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Read Ebook: Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare William Rolfe W J William James Editor
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Ebook has 879 lines and 60969 words, and 18 pages
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-cross'd lovers take their life, Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage, The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
ACT I
ACT II
Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks, But to his foe suppos'd 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-beloved any where. But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
ACT IV
ACT V
News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar! Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How fares my Juliet? that I ask again, For nothing can be ill if she be well.
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
This fundamental law of Shakespeare's verse is subject to certain modifications, the most important of which are as follows:--
The reasons for the choice of prose or verse are not always so clear as in these instances. We are seldom puzzled to explain the prose, but not unfrequently we meet with verse where we might expect prose. As Professor Corson remarks , "Shakespeare adopted verse as the general tenor of his language, and therefore expressed much in verse that is within the capabilities of prose; in other words, his verse constantly encroaches upon the domain of prose, but his prose can never be said to encroach upon the domain of verse." If in rare instances we think we find exceptions to this latter statement, and prose actually seems to usurp the place of verse, I believe that careful study of the passage will prove the supposed exception to be apparent rather than real.
"There is beyonde the Alps, a towne of auncient fame Whose bright renoune yet shineth cleare, Verona men it name: Bylt in an happy time, bylt on a fertile soyle: Maynteined by the heauenly fates, and by the townish toyle. The fruitefull hilles aboue, the pleasant vales belowe, The siluer streame with chanell depe, that through the towne doth flow: The store of springes that serue for vse, and eke for ease: And other moe commodities, which profite may and please; Eke many certaine signes of thinges betyde of olde, To fyll the houngry eyes of those that curiously beholde: Doe make this towne to be preferde aboue the rest Of Lumbard townes, or at the least compared with the best."
ACT I
"for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness."
"Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; To love's alarm it will not ope the gate."
"I hourly learn A doctrine of obedience," etc.
"When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing."
"No Lady fayre or fowle was in Verona towne: No knight or gentleman of high or lowe renowne: But Capilet himselfe hath byd vnto his feast: Or by his name in paper sent, appoynted as a geast."
"Ere long the townishe dames together will resort: Some one of bewty, favour, shape, and of so lovely porte: With so fast fixed eye, perhaps thou mayst beholde: That thou shalt quite forget thy loue, and passions past of olde.
The proverbe saith vnminded oft are they that are vnseene. And as out of a planke a nayle a nayle doth drive: So novell love out of the minde the auncient loue doth rive."
"She is drawn with the most wonderful power and discrimination. In the prosaic homeliness of the outline, and the magical illusion of the colouring, she reminds us of some of the marvellous Dutch paintings, from which, with all their coarseness, we start back as from a reality. Her low humour, her shallow garrulity, mixed with the dotage and petulance of age--her subserviency, her secrecy, and her total want of elevated principle, or even common honesty--are brought before us like a living and palpable truth....
Cf. Coleridge: "The character of the Nurse is the nearest of anything in Shakspeare to a direct borrowing from mere observation; and the reason is, that as in infancy and childhood the individual in nature is a representative of a class--just as in describing one larch-tree, you generalize a grove of them--so it is nearly as much so in old age. The generalization is done to the poet's hand. Here you have the garrulity of age strengthened by the feelings of a long-trusted servant, whose sympathy with the mother's affections gives her privileges and rank in the household; and observe the mode of connection by accidents of time and place, and the childlike fondness of repetition in a second childhood, and also that happy, humble ducking under, yet constant resurgence against, the check of her superiors!"
"What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the calendar?"
"But she that never cop'd with stranger eyes Could pick no meaning from their parting looks, Nor read the subtle shining secrecies Writ in the glassy margent of such books."
"At thone syde of her chayre, her lover Romeo: And on the other side there sat one cald Mercutio. A courtier that eche where was highly had in pryce: For he was coorteous of his speche, and pleasant of devise. Euen as a Lyon would emong the lambes be bolde: Such was emong the bashfull maydes, Mercutio to beholde. With frendly gripe he ceasd fayre Juliets snowish hand: A gyft he had that nature gaue him in his swathing band. That frosen mountayne yse was neuer halfe so cold As were his handes, though nere so neer the fire he dyd them holde."
"Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? I am provided of a torch-bearre."
"in contempt At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of hill or highest wall," etc.
"I am sorry that with better heed and judgment I had not quoted him."
"Ther gan our hoste for to jape and play, And sayde, 'sires, what? Dun is in the myre.'"
"If to a foule discourse thou hast pretence, Before thy foule words name sir-reverence, Thy beastly tale most pleasantly will slip, And gaine thee praise, when thou deserv'st a whip."
"Keep thy hands in thy muff and warm the idle Worms in thy fingers' ends."
"Fill the cup, and let it come; I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom."
"the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top."
"They barr'd their gates, Which we as easily tore unto the earth As I this tower of marchpane."
"And he that stands upon a slippery place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up."
"At length he saw a mayd, right fayre of perfect shape: Which Theseus, or Paris would haue chosen to their rape. Whom erst he neuer sawe, of all she pleasde him most: Within himselfe he sayd to her, thou iustly mayst thee boste. Of perfit shapes renoune, and Beauties sounding prayse: Whose like ne hath, ne shalbe seene, ne liueth in our dayes. And whilest he fixd on her his partiall perced eye, His former loue, for which of late he ready was to dye, Is nowe as quite forgotte, as it had neuer been."
"The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty, Till now I never knew thee!"
"Nor never did young lady brave and bright Like dancing better on a solemn day."
Coleridge remarks here: "How admirable is the old man's impetuosity, at once contrasting, yet harmonized with young Tybalt's quarrelsome violence! But it would be endless to repeat observations of this sort. Every leaf is different on an oak-tree; but still we can only say, our tongues defrauding our eyes, This is another oak leaf!"
"Patience perforce: helplesse what may it boot To frett for anger, or for griefe to mone?"
White remarks: "I have never seen a Juliet on the stage who appeared to appreciate the archness of the dialogue with Romeo in this scene. They go through it solemnly, or at best with staid propriety. They reply literally to all Romeo's speeches about saints and palmers. But it should be noticed that though this is the first interview of the lovers, we do not hear them speak until the close of their dialogue, in which they have arrived at a pretty thorough understanding of their mutual feeling. Juliet makes a feint of parrying Romeo's advances, but does it archly, and knows that he is to have the kiss he sues for. He asks, 'Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?' The stage Juliet answers with literal solemnity. But it was not a conventicle at old Capulet's. Juliet was not holding forth. How demure is her real answer: 'Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use--in prayer!' And when Romeo fairly gets her into the corner, towards which she has been contriving to be driven, and he says, 'Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd,' and does put them to that purgation, how slyly the pretty puss gives him the opportunity to repeat the penance by replying, 'Then have my lips the sin that they have took!'"
"So hath he learnd her name, and knowth she is no geast. Her father was a Capilet, and master of the feast. Thus hath his foe in choyse to geue him lyfe or death: That scarsely can his wofull brest keepe in the liuely breath."
"My banquet is to close our stomachs up, After our great good cheer."
"We'll dine in the great room, but let the music And banquet be prepared here;"
"As carefull was the mayde what way were best deuise To learne his name, that intertaind her in so gentle wise. Of whome her hart receiued so deepe, so wyde a wound, An aucient dame she calde to her, and in her eare gan rounde. This old dame in her youth, had nurst her with her mylke, With slender nedle taught her sow, and how to spin with silke. What twayne are those which prease vnto the doore, Whose pages in theyr hand doe beare, two toorches light before. And then as eche of them had of his household name, So she him namde yet once agayne the yong and wyly dame. And tell me who is he with vysor in his hand That yender doth in masking weede besyde the window stand. His name is Romeus a Montegewe. Whose fathers pryde first styrd the strife which both your householdes rewe."
ACT II
"The blinded boy that shoots so trim From heaven down did hie, He drew a dart and shot at him, In place where he did lie."
"O for such means! Though peril to my modesty, not death on 't, I would adventure."
"For Jove himself sits in the azure skies, And laughs below at lovers' perjuries."
"For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon."
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