Romeo and Juliet

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.

Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. Exit.

Romeo

To Juliet. If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

Romeo

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Juliet

Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Romeo

O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Juliet

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

Romeo

Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

Juliet

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Romeo

Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

Juliet

You kiss by the book.

Capulet’s orchard.

Enter Romeo.

Romeo

He jests at scars that never felt a wound. Juliet appears above at a window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!

Juliet

Ay me!

Romeo

She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o’er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto

Have you deliver’d to her our decree?

Lady Capulet

Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. I would the fool were married to her grave!

Capulet

Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Juliet

Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: Proud can I never be of what I hate; But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

Capulet

How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this? “Proud,” and “I thank you,” and “I thank you not;” And yet “not proud:” mistress minion, you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next, To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! You tallow-face!

Lady Capulet

Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

Juliet

Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Capulet

Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to church o’ Thursday, Or never after look me in the face: Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; My fingers itch.

Juliet

Tell me not, friar, that thou hear’st of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife I’ll help it presently. God join’d my heart and Romeo’s, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal’d, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, Give me some present counsel, or, behold, ’Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that Which the commission of thy years and art Could to no issue of true honour bring. Be not so long to speak; I long to die, If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy.

Friar Laurence

Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, Which craves as desperate an execution As that is desperate which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry County Paris, Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, Then is it likely thou wilt undertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That copest with death himself to scape from it; And, if thou darest, I’ll give thee remedy.

Juliet