Romeo and Juliet Act 3 Scene 2
Capulet's orchard.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Enter Juliet.
Juliet
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runaway's 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 on 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.
Juliet
Gallop faster, you fiery-footed horses,
toward the sun god's home. A driver
like Phaethon would whip you to the west
and bring on cloudy night immediately.
Draw your thick curtain, love-making night,
so that prying eyes close and Romeo
can leap into these arms unseen and ungossiped-about.
Lovers can see well enough to perform their rites
by their own beauty — or if love is blind,
it suits the night best of all. Come, sober night,
you plainly-dressed matron all in black,
and teach me how to lose a match I win,
played for a pair of spotless virginities.
Hood the wild blood beating in my cheeks
with your black cloak, until unfamiliar love grows bold
and thinks true lovemaking is simple modesty.
Come, night. Come, Romeo. Come, you daylight in the dark —
because you'll lie on night's wings
whiter than fresh snow on a raven's back.
Come, gentle night; come, loving, dark-browed night;
give me my Romeo. And when he dies,
take him and cut him into little stars,
and he'll make the face of heaven so beautiful
that the whole world will fall in love with night
and stop worshipping the gaudy sun.
Oh, I've bought a mansion of love
but haven't moved in. And though I've been sold,
I haven't been enjoyed. This day drags as slowly
as the night before a festival
to an impatient child with new clothes
who isn't allowed to wear them. — Oh, here comes my Nurse,
and she brings news. Any tongue that so much as says
Romeo's name speaks with heavenly eloquence.
Enter the Nurse, with the rope ladder.
Juliet
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
That Romeo bid thee fetch?
Juliet
Now, Nurse, what's the news? What's that you have — the ropes
Romeo told you to fetch?
Nurse
Ay, ay, the cords.
Nurse
Yes, yes — the ropes.
She throws them down.
Juliet
Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
Juliet
Oh no — what's happened? Why are you wringing your 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!
Nurse
Oh, what a day! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
We're ruined, madam, we're ruined!
What a terrible day! He's gone, he's killed, he's dead!
Juliet
Can heaven be so envious?
Juliet
Can heaven be so cruel?
Nurse
Romeo can,
Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!
Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
Nurse
Romeo can be,
even if heaven can't. Oh, Romeo, Romeo!
Who would ever 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.
Juliet
What devil are you, torturing me like this?
This is torture fit to be screamed in hell.
Has Romeo killed himself? Just say 'aye,'
and that single syllable will poison me worse
than the killing stare of a basilisk.
I'm not myself if there's such an 'aye' —
or if those eyes are shut that make you say it.
If he's dead say 'aye'; if not, say no.
Two tiny sounds decide whether I live in joy or misery.
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.
Nurse
I saw the wound, I saw it with my own eyes —
God preserve us — there on his manly chest.
A pitiful corpse, a bloody pitiful corpse;
pale, pale as ashes, smeared all over with blood,
covered in clotted blood. I fainted at the sight.
Juliet
O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, 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!
Juliet
Break, my heart! You poor bankrupt thing, break now!
Off to prison, eyes — never look on freedom again!
Worthless body, return to the earth. Stop moving.
Let you and Romeo weigh down a single coffin!
Nurse
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!
Nurse
Oh, Tybalt, Tybalt — the best friend I had!
Oh, courteous Tybalt! Honest gentleman!
That I should live to see you dead!
Juliet
What storm is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
For who is living, if those two are gone?
Juliet
What storm is this, blowing in every direction?
Is Romeo killed AND Tybalt dead?
My beloved cousin and my even dearer husband?
Then let the dreadful trumpet sound the Last Judgment!
Who's left alive, if those two are gone?
Nurse
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
Nurse
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo is banished.
Romeo killed him, and he's been banished.
Juliet
O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
Juliet
Oh God — Romeo's own hand spilled Tybalt's blood?
Nurse
It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
Nurse
It did, it did — God help us, 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 moral 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!
Juliet
Oh, snake's heart hidden behind a flowering face!
Did a dragon ever live in such a beautiful cave?
Beautiful tyrant! Angelic devil!
Dove-feathered raven! Wolf-hungry lamb!
Vile substance behind the most heavenly appearance!
The exact opposite of what you rightly appear to be —
a damned saint, an honourable villain!
Nature, what were you doing in hell,
housing the spirit of a demon
in the earthly paradise of such lovely flesh?
Was there ever a book with such vile contents
so beautifully bound? Oh, that deceit should live
in such a gorgeous palace!
Nurse
There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
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!
Nurse
There's no trust,
no faith, no honesty in men. They're all liars,
all oath-breakers, all worthless, all frauds.
Where's my servant? Get me some brandy.
All this grief and misery and sorrow is aging me.
Shame on Romeo!
Juliet
Blister'd be thy tongue
For such a wish! he was not born to shame:
Upon his brow shame is ashamed 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!
Juliet
May your tongue blister
for wishing that! He wasn't born for shame.
Shame is ashamed to sit on his forehead,
because it's a throne where honour should be crowned
sole ruler of the whole earth.
Oh, what a beast I was to scold him!
Nurse
Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
Nurse
Are you going to speak kindly of the man who killed 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 lamentations might have moved?
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?
Juliet
Should I speak badly of the man who is my husband?
Oh, my poor lord — what tongue will speak well of your name
when I, your wife of three hours, have torn it apart?
But why, villain, did you kill my cousin?
Because that villain cousin would have killed my husband.
Get back, foolish tears, back where you came from.
Your drops are owed to sorrow,
and you're mistakenly offering them to joy.
My husband is alive, whom Tybalt would have killed;
and Tybalt is dead, who would have killed my husband.
That's all good news. So why am I crying?
There was a word, worse than Tybalt's death,
that murdered me. I'd love to forget it,
but it presses on my memory
the way guilty deeds press on a sinner's mind:
'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo — banished.'
That word 'banished' — that one word —
has killed ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
was misery enough, if it had ended there.
Or if bitter grief likes company
and insists on being paired with other sorrows,
why didn't she follow 'Tybalt's dead' with
'your father' or 'your mother,' or both —
which would have earned ordinary mourning?
But instead, as a rear-guard behind Tybalt's death,
came 'Romeo is banished.' To speak that word
is to say father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet —
all killed, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
There's no end, no limit, no measure, no boundary
to the death in that word. No words can express that grief.
Where are my father and mother, Nurse?
Nurse
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Nurse
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's body.
Will you go to them? I'll take you.
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 beguiled,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:
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!
Juliet
Let them wash his wounds with tears. Mine will be spent,
when theirs are dry, on Romeo's banishment.
Pick up those ropes. Poor ropes — you've been cheated,
and so have I. Romeo is exiled.
He made you a road to my bed,
but I'll die a virgin widow.
Come, ropes; come, Nurse. I'm going to my wedding bed —
and let death, not Romeo, take my virginity.
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 Laurence' cell.
Nurse
Get to your room. I'll find Romeo
to comfort you — I know exactly where he is.
Listen, your Romeo will be here tonight.
I'll go to him. He's hiding at Friar Laurence's cell.
Juliet
O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell.
Juliet
Oh, find him! Give this ring to my true knight,
and tell him to come and say his last goodbye.
Exeunt.