Romeo and Juliet - William Shakespeare (e novels to read online .TXT) 📗

/> Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

Romeo.
Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! -
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses. I will hence to-night.

Balthasar.
I do beseech you, sir, have patience:
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Romeo.
Tush, thou art deceiv'd:
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

Balthasar.
No, my good lord.

Romeo.
No matter: get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit Balthasar.]

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means; - O mischief, thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary, -
And hereabouts he dwells, - which late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said,
An if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. -
What, ho! apothecary!

[Enter Apothecary.]

Apothecary.
Who calls so loud?

Romeo.
Come hither, man. - I see that thou art poor;
Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker mall fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Apothecary.
Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them.

Romeo.
Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back,
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law:
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it and take this.

Apothecary.
My poverty, but not my will consents.

Romeo.
I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Apothecary.
Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.

Romeo.
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell:
I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
Farewell: buy food and get thyself in flesh. -
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.

[Exeunt.]


Scene II. Friar Lawrence's Cell.

[Enter Friar John.]

Friar John.
Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

[Enter Friar Lawrence.]

Friar Lawrence.
This same should be the voice of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

Friar John.
Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order, to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

Friar Lawrence.
Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?

Friar John.
I could not send it, - here it is again, -
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Friar Lawrence.
Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
Get me an iron crow and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

Friar John.
Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

[Exit.]

Friar Lawrence.
Now must I to the monument alone;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake:
She will beshrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; -
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!

[Exit.]


Scene III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the
Capulets.

[Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch.]

Paris.
Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof; -
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew tree lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, -
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, -
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

Page.
[Aside.] I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

[Retires.]

Paris.
Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew:
O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones!
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew;
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
The obsequies that I for thee will keep,
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

[The Page whistles.]

The boy gives warning something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?
What, with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.

[Retires.]

[Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a torch, mattock, &c.]

Romeo.
Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light; upon thy life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death
Is partly to behold my lady's face,
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring, - a ring that I must use
In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: -
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

Balthasar.
I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

Romeo.
So shalt thou show me friendship. - Take thou that:
Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.

Balthasar.
For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

[Retires.]

Romeo.
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the door of the monument.]

And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

Paris.
This is that banish'd haughty Montague
That murder'd my love's cousin, - with which grief,
It is supposed, the fair creature died, -
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. -

[Advances.]

Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee;
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

Romeo.
I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. -
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
Fly hence and leave me: - think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee. - I beseech thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head
By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, be gone; - live, and hereafter say,
A madman's mercy bid thee run away.

Paris.
I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Romeo.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!

[They fight.]

Page.
O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

[Exit.]

Paris.
O, I am slain! [Falls.] If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

[Dies.]

Romeo.
In faith, I will. - Let me peruse this face: -
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! -
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think
He told me Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so? - O, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave; -
A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

[Laying Paris in the monument.]

How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry! which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O, how may I
Call this a lightning? - O my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there. -
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favour can I do to thee
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin! - Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that I still will stay with thee,
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again: here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids: O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. - Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death! -
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love! [Drinks.] - O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. - Thus with a kiss I die.

[Dies.]

[Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence, with
a lantern, crow, and spade.]

Friar.
Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves! - Who's there?
Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?

Balthasar.
Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Friar.
Bliss be upon you!