Romeo and Juliet
William Shakespeare\
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-crossed lovers take their life,
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-marked love
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, naught 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.
“Romeo I come! This I do drink to thee!”
Act 3, Scene 3
ROMEO
What less than doomsday is the prince’s doom?
FRIAR LAURENCE
A gentler judgment vanished from his lips:
Not body’s death, but body’s banishment.
ROMEO
Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say ‘death,’
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death. Do not say ‘banishment.’
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hence from Verona art thou banishèd.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
ROMEO
There is no world without Verona walls
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence ‘banishèd is banished from the world,’
And world’s exile is death. Then ‘banishèd,’
Is death mistermed. Calling death ‘banishèd’
Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden ax
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
Prince Escalus. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-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 mistemper’d 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 disturb’d 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,
Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d 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 further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
