The Best of Shakespeare:. William Shakespeare

       He shall be endur’d:

       What, goodman boy!—I say he shall;—go to;

       Am I the master here, or you? go to.

       You’ll not endure him!—God shall mend my soul,

       You’ll make a mutiny among my guests!

       You will set cock-a-hoop! you’ll be the man!

       Tybalt.

       Why, uncle, ‘tis a shame.

       Capulet.

       Go to, go to!

       You are a saucy boy. Is’t so, indeed?—

       This trick may chance to scathe you,—I know what:

       You must contrary me! marry, ‘tis time.—

       Well said, my hearts!—You are a princox; go:

       Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame!

       I’ll make you quiet. What!—cheerly, my hearts.

       Tybalt.

       Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting

       Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.

       I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,

       Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

       [Exit.]

       Romeo.

       [To Juliet.] If I profane with my unworthiest hand

       This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,—

       My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

       To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

       Juliet.

       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.

       Romeo.

       Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

       Juliet.

       Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

       Romeo.

       O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

       They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

       Juliet.

       Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

       Romeo.

       Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.

       Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg’d.

       [Kissing her.]

       Juliet.

       Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

       Romeo.

       Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d!

       Give me my sin again.

       Juliet.

       You kiss by the book.

       Nurse.

       Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

       Romeo.

       What is her mother?

       Nurse.

       Marry, bachelor,

       Her mother is the lady of the house.

       And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous:

       I nurs’d her daughter that you talk’d withal;

       I tell you, he that can lay hold of her

       Shall have the chinks.

       Romeo.

       Is she a Capulet?

       O dear account! my life is my foe’s debt.

       Benvolio.

       Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.

       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.—

       Is it e’en so? why then, I thank you all;

       I thank you, honest gentlemen; goodnight.—

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

       Ah, sirrah [to 2 Capulet], by my fay, it waxes late;

       I’ll to my rest.

       [Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.]

       Juliet.

       Come hither, nurse. What is yond 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 Petruchio.

       Juliet.

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

       Nurse.

       I know not.

       Juliet.

       Go ask his name: if he be married,

       My grave is like to be my wedding-bed.

       Nurse.

       His name is Romeo, and a Montague;

       The only son of your great enemy.

       Juliet.

       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 this? What’s this?

       Juliet.

       A rhyme I learn’d even now

       Of one I danc’d withal.

       [One calls within, ‘Juliet.’]

       Nurse.

       Anon, anon!

       Come, let’s away; the strangers all are gone.

       [Exeunt.]

       [Enter Chorus.]

       Chorus.

       Now old desire doth in his deathbed 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 us’d to swear;

       And she as much in love, her means much less

       To meet her new beloved anywhere:

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

       Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

       [Exit.]