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?

      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.