Two households, both alike in dignity,
in fair Verona where we lay our scene,
from ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes...
a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,
whose misadventured piteous overthrows
do with their death... bury their parents'strife.
[laughing]
But the quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
Ah, 'tis all one.
[laughing]
Here come the house of the Montagues.
Ah, good morrow.
Good morrow to you, sir.
Quarrel, I will back thee.
Right.
Fail me not.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
I do bite my thumb, sir.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
No, sir.
I do not bite my thumb at you, sir,
but I do bite my thumb, sir.
Do you quarrel, sir?
Quarrel, sir? No, no, no, sir.
If you do, sir, I am for you.
I serve as good a man as you.
No better?
Yes, better, sir.
You lie.
[laughing]
Draw!
Draw if you be men!
Gregory, remember thy swashing blow!
[shouting]
Kill the Capulets!
[shouting]
Part, fools! Put up your swords!
You know not what you do!
The Prince hath expressly forbid
this bandying in Verona streets!
Here come the Capulets!
Tybalt, Capulet's kinsman!
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, Benvolio. Look upon thy death.
I do but keep the peace.
Put up thy sword
or manage it to part these men with me.
What, drawn and talk of peace?
I hate the word,
as I hate hell, all Montagues and thee.
Have at thee, cowards!
Capulet!
Montague!
[shouting]
Capulet!
Now hie thee home, fragment.
You villain!
Capulet!
[shouting]
Give me my long sword! Ho!
Capulet!
Down to the market square!
Capulet!
Follow me! Follow me!
Kill that villain Montague!
My noble uncle! My noble uncle!
What?
My sword! My sword!
Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe!
Hold me not! Let me go!
Montague!
Kill the villain!
[shouting]
[woman screams]
I'll strike thee, coward.
[trumpet fanfare]
The Prince!
The Prince is coming! Put down your weapons!
The Prince!
Here comes the Prince!
Put your weapons down! The Prince!
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
throw your mistempered weapons to the ground...
Down with your weapons.
And hear the sentence of your moved Prince.
Three civil brawls bred of an airy word,
by thee, old Capulet...
No, no.
And Montague...
Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets.
If ever you disturb our streets again,
your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time all the rest depart away!
You, Capulet, shall go along with me.
And, Montague, come you this afternoon.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[trumpet fanfare]
Where is Romeo? Saw you him today?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun
peered forth the golden window of the east,
a troubled mind drove me to walk abroad:
where, underneath the grove of sycamore
so early walking did I see your son.
Towards him I made; but he was ware of me,
and stole into the cover of the wood.
Many a morning hath he there been seen.
See, where he comes.
So please you, step aside.
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
to hear true shrift.
Come, madam. Let's away.
Good morrow, cousin.
Is the day so young?
But new struck nine.
Ay me!
Sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Hmm?
It was.
What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
Not having that, which having makes them short.
Hmm. Hmm!
But, Romeo...
Farewell, Coz.
[shouting]
[woman screaming]
God's me, what fray was here?
Yet tell me not,
for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Soft, I will go along.
But Montague is bound as well as l,
in penalty alike,
and 'tis not hard, I think,
for men as old as we to keep the peace.
Oh...
Of honorable reckoning are you both,
and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long:
but, but now, my lord,
what say you to my suit?
But saying o'er what I have said before,
my child is yet a stranger in the world.
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years.
[laughing]
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
'ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
[chuckling]
And too soon marred are those so early made.
The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,
she is the hopeful lady of my earth.
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
my will to her consent is but a part.
Oh, Peter!
This night I hold an old accustomed feast
whereto I have invited many a guest.
Such as I love, you among the store,
one more, most welcome, makes my number more.
Nurse, where's my daughter?
Call her forth to me.
Now, by my maidenhead at 12 years old,
I bade her come.
Where is the girl? Juliet! Juliet!
Where is the girl? Juliet!
How now, who calls?
Your mother! Your lady mother!
Juliet, it's your mother, your lady mother.
Make haste, girl. Make haste.
Where were you?
Madam, I am here. What is your will?
This is the matter.
Make haste, girls. Come on, come on.
Nurse, um...
give leave awhile, we must talk in secret.
Nurse, come back again. I have remembered me.
Thou's hear our counsel.
Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age.
I can tell her age unto an hour.
She's not fourteen.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth.
And yet to my teen be it spoke,
I have but four, she's not fourteen.
How long is it to Lammastide?
A fortnight and odd days.
Even or odd, of all the days of the year,
come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she--
God rest all Christian souls were of an age.
Well, Susan is with God. She was too good for me.
But, as I said, on Lammas Eve
at night shall she be fourteen.
That shall she, marry! I remember it well.
My lord and you were then at Mantua!
Nay, I do bear a brain.
For then she could, she could stand high lone.
Nay, by the road she could have run and waddled all about,
for even the day before she broke her brow;
and then my husband-- God rest his soul, 'a were a merry man--
took up the child.
"Yea," quoth he, "dost thou fall upon thy face?
"Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
wilt thou not, Jule?"
Nurse!
And by my holiday,
the pretty wretch left crying and said, "Ay."
[laughing]
Enough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.
Yes, madam.
Now, Juliet.
[laughing]
God mark thee to His grace
Thou was the prettiest babe that 'er I nurs'd.
And I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
Marry, that "marry" is the very theme I came to talk of.
Tell me, daughter Juliet,
how stands your disposition to be married?
It is an honor that I dream not of.
An honor, were I not thy only nurse,
I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from my teat.
Well, think of marriage now.
Younger than you, here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
are made already mothers.
By my count I was your mother
much upon these years that you are now a maid.
Oh, yes, I remember.
Thus then, in brief...
the valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
A man, young lady! Lady, such as all the world--
Why he's a man of wax.
Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nay, he's a flower in faith.
Shh.
What say you? Can you love the gentleman?
Madam! Madam!
The guests have come, supper serv'd up,
you call'd, my young lady ask'd for!
We follow.
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
I'll look to like, if looking liking move.
But no more deep will I endart mine eye,
than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Juliet, the county stays.
Madam, I come.
Go, girl, seek happy nights for happy days.
[music playing]
[singing]
Give me a case to put my visage in;
a visor for a visor.
What care I what curious eye doth quote deformities.
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
Ahh!
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without apology?
The date is out of such prolixity.
Let them measure us by what they will.
We'll measure them a measure and be gone.
Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in,
but every man betake him to his legs.
And we mean well in going to this masque,
but 'tis no wit to go.
Why, may one ask?
I dreamt a dream tonight.
Ho, and so did I.
Well, what was yours?
That dreamers often lie.
In bed asleep while they do dream things true.
Oh, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
Queen Mab?
She is...She is the fairies' midwife.
[laughter]
And she comes in state
no bigger than an agate stone
on the forefinger of an alderman,
drawn with a team of little atomies
athwart men's noses as they lie asleep.
Her wagon spokes are made of long spinner's legs;
and the cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
the traces of the smallest spider's web;
and the collars, mmm, of the moonshine's watery beams;
her whip, crack!
Is a cricket's bone; the lash of film;
and in this state
she gallops night by night through lovers' brains,
and then they dream of love,
o'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
because their breaths with, er,
sweetmeats tainted are.
Snd sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
tickling the parson's nose as he lies asleep,
and dreams he of another benefice.
[all] Amen.
[laughter]
Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
and then dreams he
of cutting foreign throats, of breaches,
ambuscadoes, spanish blades, drums in his ear,
at which he starts and wakes;
and being thus frighted tries a prayer or two...
and sleeps again.
This is that very Mab
that plaits the manes of horses in the night,
and bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
which once untangled much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
that presses them and learns them first to bear
making them women of good carriage.
This is she...
This is she that...
This...is she.
Peace, Mercutio, peace.
Thou talk'st of nothing.
True.
True, I talk of dreams;
which are the children of an idle brain...
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;
which is as thin of substance as the air,
and more inconstant than the wind
who woos even now the frozen bosom of the north,
and being angered puffs away from thence,
turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves.
Strike drum. Come, lusty gentlemen.
[music playing]
[singing]
Romeo, we shall arrive too late.
I fear too early...
For my mind misgives...
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
shall bitterly begin his fearful date
with this night's revels,
and expire the term of a despised life
closed in my breast,
by some vile forfeit of untimely death.
[bell tolling]
But he that hath the steerage of my course...
Direct my sail.
Enter my poor house. Vido, vido, welcome.
Oh, my lovely Helena, my lovely niece.
Welcome all! Be merry, gentlemen.
Be lively, ladies. Ahoy! Ahoy!
Welcome, gentlemen.
I have seen the day that I have worn a visor
and could tell a whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
such as would please.
'Tis gone, 'tis gone. You are welcome, gentlemen.
Ladies, ho, ho!
[music playing]
She doth teach the torches to burn bright.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
as a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear;,
beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
as yonder lady o'er her fellow shows.
Did my heart love till now?
Forswear it sight,
for I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
This by his voice should be a Montague.
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
a villain that is hither come in spite,
to scorn at our solemnity this night.
Young Romeo is it?
Dares the slave come hither covered in an antic face,
to fear and scorn at our solemnity?
'A bears him like a courtly gentleman;
and to say truth, Verona brags of him
to be a virtuous and well managed youth.
I would not for the wealth of all this town
here in my house do him disparagement.
Therefore have patience, take no note of him.
The Moureska!
[jingling]
[laughs]
[music plays]
Why, Uncle, 'tis a shame!
Go to.
You are a saucy boy.
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
Am I the master here, or you?
I will not endure him.
You will not endure! He shall be endured!
Or I know what!
Well said, my hearts.
You're a princox.
Be quiet or...
Ah.
For shame! I'll make you quiet.
Leonardo will sing!
Leonardo, I pray thee, sing.
What is a youth?
Impetuous fire
What is a maid?
Ice and desire
The world wags on
A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth
So does the fairest maid
Comes the time
When one sweet smile
Has its season for a while
Then love's in love with me
Some may think only to marry
Others will tease and tarry
Mine is the very best parry
Cupid he rules us all
Caper the caper, sing me the song
Death will come soon to hush us along
Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall
Love is a pastime that never will pall
Sweeter than honey and bitter as gall
Cupid he rules us all
A rose will bloom
And then will fade
So does a youth
So does the fairest maid
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
this holy shrine,
the gentle sin is this;
my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
to smooth the rough touch with a gentle kiss.
Oh.
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.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Oh...
O then, dear saint,
let lips do what hands do...
They pray, grant thou,
lest faith turn to despair.
Saints do not move,
though grants for prayers' sake.
Then move not...
While my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine,
my sin is purged.
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Sin from my lips!
O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.
A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth
So does the fairest maid
Juliet!
Lady Juliet!
Nurse?
Your mother craves a word with you.
Make haste, make haste!
What is her mother?
Hmm. Merry, bachelor,
her mother is the lady of the house,
and a good lady, and wise, and virtuous;
I nursed her daughter that you talked withal.
Hmm.
I tell you he that shall lay hold of her
shall have the chinks.
Is she a Capulet?
Ah, dear account!
My life is my foe's debt.
What, ho, my mistresses?
What, will you be gone?
It seems so, poor God, it is so very late.
We'll call it early, by and by.
Good night, sweet, my Lady Juliet.
Come hither, nurse.
Hmm?
What is yon gentleman?
Count Paris.
No. What's he that follows there?
Oh! I know not.
Go, ask his name.
Hmm. Romeo, of the house of Montague.
What?
His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
the only son of your great enemy.
My only love sprung from my only hate,
too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Oh!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me
that I must love a loathed enemy.
Juliet!
My Lady Juliet!
Madam!
Romeo!
Juliet!
Romeo!
Lady Juliet!
Juliet!
Romeo!
[horn blows]
Romeo!
[laughter]
Romeo!
1, 2, 3.
- Romeo! - Romeo!
He is wise,
and on my life hath stolen him home to bed.
He leaped this orchard wall.
Call, good Mercutio.
Romeo!
[whistles]
Romeo! Passion! Lover!
O-hooo! Madman!
O-hooo! Romeo!
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not.
The ape is dead.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
Romeo, it's all right.
[dog barking]
But soft,
what light through yonder window breaks?
[bell ringing]
It is my lady,
oh, it is my love.
Oh...
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 heavens,
having some business, do entreat her eyes
to twinkle in their spheres till they return.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
that I might touch that cheek.
Ay me!
She speaks.
Oh, speak again, bright angel.
O Romeo, Romeo,
wherefore art thou, Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name.
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
and I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Shall I hear more,
or shall I speak at this?
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What is Montague?
It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face
nor any other part belonging to a man.
O be some other name.
What's in a name?
That which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet;
so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,
retain that dear perfection
which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name,
and for that name which is no part of thee,
take all myself.
I'll take thee at thy word.
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
henceforth I never will be Romeo.
What man art thou, that thus bescreened in night
so stumblest on my counsel?
By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am.
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
because it is an enemy to thee.
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
My ears have not yet drunk
a hundred words of that tongue's utterance,
yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
How cam'st thou hither, tell me and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
and the place death, considering who thou art,
if any of my kinsmen find thee here.
With love's light wings
did I o'er perch these walls,
for stony limits cannot hold love out,
and what love can do, that dares love attempt.
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
Sshhh!
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes.
And but thou love me...
Let them find me here
my life were better ended by their hate,
than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Dost thou love me?
I know thou wilt say ay, and I will take thy word;
yet if thou swearest,
thou mayst prove false;
at lovers' perjuries they say jove laughs.
O gentle Romeo,
if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.
Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,
so thou wilt woo but else not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond...
And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light.
No.
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange,
I must confess,
but that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
my true love's passion;
therefore pardon me,
and not impute this yielding to light love,
which the dark night hath so discovered.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I swear.
Oh, swear not by the moon,
th'inconstant moon,
that monthly changes in her circled orb,
lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
What shall I swear by?
Do not swear at all.
Or if thou wilt...
Swear by thy gracious self,
which is the god of my idolatry,
and I'll believe thee.
If my heart's dear love, I swear...
Oh, Juliet!
Sweet, good night.
This bud of love by summer's ripening breath
may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night.
As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart
as that within my breast.
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?
Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
Ahh.
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it.
And yet I would it were to give again.
Wouldst thou withdraw it?
For what purpose, love?
But to be frank and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have,
my bounty is as boundless as the sea,
my love as deep.
The more I give to thee, the more I have,
for both are infinite.
Juliet!
Anon, good nurse!
Sweet Montague, be true.
Madam!
Stay but a little, I will come again.
Madam! Lady Juliet!
O blessed, blessed night!
Oh! I am afeard, being in night,
all this is but a dream,
too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honorable,
thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow,
by one that I'll procure to come to thee.
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite,
and all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
and follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.
Madam!
I come, anon.
But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee--
Lady Juliet!
By and by I come!
To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief.
Tomorrow will I send.
So thrive my soul.
A thousand times good night!
Romeo!
At what o'clock tomorrow shall I send to thee?
At the hour of nine.
I will not fail.
'Tis twenty years till then.
Romeo!
I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
remembering how I love thy company.
And I'll still stay,
to have thee still forget,
forgetting any other home but this.
Ahh.
[rooster crowing]
Good night, good night!
Parting is such sweet sorrow
that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Woo!
Friar Laurence!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Good morrow, father!
Ha ha ha!
Hey!
Young son, it argues a distempered head
so soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
thou art uproused with some distemperature.
Or if not so, then here I put it right
our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.
The last is true. The sweeter rest was mine.
God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline?
With Rosaline, my ghostly father, no.
I have forgot that name and that name's woe.
That's my good son.
Well, where hast thou been then?
I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
where on a sudden one hath wounded me.
Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set,
on the fair daughter of rich Capulet.
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine,
and all combined, save what thou must combine
by holy marriage.
When and where, and how we met,
we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass.
But this I pray,
that thou consent to marry us today.
Hmmm?
Holy Saint Francis!
Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
so soon forsaken?
Thou doest not mock me, Father!
Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts,
but in their eyes.
Hear me, Father.
Jesu Maria! What a deal of brine
hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
And art thou changed?
Pronounce this sentence then.
Women may fall when there's no strength in men.
Thou chidst me oft for loving Rosaline.
Doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Yes, for loving and, and badest me bury love.
Not in a grave to lay one in,
another out to have.
Come, young waverer,
come, go with me.
In one respect I'll thy assistant be.
O Father!
For this alliance may so happy prove
to turn your households' rancor to pure love.
O, let us hence!
I stand on sudden haste.
Shh! Wisely and slow,
they stumble that run fast.
Ha ha ha!
Shh!
Where the devil should this Romeo be?
Hmm?
Came he not home tonight?
Hmm?
Huh?
Came he not home tonight?
Who?
Romeo.
O no, not to his father's. I spoke with his man.
Hey, Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
hath sent a letter to his father's house.
A challenge, on my life.
Romeo will answer it.
Any man that can write may answer a letter.
Nay, he will answer the letter's master,
how he dares, being dared.
Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead;
stabbed with a white wench's black eye;
run through the ear with a love song;
the very pin of his heart cleft
with the blind bow-boy's buttshaft.
And is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Why, what is Tybalt!
More than Prince of Cats, I can tell you.
Ah, good morrow to you both.
[sniff]
That we should be thus afflicted
with these strange flies,
these fashionmongers,
these pardonnez moi's.
Ah, Signor Romeo,
Bonjour.
There's a French salutation to your French slop.
Huh?
You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
What counterfeit did I give you?
The slip, sir, the slip,
can you not conceive?
Pardon, good Mercutio.
My business was great--
Oh! Ha ha ha!
In such a case as mine
a man may strain courtesy.
Come between us, good Benvolio;
my wit faints.
Thy wit is very bitter sweeting
it is most sharp sauce.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Ha ha ha!
Why, is not this better now
than groaning for love?
Now art thou sociable,
now art thou Romeo;
now art thou what thou art,
by art as well as by nature.
For this driveling love is like a great natural
that runs malling up and down
to hide his bauble in a hole.
Stop there, stop there.
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair?
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
No, no, no, thou art deceived;
For I was come to the whole depth of my tale,
and meant to occupy the argument no longer.
Here's goodly gear.
[laughter]
Here's a fine barge.
A sail.
[all] A sail, a sail.
[laughter]
Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
[laughter]
Shh!
Peter.
Anon.
My fan, Peter.
Good, Peter, to hide her face,
for her fan's the fairer of the two.
Ha ha ha!
Oh!
God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
Is it good den, I pray?
Well, 'tis no less I tell you,
for the bawdy hand of the dial
is now upon the prick of noon.
Ha ha ha! Oh!
Out upon you, what a man are you?
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made himself to mar.
By my troth it is well said,
for himself to mar quoth 'a?
Hmm.
Gentleman, can any of you tell me
where I may find young Romeo?
[all] Romeo, Romeo.
Hey!
Shh!
I am the youngest of that name
for fault of a worse.
If you be he, sir,
I desire some conference with you.
[jeering and laughing]
She will indite him to some supper.
A bawd, a bawd.
A bawd!
Aah!
[laughter]
You filthy varmint you!
Here she comes!
Mercutio, no!
Aah!
An old hare hoar
And an old hare hoar
Is very good meat, in lent
But a hare that is a hoar
Is too much for a score
When it hoars ere it be spent
[nurse] Aah!
[laughter and cheering]
Ooh!
[laughter]
Farewell, ancient lady.
Ooh!
[laughter and shouting]
Scurvy knave, scurvy knave.
I'm none of his flirt-gills.
I'm none of his skein mates.
Er, cur, lousy knave,
lousy, lousy knave.
I pray you, sir.
What saucy merchant was this
that was so full of his property?
A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,
and will speak more in a minute
than he will stand to in a month.
I'll take him down,
an 'a were lustier than he is,
and twenty such jacks;
and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.
Ha ha ha!
And thou must stand by too
and suffer every knave
to use me at his pleasure.
Ooh...
Punk rampant!
Pray you, sir, a word.
Ooh!
Beef wit.
[organ playing]
[choir singing]
My young lady bid me inquire you out.
What she did bid me say,
I will keep to myself;,
but first let me tell ye,
if ye should lead her in a fool's paradise--
Nurse.
Shh! As they say,
it were a very gross kind of behavior;,
for the gentlewoman is young;
and therefore if you should deal double with her,
it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman,
and very weak dealing.
Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress,
I protest unto thee.
Bid her devise,
some means to come to shrift this afternoon,
and there she shall at Friar Laurence's cell
be shrived and married.
Oh!
Here's for thy pains.
No, no truly, sir, not a penny.
Go to, I say you shall.
No.
Well...
Sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady.
Lord, Lord, when she were a little prating thing.
Good-bye. Oh!
O there is a noble man in town,
One Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard.
I anger her sometimes and say that Paris is the properer man.
Nurse, commend me to thy lady.
A thousand times.
Ooh! Ooh!
[sighs]
The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse,
in half an hour she promised to return...
perchance she cannot meet him;
ahh, that's not so,
oh, she's lame,
love's heralds should be thoughts!
Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
she would be as swift in motion
as a ball.
But old folks, many feign as they were dead,
unwieldy, slow, heavy...
And pale as lead.
O God, she comes.
O honey nurse, what news?
O Lord, why look'st thou sad?
Oh!
Though news be sad,
yet tell them merrily.
[groaning]
Send the man away.
Peter, stay at the gate.
Go on.
Hast thou met with him?
Oh, I am aweary.
Give me leave awhile.
Fie, how my bones ache!
Ooh!
[groaning]
Sweet, sweet...
Sweet nurse.
Tell me, what says my love?
Ha ha ha!
Your love says like an honest gentleman,
and courteous, and kind,
and handsome, and, I warrant him,
a virtuous--
Where is your mother?
Where is my mother?
Why, she is within.
Where should she be?
How oddly thou repliest!
"Your love says like an honest gentleman,
where is your mother?"
Oh, God's lady, are you so hot?
Marry, come up I trow.
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.
Here's such a coil!
Come! What says Romeo?
Have you got leave to go to shrift today?
I have.
[chuckling]
Then, hie you hence to Friar Laurence's cell,
there stays a husband to make you a wife.
Ha ha ha!
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks.
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church!
I'll to dinner.
Honest nurse, farewell!
Ha ha ha!
So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
that after-hours with sorrow chide us not.
Amen, amen.
Come what sorrow can,
it cannot countervail the exchange of joy
that one short minute gives me in her sight.
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.
And in the taste confounds the...
Appetite.