The very butcher of a silk button,
a duelist,
a gentleman of the very first house
of the first and second cause.
The immortal passado.
Ha! The punto reverso.
The hey!
The what?
Ah ha ha!
Here comes Romeo.
Romeo!
Ho ho, capital punks.
Signor Romeo, bonjour.
There's a French salutation to your French slop.
You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive?
Pardon, good Mercutio. My business was great,
and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
constrains a man to bow in the hams.
Meaning to curtsy.
Thou has most kindly hit it.
A most courteous exposition.
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Pink for flower?
Right.
Why, then is my pump well-flowered?
Sure wit!
Now art thou sociable,
now art thou Romeo.
Now art thou what thou art,
by art as well as by nature.
Here's goodly gear.
God ye good e'en, fair gentlewoman.
I desire some confidence with you.
Ooh, a bawd!
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd!
So ho! So ho! So ho!
Romeo!
Will you come to your father's?
We'll to dinner thither.
I will follow you.
Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell.
If ye should lead her in a fool's paradise, as they say,
it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say.
For the lady is young; and therefore,
if you should deal double with her,
truly it were an ill thing and very weak dealing.
Bid her to come
to confession this afternoon,
and there she shall at Friar Laurence's cell
be shrived...
and married.
O honey nurse, what news?
Nurse!
I am aweary. Give me leave awhile.
Fie, how my bones ache.
What jaunce have I.
I would thou hadst my bones and I thy news.
Come, I pray thee speak.
Jesus, what haste. Can you not stay awhile?
Can you not see that I am out of breath?
How art thou out of breath
when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath?
Is the news good or bad? Answer to that.
Well, you have made a simple choice.
You know not how to choose a man.
Romeo? No, not he.
Though his face be better than any man's,
yet his leg excels all men's,
and for a hand and a foot and a body.
But all this I did know before.
What says he of our marriage? What of that?
Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I!
O, and my back.
T'other side.
Ah, my back!
In faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse,
tell me, what says my love?
Thy love says like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind,
and a handsome, and I warrant a virtuous...
Where is your mother?
How oddly thou repliest!
"Your love says, like an honest gentleman, 'Where is your mother?"'
God's Lady dear! Are you so hot?
Henceforth do your messages yourself!
O, here's such a coil!
Come, what says Romeo?
Have you got leave to go to confession today?
I have.
Then hie you hence to Father Laurence's cell.
There stays a husband to make you a wife!
These violent delights have violent ends,
and in their triumph die like fire and powder,
which as they kiss, consume.
The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness.
Therefore, love moderately.
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.
The day is hot. The Capulets are abroad.
And if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl,
for now, these hot days is the mad blood stirring.
Keep away the cats!
Huh, huh, huh, huh!
Thou art like one of these fellows
that, when he enters the confines of a tavern,
claps me his sword upon the table
and says, "God send me no need of thee!"
And by the operation of his second cup
draws him on the drawer,
when indeed there is no need.
Yeah.
Am I like such a fellow?
Thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Verona,
and as soon...
By my head, here come the Capulets.
By my heel, I care not.
Follow me close.
Gentlemen, good day. A word with one of you.
Ooh!
And but one word with one of us?
Couple it with something.
Make it a word, and a... a blow.
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir,
and you will give me occasion.
Could you not take some occasion without giving?
Mercutio, thou art consortest with Romeo.
Consort?
What, dost thou make us minstrels?
An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords.
Here's my fiddlestick.
Here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!
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.
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.
Mercutio!
Romeo!
The love I bear thee can afford no better term than this:
thou art a villain.
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 me not.
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me!
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,
who's name I tender as dearly as mine own,
be satisfied.
Be satisfied.
Calm, dishonorable, vile submission!
Thou art my soul's hate!
Tybalt... you ratcatcher,
will you walk?
What wouldst thou have with me?
Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your 9 lives.
Well, I am for you!
Forbear this outrage, good Mercutio!
Aah!
Art thou hurt?
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch.
A scratch!
Ay, a scratch.
A scratch.
Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much.
'Twill serve.
Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
A plague... o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me.
A plague on both your houses!
Your houses! Your houses!
No!
Why the devil came you between us?
I was hurt under your arm.
I thought all for the best.
A plague... o' both your houses.
No!
Come forth!
No!
Come, gentle night.
Come, loving, black-browed night,
give me my Romeo.
And when I 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 possessed it;
and though I am sold, not yet enjoyed.
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.
Mercutio's soul is but a little way above our heads,
staying for thine to keep him company.
Thou, wretched boy, shalt with him hence.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him!
I am fortune's fool!
Romeo!
Away, be gone! Stand not amazed!
Away!
Romeo!
Tybalt!
Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Romeo, he cries aloud,
"Hold, friends!"
Tybalt hit the life
of stout Mercutio.
Tybalt, here slain,
Romeo's hand did slay.
Prince!
As thou art true,
for blood of ours
shed blood of Montague!
Romeo, that spoke him fair,
could not take truce
with the unruly spleen of Tybalt deaf to peace.
He is a kinsman to the Montague; affection makes him false!
I beg for justice,
which thou, Prince, must give.
Romeo slew Tybalt. Romeo must not live!
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.
Noble Prince...
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
Therefore use none!
Let Romeo hence in haste,
else, when he is found,
that hour is his last!
Romeo is banished!
Banishment.
Be merciful, say death;
for exile hath more terror in his look,
much more than death.
Do not say... banishment.
Affliction is enamored of thy parts,
and thou art wedded to calamity.
Hence from Verona art thou banished.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
There is no world without Verona walls.
Hence, banished is banished from the world,
and world's exile is death.
Then banished is death mis-termed.
Calling death banished, thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
and smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
Hence!
I come from my lady Juliet.
Welcome.
Where is my lady's lord?
Romeo, come forth.
Nurse.
Ah, sir! Ah, sir! Death's the end of all.
Speakest thou of Juliet?
Where is she? And how doth she?
And what says my concealed lady to our canceled love?
O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps,
and then, "O, Romeo!" Cries, and then falls down again.
As if that name, shot from the deadly level of a gun, did murder her,
as that name's cursed hand murdered her kinsman!
I thought thy disposition better tempered!
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.
Wherefore railest thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth all 3 do meet in thee at once.
Sir, a ring my lady bid me give you.
How well my comfort is revived by this.
Go!
Get thee to thy love, as was decreed.
Ascend her chamber.
Hence and comfort her.
Hie you, make haste!
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
for then thou canst not pass to Mantua
where thou wilt live till we can find a time to blaze your marriage,
reconcile your friends, beg pardon of the prince,
and call thee back with twenty hundred thousand times more joy
than thou wentst forth in lamentation.
Quick hence! Be gone by break of day.
Sojourn in Mantua.
Farewell.
O God...
did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
Was ever book containing such vile matter so fairly bound?
O, that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace!
She'll not come down tonight.
These times of woe afford no time to woo.
Look, you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly.
And so did I.
Well...
we were born to die.
I'll know her mind early tomorrow.
Tonight she's mewed up to her heaviness.
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah, poor my lord,
what tongue shall smooth thy name
when I thy 3-hours wife have mangled it?
But whyfore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
I will make a desperate tender of my child's love.
I think she will be ruled in all respects by me;
nay, more, I doubt it not!
But what say you to Thursday?
My lord, I...
I would that Thursday were tomorrow.
Thursday let it be, then!
Wife, go you to Juliet ere you go to bed.
Tell her, a Thursday she shall be married to this noble sir!
Ow.
Wilt thou be gone?
It is not yet near day.
Ohh... I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Yond light is not daylight. I know it, I.
It is some meteor that the sun exhales
to light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet.
Thou needest not be gone.
Well, let me be taken.
Let me be put to death.
I have more care to stay than will to go.
Come, death, and welcome!
Juliet wills it so.
How is't, my soul?
Let's talk. It is not day.
It is, it is!
Hie hence, be gone, away!
O, now be gone! More light and light it grows.
more dark and dark our woes.
Madam!
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
Ho, daughter, are you up?
Then, window, let day in
and let life out.
Juliet!
Think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
I doubt it not.
Trust me, love,
all these woes shall serve for sweet discourses
in our times to come.
Juliet!
O God, I have an ill-divining soul.
Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low,
as one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
Adieu!
O fortune, fortune! Be fickle, fortune,
for then I hope thou wilt not keep him long
but send him back.
Thou hast a careful father, child:
one who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
hath sorted out a sudden day of joy
which thou expects not nor I looked not for.
Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn
the gallant, young, and noble gentleman, Sir Paris,
at Saint Peter's Church, shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Now by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter, too,
he shall not make me there a joyful bride!
Here comes your father.
Tell him so yourself.
How now, wife?
Have you delivered to her our decree?
Ay, sir, but she will none. She gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave!
How? Will she none?
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 bride?
Not proud you have,
but thankful that you have.
Proud can I never be of what I hate!
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
but fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next!
Hear me with patience but to speak a word...
Fie, fie! Stop it!
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me!
Fie, fie! What, are you mad?
Hang thee, young baggage!
Disobedient wretch.
God in heaven, bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
Peace, you mumbling fool!
I tell thee what...
Get thee to church o' Thursday
or never after look me in the face.
And you be mine, I'll give you to my friend.
And you be not, hang, beg, starve,
die in the streets.
Trust to it. Bethink you.
I'll not be forsworn.
O sweet my mother,
cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week.
Or if you do not,
make the bridal bed in that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
Talk not to me...
for I'll not speak a word.
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
O God!
O nurse,
how shall this be prevented?
What sayest thou?
Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.
Faith, here it is.
I think it best you marry with this Paris.
He's a lovely gentleman!
I think you are happy in this second match,
for it excels your first; or if it did not,
your first is dead...
Or 'twere as good he were
as living here and you no use to him.
Speakest thou from thy heart?
And from my soul, too...
else beshrew them both.
Amen.
What?
Well, thou hast comforted me marvelous much.
Go in and tell my lady I am gone,
having displeased my father, to Friar Laurence,
to make confession and be absolved.
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt�s death.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
that she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
and in his wisdom hastes our marriage
to stop the inundation of her tears.
Happily met, my lady and my wife.
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
That "may be" must be, love, on Thursday next.
What must be shall be.
Well, that's a certain text.
Come you to make confession?
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
or shall I come to you at evening mass?
My leisure serves thee, pensive daughter, now.
Good sir, we must entreat the time alone.
God shield I should disturb devotion!
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye.
Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
Tell me not, father, that thou hearest of this,
unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
do thou but call my resolution wise,
and with this... I'll help it presently!
Hold, daughter!
Be not so long to speak! I long to die!
I do spy a kind of hope,
which craves as desperate an execution
as that is desperate which we would prevent.
lf, rather than to marry with this Paris,
thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
then it is likely thou wilt undertake a thing like death...
to chide away this shame.
And if thou darest,
I'll give thee remedy.
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest.
Each part, deprived of supple government,
shall stiff and stark and cold, appear like death.
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes to rouse thee from thy bed,
there art thou dead.
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
thou shalt continue four and twenty 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 that very night
to bear thee both hence to Mantua.
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
and this distilling liquor drink thou off.
I'll send my letters to thy lord post haste to Mantua.
Hello!
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Shall I be married then tomorrow morning?
What, are you busy?
Need you my help?
No, madam. We have culled such necessaries
as are behoveful for our state tomorrow.
So please you, let me now be left alone,
and let the nurse this night sit up with you,
for I am sure you have your hands full all
in this so sudden business.
Good night.
Get thee to bed and rest,
for thou hast need.
Farewell!
God knows when we shall meet again.
Good night.
Romeo...
I drink to thee.
As the custom is, in all her best array
bear her to church.
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead
and breathed such life with kisses in my lips
that I revived and was an emperor.
Ah me,
how sweet is love itself possessed
when but love's shadows are so rich in joy.
News from Verona!
How now, Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the priest?
How doth my lady?
Is my father well?
How doth my lady Juliet?
For nothing can be ill if she be well.
Then she is well and nothing can be ill.
Her body rests in chapel monument,
and her immortal part with the angels lives.
I saw her laid low.
Oh, pardon me for bringing this ill news.
Is it e'en so?
Then I defy you, stars!
Juliet!
I will hence tonight.
Have patience.
Leave me!
Your looks are pale and wild and do import some misadventure.
Tush, thou art deceived.
Hast thou no letters to me from the priest?
No matter.
Well, Juliet...
I will lie with thee tonight.
I will hence tonight.
Fear comes upon me.
O, much I fear some ill, unthrifty thing.
The letter was of dear import.
I couldn't send it
nor get a messenger to bring it thee.
Neglecting it may do much damage.
Bring forth these enemies! Capulet and Montague!
Let me have a dram of poison,
such soon-speeding gear as will disperse itself through all the veins
that the life-weary taker may fall dead.
Such mortal drugs I have,
but Verona law is death to any he that utters them.
The world is not thy friend,
nor the world's law.
Then be not poor, but break it
and take this.
My poverty, but not my will, consents.
I pay thy poverty and not thy will.
Drink it off, and if you had the strength of 20 men,
it would dispatch you straight.
There is my gold.
Worse poison to men's souls
than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
Romeo had no notice of these accidents.
I will write again to Mantua.
Within the hour will the fair Juliet wake.
She stirs. The lady stirs.
I do beseech you.
Live and be prosperous;
and farewell, good fellow.
Then I will leave thee.
Tempt not a desperate man!
Hold! Hold!
Hold!
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,
and death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Dear Juliet,
why art thou yet so fair?
Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous
and keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?
Here.
Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest...
and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
from this world-wearied flesh.
Eyes, look your last.
Arm, take your last embrace.
And, lips,
O you the doors to breath...
seal with a righteous kiss.
A dateless bargain...
to engrossing death.
Romeo.
What's here?
Poison!
Drunk all,
and left no friendly drop to help me after?
I'll kiss thy lips.
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them.
Thy lips are warm.
Thus...
with a kiss...
I die.
See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
that heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords,
too have lost a brace of kinsmen.
All are punish'd.
All are punish'd!
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 pardoned and some punish'd,
for never was a story of more woe
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.