SCENE II. Capulet's orchard. Romeo and Juliet  Shakespeare homepage  |  Romeo and Juliet  | Act 3, Scene 2 

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 Enter JULIET  JULIET  Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 

 Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner 

 As Phaethon would whip you to the west, 

 And bring in cloudy night immediately. 

 Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, 

 That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo 

 Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. 

 Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 

 By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, 

 It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, 

 Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, 

 And learn me how to lose a winning match, 

 Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: 

 Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, 

 With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, 

 Think true love acted simple modesty. 

 Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; 

 For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night 

 Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. 

 Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, 

 Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, 

 Take him and cut him out in little stars, 

 And he will make the face of heaven so fine 

 That all the world will be in love with night 

 And pay no worship to the garish sun. 

 O, I have bought the mansion of a love, 

 But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, 

 Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day 

 As is the night before some festival 

 To an impatient child that hath new robes 

 And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, 

 And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks 

 But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. 



 Enter Nurse, with cords  Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords 

 That Romeo bid thee fetch? 

 Nurse  Ay, ay, the cords. 



 Throws them down  JULIET  Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? 

 Nurse  Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! 

 We are undone, lady, we are undone! 

 Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! 

 JULIET  Can heaven be so envious? 

 Nurse  Romeo can, 

 Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! 

 Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! 

 JULIET  What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? 

 This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. 

 Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' 

 And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more 

 Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: 

 I am not I, if there be such an I; 

 Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' 

 If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: 

 Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. 

 Nurse  I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- 

 God save the mark!--here on his manly breast: 

 A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; 

 Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, 

 All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. 

 JULIET  O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! 

 To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! 

 Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; 

 And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! 

 Nurse  O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! 

 O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! 

 That ever I should live to see thee dead! 

 JULIET  What storm is this that blows so contrary? 

 Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? 

 My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? 

 Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! 

 For who is living, if those two are gone? 

 Nurse  Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; 

 Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. 

 JULIET  O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? 

 Nurse  It did, it did; alas the day, it did! 

 JULIET  O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! 

 Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? 

 Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! 

 Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! 

 Despised substance of divinest show! 

 Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, 

 A damned saint, an honourable villain! 

 O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, 

 When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend 

 In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? 

 Was ever book containing such vile matter 

 So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell 

 In such a gorgeous palace! 

 Nurse  There's no trust, 

 No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, 

 All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. 

 Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae: 

 These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. 

 Shame come to Romeo! 

 JULIET  Blister'd be thy tongue 

 For such a wish! he was not born to shame: 

 Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; 

 For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd 

 Sole monarch of the universal earth. 

 O, what a beast was I to chide at him! 

 Nurse  Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? 

 JULIET  Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? 

 Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, 

 When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? 

 But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? 

 That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: 

 Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; 

 Your tributary drops belong to woe, 

 Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. 

 My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; 

 And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: 

 All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? 

 Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, 

 That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; 

 But, O, it presses to my memory, 

 Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 

 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;' 

 That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' 

 Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death 

 Was woe enough, if it had ended there: 

 Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship 

 And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, 

 Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' 

 Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, 

 Which modern lamentations might have moved? 

 But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, 

 'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, 

 Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, 

 All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' 

 There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, 

 In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. 

 Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? 

 Nurse  Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: 

 Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. 

 JULIET  Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, 

 When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. 

 Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, 

 Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: 

 He made you for a highway to my bed; 

 But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. 

 Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; 

 And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! 

 Nurse  Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo 

 To comfort you: I wot well where he is. 

 Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: 

 I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. 

 JULIET  O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, 

 And bid him come to take his last farewell. 



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