现代罗密欧与朱丽叶英文剧本

英文剧本: 现代罗密欧与朱丽叶 Romeo Juliet script

Romeo + Juliet script

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 misadventured 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 ' traffiic of our stage.

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.

A dog of the house of Capulet moves me!

Pedlar's excrement!

King Urinal! Go rot!

The boys! The boys!

- The quarrel is between our masters. - And us their men!

Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble!

And I am a pretty piece offlesh!

I am...

a pretty piece of flesh!

- Here comes of the house of Capulet! - Quarrel, I will back thee.

I will bite my thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Go forth! I will back thee!

- Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? - l... I do bite my thumb, sir.

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

- Is the law of our side if I say ay? - No!

No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir!

- Do you quarrel, sir? - Quarrel, sir? No, sir!

But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you.

No better?

Here comes our kinsman. Say better!

- Yes, sir, better! - You lie!

Draw, if you be men!

Part, fools! You know not what you do.

Put up your Swords!

What, art thou drawn among these... heartless hinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio,

and look upon thy death.

I do but keep the peace.

Put up thy Sword,

or manage it to part these men with me.

Peace?

I hate the word...

as I hate hell,

all Montagues,

and thee.

Bang bang!

Bang.

- Come forth! Come! - Wait!

Come forth!

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny...

Do not proceed!

Give me my Longsword, ho!

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

Rebellious subjects,

enemies to peace!

Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground!

On pain of torture,

from those bloody hands throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground!

Three civil brawls,

bred of an airy word by thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets.

If ever you disturb our streets again,

your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

O where is Romeo? Saw you him today?

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

Madam, underneath the Grove of Sycamore,

so early walking did I see your son.

Many a morning hath he there been seen,

with tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew.

Away from light steals home my heavy son,

and private in his chamber pens himself,

shuts up his windows,

Iocks fair daylight out, and makes himself an artificial night.

Why, then...

O brawling love, O loving hate!

O anything of nothing first create!

Heavy lightness,

serious vanity.

Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms.

Black and portentous must this humour prove...

unless good counsel may the cause remove.

So please you, step aside.

I'll know his grievance or be much denied.

Come, madam, let's away.

Good morrow, cousin.

Is the day so young?

But new struck, coz.

Ay me, sad hours seem long.

Was that my father that went hence so fast?

It was.

What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

Not having that which having makes them short.

- In love? - Out.

- Of love? - Out of her favour where I am in love.

Alas that love, so gentle in his view,

should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.

Alas that love, whose view is muffled still,

should without eyes see pathways to his will.

Where shall we dine?

..this costly blood.

Never anger made good guard for itself.

The law hath not been dead...

O me! What fray was here?

- Coz, l... - Yet tell me not, for I've 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 create!

O heavy lightness, serious vanity!

Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

Feather of lead, br...

Dost thou not laugh?

No, coz, I rather weep.

Good heart, at what?

- At thy good heart's oppression. - Farewell, my coz.

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

But Montague is bound as well as l, in penalty alike.

And 'tis not hard, I think, for men as old as we to keep the peace.

Of honourable reckoning are you both, and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.

But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

But saying o'er what I have said before: my child is yet a stranger in the world.

Let two more summers wither in their pride ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Younger than she are happy mothers made.

And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

This night I hold an old accustom'd feast.

At my poor house look to behold this night

fresh female buds that make dark heaven light.

Hear all, all see,

and like her most whose merit most shall be.

Come, go with me.

Tell me in sadness, who is it that you love?

In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

I aim'd so near when I supposed you loved.

A right good marksman! And she's fair I love.

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

Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit with Cupid's arrow;,

nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,

nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.

Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste.

- Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her. - Teach me how I should forget to think.

By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties.

Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

Not mad, but bound more than a madman is.

Shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipp'd and tormented.

Good day, good fellow.

Now, I'll tell you without asking.

The great rich Capulet holds an old accustom'd feast.

A fair assembly. Signor Placentio and his wife and daughters,

the lady widow of Utruvio, and her lovely nieces Rosaline...

At this same ancient feast of Capulet's sups the fair Rosaline,

whom thou so loves, with all the admired beauties of Verona.

Ifyou be not of the House ofMontague, come and crush a cup of wine!

Go thither, and with unattainted eye

compare her face with some that I shall show,

and I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,

but to rejoice in splendour of mine own.

Juliet!

Nurse!

Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me.

I bade her come. God forbid!

Julieta!

Juliet!

Madam, I am here. What is your will?

O nurse, give us leave awhile. We must talk in secret.

Nurse, come back again! I have remembered me.

Thou's hear our counsel.

Nurse, thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age.

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed.

By my count, I was your mother much upon these years.

You are now a maid.

Thus then in brief!

The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

A man, young lady!

Lady, such a man as all the world. Why, he's a man of wax!

Verona's summer hath not such a flower...

Nay, he's a flower. In faith, a very flower...

Nurse!

This night you shall behold him at our feast.

Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face and find delight writ there

with beauty's pen.

This... precious book of love, this unbound lover,

to beautify him, only lacks a cover.

So shall you share all that he doth possess,

by having him making yourself no less.

Nay, bigger. Women grow by men.

Speak briefly, could you like of Paris' love?

I'll look to like, if looking liking move.

But no more deep will I endart mine eye

than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Madam, the guests are come.

Go!

We follow thee.

Juliet!

Go, girl. Seek happy nights to happy days.

You taffeta punk!

Die a beggar!

Sharing this one and only life

Ending up just another lost and lonely wife

You count up the years

And they will be filled with tears

Young hearts

Run free

Never be hung up

Like Rosaline and thee

Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Not l. Not l, believe me.

You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.

You are a lover.

Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.

Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

If love be rough with you, be rough with love.

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

Every man, betake him to his legs!

Come, we burn daylight, ho!

- But 'tis no wit to go! - Why, may one ask?

- I dreamt a dream tonight. - And so did l.

- And what was yours? - That dreamers often lie.

In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

O! Then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.

She is the fairies' midwife,

and she comes in shape no bigger than an agate-stone

on the forefinger of an alderman,

drawn with a team of little atomies

over men's noses as they lie asleep.

Her chariot is an empty hazelnut,

her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat.

And in this state she gallops night by night through lovers' brains,

and then they dream of...

Iove;

o'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees.

Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,

and then dreams he of cutting foreign throats;

and, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, and sleeps again.

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,

that presses them and learns them first to bear,

making them women of good carriage!

This is she!

Peace, good Mercutio, peace!

Thou talk'st of nothing.

True.

I talk of dreams,

which are the children of an idle brain,

begot of nothing but vain fantasy;

which is as thin of substance as the air and more inconstant than the wind,

who woos even now the frozen bosom of the north,

and, being angered, puffs away from thence,

turning aside to the dew-dropping south.

This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves!

Supper is done, and we shall come too late!

I fear, too early.

For my mind misgives some... consequence, yet hanging in the stars,

shall bitterly begin his fearful date with this night's revels,

and expire the term...

of a despised life closed within my breast...

by some vile forfeit of untimely death.

But he that hath the steerage of my course

direct my sail!

On, lusty gentlemen!

Thy drugs are quick.

I have seen the day that I could tell

a whispering tale in a fair lady's ear such as would please.

Amore! Amore!

Amore...

Pride can stand a thousand trials

The strong will never fall

But watching stars without you

My soul cried

Heaving heart

Is full of pain

Oh, oh

The aching

Cos I'm kissing you

I'm kissing you

Madam, your mother calls!

Touch me deep

Pure and true

Will you now deny to dance?

A man, young lady. Such a man!

What!

Dares that slave come hither to fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, to strike him dead I hold it not a sin!

Why, how now, kinsman! Wherefore storm you so?

Uncle, this is that villain Romeo. A Montague, our foe.

- Romeo is it? - 'Tis he.

Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone.

I would not for the wealth of all this town

here in my house do him disparagement.

Therefore be patient, take no note of him.

Uncle, I'll not endure him.

He shall be endured.

Go to!

What, goodman boy? I say he shall!

Go to!

Uncle, 'tis a shame.

Make a mutiny among my guests?

Did my heart love till now?

Forswear it, sight.

For I never saw true beauty till this night.

Where are you now?

Cos I'm kissing you

I'm kissing you now

If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine,

the gentle sin is this.

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

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.

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

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

Well, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.

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

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

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

Dave!

Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

Then have my lips the sin that they have took?

Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my sin again.

You kiss by the book.

Juliet! Juliet! Oh!

Juliet?

Juliet!

Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

Come, let's away!

Is she a Capulet?

His name is Romeo, and he's a Montague,

the only son of your great enemy.

Away, be gone. The sport is at its best.

Ay, so I fear. The more is my unrest.

I am a pretty piece offlesh!

I am a pretty piece of flesh! I am!

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.

I will withdraw.

But this intrusion shall, now seeming sweet,

convert to bitterest gall.

A pretty piece of flesh! I am!

A pretty piece of...

Romeo!

- Romeo! - Romeo!

Romeo!

Humours! Madman!

Passion! Lover!

I will conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,

by her high forehead and her scarlet lip,

by her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh!

O Romeo, that she were an open-ass and thou a poperin pear!

He jests at scars that never felt the wound.

Romeo!

Good night!

I'll to my truckle-bed. This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.

But soft!

What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east,

and Juliet is the sun!

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

who is already sick and pale with grief

that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Be not her maid, since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it.

O cast it off!

It is my lady, it is my love.

O that she knew she were.

Ay me!

She speaks.

Speak again, bright angel.

Romeo.

O Romeo!

Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Shall I hear more,

or shall I speak at this?

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague?

It is not hand,

nor foot, nor arm, nor face,

nor any other part belonging to a man.

O be some other name!

What's in a name?

That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,

retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.

Romeo, doff thy name;

and for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.

I take thee at thy word.

Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.

How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

The garden walls are high and hard to climb,

and the place death, considering who thou art.

With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls,

for stony limits cannot hold love out,

and what love can do, that dares love attempt.

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me!

If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes.

But thou love me,

Iet them find me here.

My life were better ended by their hate than death prorogued,