ROMEO

Ay, so I fear, the more is my unrest.

CAPULET

Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone.

We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.

⌈They whisper in his ear⌉

Is it e’en so? Why then, I thank you all.

I thank you, honest gentlemen. Good night.

More torches here ! Come on then, let’s to bed.

(To his Cousin) Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late.

I’ll to my rest.

Exeunt Capulet, ⌈his Wife,⌉ and his Cousin. The guests, gentlewomen, masquers, musicians, and servingmen begin to leave

JULIET

Come hither, Nurse. What is yon gentleman?

NURSE

The son and heir of old Tiberio.

JULIET

What’s he that now is going out of door?

NURSE

Marry, that, I think, be young Petruccio.

JULIET

What’s he that follows here, that would not dance?

NURSE I know not.

JULIET

Go ask his name.

The Nurse goes

If he be married,

My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

NURSE (returning)

His name is Romeo, and a Montague,

The only son of your great enemy.

JULIET ⌈aside⌉

My only love sprung from my only hate!

Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Prodigious birth of love it is to me

That I must love a loathed enemy.

NURSE

What’s tis? what’s tis?

JULIET A rhyme I learnt even now

Of one I danced withal.

One calls within ‘Juliet!’

NURSE Anon, anon.

Come, let’s away. The strangers all are gone. Exeunt

2.0 Enter Chorus

CHORUS

Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,

And young affection gapes to be his heir.

That fair for which love groaned for and would die,

With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair.

Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;

But to his foe supposed he must complain,

And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks.

Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear,

And she as much in love, her means much less

To meet her new belovèd anywhere.

But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,

Temp’ring extremities with extreme sweet. Exit

2.1 Enter Romeo

ROMEO

Can I go forward when my heart is here?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

⌈He turns back and withdraws.⌉

Enter Benvolio with Mercutio

BENVOLIO (calling)

Romeo, my cousin Romeo, Romeo!

MERCUTIO

He is wise, and, on my life, hath stol’n him home to bed.

BENVOLIO

He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. Call, good Mercutio.

⌈MERCUTIO⌉ Nay, I’ll conjure too.

Romeo! Humours! adman! Passion! Lover!

Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh.

Speak but one rhyme and I am satisfied.

Cry but ‘Ay me!’ Pronounce but ‘love’ and ‘dove’.

Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

One nickname for her purblind son and heir,

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim

When King Cophetua loved the beggar maid.—

He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not.

The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.—

I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes,

By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,

By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,

And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,

That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

BENVOLIO

An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

MERCUTIO

This cannot anger him. ’Twould anger him

To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle

Of some strange nature, letting it there stand

Till she had laid it and conjured it down.

That were some spite. My invocation

Is fair and honest. In his mistress’ name,

I conjure only but to raise up him.

BENVOLIO

Come, he hath hid himself among these trees

To be consorted with the humorous night.

Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

MERCUTIO

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Now will he sit under a medlar tree

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit

As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.

O Romeo, that she were, O that she were

An open-arse, and thou a popp’rin’ pear.

Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed.

This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.

Come, shall we go?

BENVOLIO Go then, for ’tis in vain

To seek him here that means not to be found.

Exeunt Benvolio and Mercutio

ROMEO ⌈coming forward⌉

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Be not her maid, since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

⌈Enter Juliet aloft⌉

It is my lady, O, it is my love.

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 heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.