tybalt because they are now kinsmen — although Tybalt doesn't know it, as he doesn't yet know that Romeo has married Juliet. Mercutio, who is also unaware of the marriage, is angered by Tybalt's insolence – and Romeo's seeming indifference – and takes up the challenge himself. In the ensuing swordplay, Romeo attempts to allay Mercutio's anger, momentarily placing his arm around him. By doing so, however, Romeo inadvertently pulls Mercutio into Tybalt's rapier, fatally wounding him. Mercutio dies, wishing "a plague a'both your houses," before he passes. Romeo, in his anger, pursues and slays Tybalt. Although under the Prince of Verona's proclamation Romeo (and Montague and Capulet, as well) would be subject to the death penalty, the Prince instead fines the head of each house, and reduces Romeo's punishment to exile in recognition that Tybalt had killed Mercutio, who had not only been Romeo's friend but a kinsman of the Prince. Romeo flees to Mantua after attempting to see Juliet one last time.
Just after Romeo leaves Juliet's bedroom unseen, Capulet enters to tell the news to his daughter that he has arranged for her to marry Paris in three days' time, to console her perceived mourning for Tybalt, although it is in fact Romeo's exile that she mourns. Juliet is unwilling to enter this arranged marriage, telling her parents that she will not marry, and when she does, "it shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate." Capulet flies into a rage and threatens to disown her if she refuses the marriage.
Act IV
Juliet visits Friar Lawrence and tells him to either find a solution to her problem or she will commit suicide. Friar Lawrence, being a dabbler in herbal medicines and potions, gives Juliet a potion and a plan: the potion will put her into a death-like coma for "two and forty hours" (Act IV. Scene I); she is to take it before her marriage day, and when discovered apparently dead, she will be laid in the family crypt.Meanwhile, the Friar will send a messenger to inform Romeo, so that he can rejoin her when she awakes. The two can then leave for Mantua and live happily ever after. Juliet is at first suspicious of the potion, thinking the Friar may be trying to kill her, but eventually takes it and falls 'asleep'.
Act V
Romeo at Juliet's Deathbed, by Johann Heinrich Füssli
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Romeo at Juliet's Deathbed, by Johann Heinrich Füssli
The messenger of Friar Lawrence does not reach Romeo, due to a quarantine. Instead, Romeo learns of Juliet's supposed "death" from his manservant Balthasar. Grief-stricken, he buys strong poison from an Apocotheary, returns to Verona in secret, and goes to the crypt, determined to join Juliet in death. There he encounters Paris, who has also come to mourn privately for his lost love. Paris assumes that Romeo has come to defile the Capulets' crypt and challenges him to a duel. Romeo kills Paris, and then drinks the poison after seeing Juliet one last time, exclaiming: " O true Apocotheary! Thy drugs are quick! Thus with a kiss I die."
At this point Juliet awakes and, seeing the dead, seeks answers. Friar Lawrence arrives, and tries to convince Juliet to come with him, but she refuses. He is frightened by a noise, and leaves Juliet alone in the crypt. The pain and shock of Romeo's death is too much for Juliet, and she stabs herself with his dagger. The two lovers lie dead together.
The two feuding families (except Lady Montague, who had died of grief over her son's banishment) and the Prince converge upon the tomb and are horrified to find Romeo, Juliet, and Paris all lying dead. Friar Lawrence reveals the love and secret marriage of Romeo and Juliet. The families are reconciled by their children's deaths and agree to end their violent feud, as foretold by the prologue. The play ends with the Prince's elegiac lamentation:
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punishèd;
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
第2个回答 2007-06-01
Juliet sends the nurse to find Romeo. Accompanied by one Peter, who carries her fan, the nurse exchanges some spicy insults with the bawdy Mercutio.
第3个回答 2007-05-30
那些台词都取自莎士比亚的原著。
第4个回答 2007-06-01
买张碟呗
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