ROMEO AND JULIET

ACT 1, SCENE 1
BENVOLIO enters.
GREGORY
[Aside to SAMPSON] Say “better.” Here comes one of my master’s kinsmen.

[To SAMPSON so that only he can hear] Say “better.” One of our master’s kinsmen
has just arrived.

SAMPSON
[To ABRAHAM] Yes, better, sir.

[To ABRAHAM] Yes, my master is better than yours, sir.

ABRAHAM
You lie.

You’re a liar.

SAMPSON
Draw, if you be men.—Gregory, remember thy washing low.

Draw your swords, if you’re men. Gregory, get ready to slash them.
.
They fight.
BENVOLIO
[Draws his sword] Part, fools! Put up your swords. You know not what you do.

[He takes out his sword] Break it up, fools! Sheathe your swords. You don’t know
what you’re doing.

TYBALT enters.
TYBALT
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio. Look upon thy
death.

What, have you drawn your sword to fight with servants? Turn around, Benvolio,
and see the man who will kill you.

BENVOLIO
I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.

I’m just trying to keep the peace. Put away your sword, or else use it to help me
stop this fighting.

TYBALT
What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward!

You hold your sword drawn out, and say “peace?” I hate that word, just as I hate
hell, all Montagues, and you. Now let's fight, you coward!

BENVOLIO and TYBALT fight.

CAPULET, in his nightgown, and LADY CAPULET enter.

CAPULET
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

What is this noise? Give me my long sword. Now!

LADY CAPULET
A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?

You need a crutch! Why are you calling for a sword?

MONTAGUE, with his sword out, and LADY MONTAGUE enter.

CAPULET
My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Give me my sword, I said! Old Montague has arrived, and he’s waving his sword
just to spite me.

MONTAGUE
Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not. Let me go.

You are a villain, Capulet! [LADY MONTAGUE grabs his arm] Let go of me. Don’t
stop me.

LADY MONTAGUE
Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

You’re not taking one step to try to fight an enemy.

PRINCE ESCALUS enters with his attendants.

PRINCE
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel!—Will
they not hear? —What, ho! You men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious
rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, On pain of torture, from those bloody
hands Throw your distempered weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your
moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and
Montague, Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets And made Verona’s ancient
Citizens Cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans in hands as
old, Cankered with peace, to part your cankered hate. 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 To know our
farther pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more,
on pain of death, all men depart.

You rebels and enemies of the peace, who curse your own weapons by turning them on
your neighbors.

[To himself] Can they not hear me?

[To the fighters] Silence! You men, you beasts, who can only put out the fire of your
anger by spilling fountains of blood. I will torture you unless you drop your
weapons from your bloody hands and listen to me, your enraged Prince. Because
of nothing more than a casual word from you, Capulet and Montague, three battles
have raged in our city’s streets. These battles have forced even Verona’s elderly
citizens to take off their dignified clothes and jewelry and instead pick up old and
rusty spears in order to put an end to your fighting. If any of you Capulets or
Montagues disturb the peace in the future, you will pay for it with your lives. Now
everyone go home. Capulet, you come with me in order to hear what else I want
from you. Montague, you come this afternoon to old Free-town, where I deliver my
judgments. Everyone else, leave this place right now, or I will have you killed.

Everyone exits except MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO.

MONTAGUE
Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew. Were you by when it began?

Who stirred this old feud up again? Tell me, nephew. Were you around when the
fight began?

BENVOLIO
Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. I
drew to part them. In the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, Which,
as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who,
nothing hurt withal, hissed him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either
part.

Your servants were fighting Capulet's servants when I arrived. I drew my sword to
try to stop them. Just then, the reckless Tybalt showed up with his sword drawn.
He taunted me while swinging his sword through the air, which made a hissing
sound. As we fought, more and more Capulets and Montagues showed up to join
the battle. Finally, the Prince came and stopped the fighting.

LADY MONTAGUE
Oh, where is Romeo? Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

Oh, where’s Romeo? Have you seen him at all today? I’m happy he wasn’t around
for this fight.

BENVOLIO
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
That westward rooteth from this city side, So early walking did I see your son. Towards
him I made, but he was ‘ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood. I, measuring
his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being
one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned
who gladly fled from me.

Madam, my mind was troubled this morning, so an hour before dawn I went out for
a walk. As I walked, I saw your son beneath the sycamore grove that grows near
the western edge of the city. I walked toward him, but he noticed me and ran and
hid in the woods. I assumed that he must be feeling the same way I was, and was
looking for a place where he wouldn't be found.

MONTAGUE
Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s
dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs. But all so soon as the all-cheering
sun Should in the farthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed, Away
from light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up
his windows, locks fair daylight out, And makes himself an artificial night. Black and
portentous must this humor prove Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

He’s been seen at that spot on many mornings, his tears adding to the morning
dew and his deep sighs thickening the clouds in the sky. He keeps to himself in
his bedroom, shutting his windows. His bad mood is likely to have a bad result,
unless someone can give him good advice and remove the cause of his sadness.

BENVOLIO
My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

My noble uncle, do you know what’s causing his mood?

MONTAGUE
I neither know it nor can learn of him.

I don’t know. And he refuses to tell me.

BENVOLIO
Have you importuned him by any means?

Have you done everything possible to get him to explain?

MONTAGUE
Both by myself and many other friends. But he, his own affections’ counselor, Is to
himself—I will not say how true, But to himself so secret and so close, So far from
sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his
sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learn from
whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know.

I and many of our friends have tried to speak with him. But he insists on sharing
his thoughts only with himself, though I don’t know how good the advice is that
he’s giving himself. He keeps his secrets so completely that he’s like a flower bud
that can’t open to the air or suN.

ROMEO enters.
BENVOLIO
See, where he comes. So please you, step aside. I’ll know his grievance or be much
denied.

Here he comes. If you don't mind, please leave us alone. I’ll make him either tell me
what’s wrong, or else he'll just decline to tell me over and over again.

MONTAGUE
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift.—Come, madam, let’s away.

I hope you're lucky enough to hear the true story. Come on, madam, let’s go.

MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE exit.

BENVOLIO
Good morrow, cousin.

Good morning, cousin.

ROMEO
Is the day so young?

Is it still that early?

BENVOLIO
But new struck nine.

The clock has just barely struck nine.

ROMEO
Ay me! Sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?

Oh, my! Time goes by slowly when you’re sad. Was that my father who just rushed
away?

BENVOLIO
It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

It was. What sadness is making Romeo's hours so long?

ROMEO
Not having that which, having, makes them short.

Lacking the thing which would make the hours short if I had it.

BENVOLIO
In love?

Are you in love?

ROMEO
Out.

Out.

BENVOLIO
Of love?

So you’re not in love?

ROMEO
Out of her favor, where I am in love.

I am in love. But the one I love does not love me back.

BENVOLIO
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,170Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Oh, it is sad how love, which in theory seems like such a gentle thing, should in
actual experience be so rough!

ROMEO
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine? —O 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. Why then, O brawling love, O loving
hate, O anything of nothing first created! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen
chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-
waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not
laugh?

How can love, which is supposed to be blind? [Noticing blood] Oh my goodness,

what fighting happened here? No, don’t tell me. I already know: it was something
that had a lot to do with hate, but even more to do with love. Oh, fighting love! Oh,
loving hate! Oh, love that originates from nothing! Love is like heavy feathers,
bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, waking sleep, the opposite of what it is! That’s
the love I feel, since no one loves me in return. Are you laughing?

BENVOLIO
No, coz, I rather weep.

No, cousin—I'm crying instead..

ROMEO
Good heart, at what?

But why, my good man?

BENVOLIO
At thy good heart’s oppression.

Because of the way love has oppressed your heart.

ROMEO
Why, such is love’s transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou
wilt propagate, to have it pressed With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown Doth
add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving
tears.195What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving
sweet. Farewell, my coz.

That’s how it it goes with love. My own sadness is a heavy weight on my chest, and
now you’re going to add your own sadness to mine. The love you are showing me
is only increasing my grief. What else is love? A wise madness. A sweet candy
that makes you choke. Goodbye, my cousin.

BENVOLIO
Soft! I will go along. And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

Wait! I’ll come with you. If you leave me behind, you’ll be insulting me.

ROMEO
Tut, I have lost myself. I am not here. This is not Romeo. He’s some other where.

Oh, I’m not acting like myself. It’s as if I’m not even here. This is not Romeo, he’s
somewhere else.

BENVOLIO
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

Tell me, seriously, who is the one you love?

ROMEO
What, shall I groan and tell thee?

What? Should I cry out the name in a groan of sadness?

BENVOLIO
(Groan!)Why, no. But sadly, tell me who.

(Groan?!) Why, of course not. Just tell me who it is.

ROMEO
A sick man in sadness makes his will, A word ill urged to one that is so ill. In sadness,
cousin, I do love a woman.

You wouldn’t ask a sick man to “seriously” write out his will—it would only make
him feel worse. Seriously, cousin, I do love a woman.

BENVOLIO
I aimed so near when I supposed you loved.

I figured that out when I guessed you were in love.

ROMEO
A right good markman! And she’s fair I love.

Then you have good aim! And the woman I love is beautiful.

BENVOLIO
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

My dear cousin, a beautiful target is usually the one that is hit fastest.

BENVOLIO
Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her.

Listen to me. Stop thinking about her.

ROMEO
O, teach me how I should forget to think!

Oh, then teach me to forget how to think!

BENVOLIO
By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties.

By letting your eyes wander. Take a look at other beautiful girls.

ROMEO
‘Tis the way To call hers exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair
ladies’ brows, Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair. He that is strucken blind
cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. Show me a mistress that is
passing fair; What doth her beauty serve but as a note Where I may read who passed
that passing fair? Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget.

Such comparisons will only make her own beauty more obvious. It will be like the
masks that pretty girls wear to hide their faces. When they hide their beauty, they
make us think of it more. Goodbye. You can’t teach me to forget.

BENVOLIO
I'll pay that doctrine or else die in debt.

I'll teach you how to forget, or else I'll die owing you the lesson.

They exit.