Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
The day is hot.
Blah, blah, blah.
The Capulets abroad!
Ha ha ha!
[groans]
If we meet we shall not 'scape a brawl.
For now these hot days,
is the mad blood stirring.
Mercutio, let's retire.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!
Thou art like one of these fellows
that when he enters the confines of a tavern
claps me his sword on the table,
and says, "God send me no need of thee:"
blah, blah, blah, blah;
and by the operation of the second cup,
draws him on the drawer,
when indeed there is no need.
Am I like such a fellow?
Nay and there were two such
we should have none shortly,
for the one would kill the other.
Why thou hast quarreled with a man
for coughing in the street,
because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep
in the sun.
Blah, blah, blah!
And thou wilt tutor me from quarreling! Hah!
Mercutio...
By my head, here come the Capulets.
By my heel, I care not.
[whistling]
[gurgling]
Gentlemen, good den.
Good den.
A word with one of you.
And but one word with one of us.
Couple it with something,
make it a word and a blow.
[laughter and jeers]
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir,
and you will give me occasion.
Can you not take some occasion without the giving?
Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.
Consort? Ha ha ha!
What dost thou make us minstrels?
Ha ha ha!
An you make minstrels of us,
you look to hear nothing but discords.
Here's my fiddlestick.
Here's that shall make you dance.
Zounds! Consort!
We talk here in the public haunt of men.
Either withdraw unto some private place,
or reason coldly of your grievances,
or else depart;
here all eyes gaze on us.
Men's eyes were made to look,
and let them gaze.
Mercutio!
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Well, peace be with you, sir,
here comes my man.
Mercutio!
Tybalt.
Romeo, the love I bear thee
can afford no better term than this--
thou art a villain.
[whistles]
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 knowest not me.
Ha ha ha!
Boy...
This shall not excuse the injuries thou hast done me,
therefore turn and draw.
I do protest I never injured thee,
but love thee better than thou canst devise.
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love.
And so, good Capulet,
which name I tender as dearly as mine own,
be satisfied.
[crowd murmuring]
Ha ha ha!
No, no.
Ugh!
[laughter]
Ha ha ha!
[Benvolio] No, Mercutio.
O calm, dishonorable, vile submission!
No, Mercutio, no!
Leave me...
Tybalt, you ratcatcher!
What wouldest thou have with me?
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.
Please, good Mercutio.
Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher
by the ears?
Make haste,
lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
I am for you, sir.
Ha ha ha!
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Come, come.
[cheering]
Benvolio, beat down their weapons!
Gentlemen, for shame! Forbear this outrage!
The Prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
in Verona streets.
Tybalt!
Mercutio!
Leave us!
Leave us away, you coward!
Go hang thyself.
[laughter]
[cheering]
Uh!
[men] Ha ha ha!
[cheering stops]
[whistling]
Ha ha ha! Hey!
Ha ha ha!
[crowd groaning]
[cheering]
Ha ha ha!
Hey!
Aah!
Cut his hair, Tybalt!
[cheering]
Ha ha ha!
Hey!
Keep your distance, Tybalt.
Hyah! Hyah! Hyah!
[laughter]
Keep away, coward!
Make haste, Tybalt, we cannot wait all day.
Ah, mother's baby has dropped his sword.
[laughter]
Hey!
Tybalt, no!
Abstain from this crusade!
Tybalt, go!
Mercutio, come down!
Begone, begone...
Fly, Tybalt. Fly away.
[cheering]
I am hurt.
Uh!
I am hurt.
[Benvolio] What! Art thou hurt?
A scratch, a scratch,
marry 'tis enough.
Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much.
No, 'tis not so deep as a well,
nor so wide as a church door,
but 'tis enough;
you ask for me tomorrow,
and you shall find me a grave man.
[cheering]
Where is my page?
Go, villain, and fetch me a surgeon.
Fetch me a surgeon!
Ha ha ha!
Did he hurt you?
Why the devil came you between us?
I was hurt under your arm.
I thought all for the best, I...
[cheering]
Help me into some house, Benvolio,
or I shall faint.
[crowd] Whoa!
Whoa!
Yay!
A plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me.
I have it,
and soundly too...
Your houses!
He jests!
Mercutio!
[laughter]
Romeo, Romeo...
brave Mercutio's dead.
[crowd sneers]
This day's black fate,
on more days doth depend.
This but begins the woe others must end.
He gone in triumph!
And Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
and fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
[cheering]
Tybalt!
Romeo!
Tybalt!
Romeo!
This way!
Tybalt!
Romeo!
Tybalt!
Now, Tybalt...
Take the villain back again,
that late thou gav'st me;
for Mercutio's soul
is but a little way above our heads,
staying for thine to keep him company:
either thou, or l, or both,
must go with him!
Aah!
Let him go! Let him go!
Sword, Romeo.
O thou wretched boy,
that didst consort him here,
shalt with him hence.
This shall determine that.
Hit the feet, Romeo!
Protect the eyes, Romeo!
[cheering and shouting]
Give me your sword.
Watch his feet!
[crowd shouting]
Hyah!
[crowd shouting]
[Romeo] Give me the sword!
The sword!
[crowd shouting]
Romeo! Romeo!
[Tybalt] The sword!
The sword!
Give it to me!
Your sword, Romeo!
The sword, Romeo!
[shouting stops]
Aah!
[Tybalt drops sword]
Tybalt!
[crowd gasps]
Romeo, away, be gone.
The citizens are up.
Stand not amazed,
the Prince will doom thee death,
if thou art taken.
Hence, go away!
Romeo!
Oh, I am fortune's fool!
Oh, Romeo! Away, away!
A curse on the Montagues!
Oh, Tybalt!
Tybalt! Tybalt!
The best friend I had,
oh, courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman,
that ever I should live to see thee dead!
Oh, God!
Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
It did, it did, alas the day, it did!
Oh, nurse,
oh, serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Was ever book containing such vile matter
so fairly bound?
[crying]
There's no faith, no trust,
no honesty in men;
all perjured, all forsworn,
all naught, all dissemblers.
Shame come to Romeo.
Blistered be thy tongue for such a wish.
He was not born to shame.
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit.
Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
[crying]
Poor my lord,
what tongue shall smooth thy name
when I thy three-hours wife
have mangled it?
[crying]
But wherefore villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
Capulet! To the prince!
[crowd shouting]
Speak, Benvolio, speak!
Go on, speak.
Prince! As thou art true,
for blood of ours shed blood of Montague.
[crowd shouting]
Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Tybalt, here slain.
[Lady Capulet] No!
Romeo did speak him fair,
bid him bethink how nice the quarrel was,
and urged withal your high displeasure.
It's true, Prince.
The picture makes him false.
He speaks not true.
[crowd shouting]
I beg for justice,
which thou, Prince must give.
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
[crowd shouting]
Romeo slew him.
He slew Mercutio.
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
Not Romeo, Prince...
He was Mercutio's friend.
His fault concludes but what the law should end.
The life of Tybalt!
And for that offense,
immediately we do exile him hence.
[Prince] Let Romeo hence in haste,
else, when he's found...
That hour is his last.
[crying]
Ah, banishment...
Be merciful, say death!
[banging]
Do not say banishment.
Arise.
One knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
Who's there?
[bang bang]
Who knocks so hard?
Whence come you?
What's your will?
[nurse] Let me come in,
and you shall know my errand.
I come from Lady Juliet.
[Romeo crying]
Welcome then.
Holy friar, o tell me, holy friar,
where's my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
There, on the ground.
With his own tears made drunk.
[Romeo] There is no world without Verona walls.
Even so lies she,
blubbering and weeping,
weeping and blubbering.
[crying]
Stand up!
Stand and you be a man.
For Juliet's sake, for her sake,
rise and stand.
Why should you fall into so deep an 'ole?
Nurse.
Ah, sir, death's the end of all.
Speakst thou of Juliet?
How is it with her?
Does she not think me an old murderer?
Where is she? How doth she?
What says my concealed lady
to our canceled love?
She says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps,
and Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries.
As if that name did murder her.
O tell me, friar, tell me,
in what vile part of this anatomy
doth my name lodge?
Tell me that I may sack the hateful mansion!
[nurse screaming]
Hold thy desperate hand.
By heavens! Leave it!
Thou hast amazed me.
Thou a man?
Thy form cries out thou art.
Thy tears are womanish,
thy wild acts denote the unreasonable fury of a beast.
Hast thou slain Tybalt?
Wilt thou slay thyself, and slay thy lady,
that in thy life lives,
by doing damned hate upon thyself?
Rouse thee, man...
Thy Juliet is alive.
There art thou happy.
Tybalt would kill thee,
but thou slewest Tybalt;
there art thou happy.
The law that threatened death becomes thy friend,
and turns it to exile;
there art thou happy.
A pack of blessings light upon thy back...
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her.
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
for then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
where thou shalt live till we find a time
to blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee home,
with twenty hundred thousand times more joy
than thou wentest forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurse...
Commend me to thy lady,
and bid her hasten all the house to bed,
which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto
Romeo's coming.
[birds chirping]
Wilt thou be gone?
It is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.
Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.
Oh, believe me, love,
it was the nightingale.
It was the lark...
The herald of the morn,
no nightingale.
Night's candles are burnt out...
And jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops.
I must be gone and live,
or stay and die.
Yond light is not daylight...
I know it, I.
Therefore stay yet,
thou needst not to be gone.
Oh, let me be taken,
let me be put to death.
I am content so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye,
nor that is not the lark
whose notes do beat the vaulty heavens
so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay than will to go.
Come death, and welcome, Juliet wills it so.
[lark chirping]
It is...
It is, hie hence, be gone away.
Romeo, it is.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
oh, this doth not so, for she divideth us.
So now be gone,
more light and light it grows.
More light and light,
more dark and dark our woes.
[banging on door]
[nurse] Madam!
Your lady mother comes to your chamber.
Nurse.
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
The day is broke, look about.
Oh, art thou gone so,
my husband, friend?
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
for in a minute there are many days,
o by this count I shall be much in years,
ere I again behold my Romeo.
I will omit no opportunity
that may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Oh, think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
I doubt it not,
and all these woes shall serve
for sweet discourses in our time to come.
Farewell, farewell,
one kiss and I'll descend.
[rooster crows]
Adieu.
Adieu!
[crying]
Oh, God!
[Juliet crying]
We will have vengeance for it,
fear thou not...
[Juliet] No!
Then weep no more.
[Juliet sobbing]
I'll send to one in Mantua,
where that same banished runagate doth live
shall give him such an unaccustomed dram,
that he shall soon keep Tybalt company.
[Juliet] No!
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
Well, then thou hast a careful father,
one who to put thee from thy heaviness
hath sorted out a sudden day of joy.
And joy comes well in such a needy time.
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
the gallant, young and noble prince,
the county Paris, at St. Peter's church,
shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Now by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,
he shall not make me there a joyful bride!
No! No!
So, it is concluded.
Son, Paris.
How now, wife, have you delivered to her our decree?
Ay, sir, but she will none,
she gives you thanks.
[crying]
I would the fool were married to her grave.
Soft... take me with you.
Take me with you, wife.
How? Will she none?
Doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud?
Doth she not count her blessed, unworthy as she is,
that we have wrought so worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
Wretched fool! Let me see her!
Ungrateful baggage!
Say what thou wilt, thou shalt not house with me!
Fie! What, are you mad?
Hang thee, young baggage!
Disobedient wretch!
I tell thee what, get thee to church on Thursday,
or never after look me in the face.
Oh, father, good father, I beseech you.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.
My fingers itch.
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
And why, my lady wisdom?
Hold your tongue!
Good prudence, smatter with your gossips, go!
I speak no treason.
May not one speak?
Speak! You mumbling fool!
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
for here we need it not.
You are too hot.
[crying]
God's bread, it makes me mad.
Thursday's near.
Lay hand on heart, advise.
An you be mine, I give you to my friend;
an you be not,
hang, beg, starve, die in the streets.
No!
For by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
for what is mine shall never do thee good.
Father!
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn.
[sobbing]
Oh, no! No!
Oh sweet, my mother, cast me not away.
Delay this marriage for a month, a week, oh!
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word.
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
Oh, God!
Oh, nurse?
How shall this be prevented?
What sayest thou?
Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.
Faith, here it is.
Romeo is banished...
And all the world to nothing,
that he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you marry with the county.
True.
O he's a lovely gentleman.
Romeo's a dishclout to him.
An eagle, madam, hath not so green,
so quick, so fair an eye as Paris hath.
Beshrew my heart,
I think you happy in this second match.
It excels your first.
For if it did not, your first is dead,
or 'twere as good he were as living here,
and you no use of him.
Speakest thou from thy heart?
And from my soul, too...
Or else beshrew them both.
Amen.
[drawing curtain]
What?
Well, thou hast comforted me marvelous much.
Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
having displeased my father,
to Laurence's cell,
to make confession and to be absolved.
Marry, I shall, and this is wisely done.
Go!
You say you do not know the lady's mind.
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
and therefore have I little talked of love,
for Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
[footsteps]
Oh!
Happily met, my lady and my wife.
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Come you to make confession to this father?
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
or shall I come to you at evening mass?
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
God shield I should disturb devotion.
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse thee.
Till then, adieu...
and keep this holy kiss.
[sobbing]
Oh, shut the door, and when thou hast done so,
come weep with me, past hope,
past care, past help.
Oh, Juliet, I already know thy grief.
Tell me not, Friar, that thou heard'st of this,
unless thou tell me how I can prevent it.
If in thy wisdom thou cans't give no help...
[sobbing]
Hold, daughter.
I do spy a kind of hope,
as that is desperate which we would prevent.
If rather than to marry county Paris,
thou hast the strength of will to--
O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
from off the battlements of any tower,
or bid me go into a new-made grave
and hide me with a dead man in his shroud.
Hold then.
Go home.
Be merry.
Give consent to marry Paris.
Oh, no.
Wednesday is tomorrow.
Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone,
let not the nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this phial, being then in bed...
And this distilling liquor drink thou off...
When presently through all thy veins shall run
a cold and drowsy humor;,
for no pulse shall keep his native progress,
but surcease;
no warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest...
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
thou shalt continue two and forty hours...
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
In the meantime, against thou shalt awake
shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
and hither shall he come,
and he and I will watch thy waking,
and that very night shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
Give me, give me!
Tell me not of fear.
Hold, then.
Get thee gone.
Be strong and prosperous in this resolve.
How now, my headstrong.
Where have you been gadding?
Where I have learnt me
to repent the sin of disobedient opposition.
Pardon me, henceforward l,
I am ever ruled by you.
Why, I am glad on't!
This is well. Stand up.
This is as it should be.
Love give me strength.
Give this letter into the hand of Romeo,
in Mantua.
[woman screaming]
Aah!
My lord! My lord!
She's dead, Juliet is dead!
My Lady Juliet, my lord. She's dead, she's dead!
Juliet!
My baby, where is she?
[Capulet] O lamentable day.
Death lies on her like an untimely frost
upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
[singing in Latin]
[crying]
[singing stops]
Master.
Balthasar!
How fares my Juliet?
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.
How fares my lady?
[sobbing]
She's dead, my lord.
She's dead.
Her body sleeps in capel's monument.
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault.
Then, I defy you, stars!
Live...
and be prosperous.
Farewell, good fellow.
Juliet.
O my love...
My wife.
Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,
hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
Thou art not conquered...
Beauty's ensign yet is crimson in thy lips
and in thy cheeks.
Death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Tybalt.
Liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
What more favor can I do to thee,
than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
to sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin.
Ah, dear Juliet.
Why art thou yet so fair?
Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous,
and that the lean abhorred monster
keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee.
Never from this palace of dim night depart again.
Here, here will I remain,
with worms that are thy chambermaids.
[sobbing]
Eyes, look your last.
Arms, take your last embrace.
And lips, o you the doors of breath,
seal with a righteous kiss
a dateless bargain to engrossing death.
Here's to my love.
Thus with a kiss...
I die.
Who's there?
A friend, and one that knows thee well.
Balthasar. How long hast thou been here?
Full half an hour.
Go with me to the vault.
I dare not, sir.
My master knows not that I am gone hence.
Stay then, I'll go alone.
Fear comes upon me.
O much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
Romeo!
Oh, what an unkind hour
is guilty of this lamentable chance?
[Juliet] Ohh!
O comfortable Friar, where is my lord?
I do remember well where I should be,
and there I am.
Where is my Romeo?
[trumpet plays in distance]
I hear some noise.
Oh, where is my Romeo?
Oh, lady, come from this nest of death, contagion,
and unnatural sleep.
A greater power than we can contradict
hath thwarted our intents.
Come along. The watch is coming.
Where is my Romeo?
[Juliet gasps]
Come. Go, good Juliet.
No.
I dare no longer stay.
No!
I dare no longer stay.
Juliet!
[trumpet]
I dare no longer stay.
I dare no longer stay!
What's here?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.
O churl!
Drunk all, and left no friendly drop
to help me after!
I will kiss thy lips;
haply some poison yet doth hang on them
to make me die with a restorative.
Thy lips are warm!
Oh, no, no!
[man] Lead, boy, which way?
Search about the churchyard.
Go, some of you...
Yea, noise?
No!
Then I'll be brief, o happy dagger!
This is thy sheath;
there rest and let me die.
[moaning]
[bells tolling]
Where be these enemies?
Capulet!
Montague!
See what a scourge is laid upon your hate...
that heaven finds means to kill your joys with love;
and l, for winking at your discords too,
have lost a brace of kinsmen.
All are punished.
All are punished!
A glooming peace this morning with it brings.
The sun for sorrow will not show his head,
for never was a story of more woe
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.