The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1016 page)

Nurse

Yes, this is the rope ladder.

Ay, ay, the cords.

(Throws it down.)

Juliet

Well, what is your news?  Why do you look so worried?

Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?

Nurse

It has been a day!  He’s dead.  He’s dead.  He’s dead!  We are in big trouble, lady, big trouble.  What an awful day—He’s gone, he’s killed, and he’s dead.

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 jealous?

Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse

Romeo can be, but not heaven.  Romeo, Romeo!  Who would have ever thought him capable of such awfulness?

Romeo can, Though heaven cannot.--O Romeo, Romeo!-- Who ever would have thought it?--Romeo!

Juliet

Stop talking like that!  It is torture.  Has Romeo killed himself?  If you say, yes, then I will poison myself.  If he is dead, say yes or no.  Hurry, and end my worries and decide my fate.

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 with my own eyes.  He was stabbed in the breast and pale from the loss of blood.  I saw the gory mess and nearly fainted.

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

Go ahead heart and break.  I wish to die or be put in to prison, never to be free again.  Put me in the ground with Romeo.

O, break, my heart!--poor bankrout, 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

Oh, Tybalt.  He was the best friend I ever had.  Oh polite, honest, Tybalt, I never thought I would live to see your death.

O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Juliet

What are you talking about?  Are Romeo, my husband, and Tybalt, my cousin, both dead?  How could something so terrible happen?  What is left to live for, if they are gone?

What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? My dear-lov'd 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 is banished.  Romeo killed Tybalt, and now he is banished.

Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.

Juliet

Oh God!  Romeo killed Tybalt?

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

Nurse

Yes, he did, today.

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

Juliet

He is a snake hiding in the flowers.  He is a dragon deep in a beautiful cave.  Beautiful tyrant!  Angelic fiend!  White raven!  A predator!  He seems so divine, but he is just the opposite.  He is like a damned saint or cunning villain.  Oh nature, how did such a beautiful creature be born with such fiendish ways?  Was there ever a book on evil bound in such a beautiful way?  I can’t believe someone so deceitful could be so gorgeous.

. 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 mortal 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

You cannot trust men.  They are not honest or faithful.  Where’s my servant?  Give me something to drink.  All of this is making me feel old.  Shame on Romeo.

There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, 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

Hold your tongue.  Don’t say such a thing.  He is not meant for shame and deserves nothing but honor.  Why did I let myself get so angry?

Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is asham'd 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

How can you speak well of your cousin’s murderer?

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

Juliet

Would you rather I speak badly about my husband?  My poor husband, how can we clear your name, when your wife of three hours can’t stand by you?  I’m sure you were only acting in self-defense.  I will not cry tears of sadness, but tears of joy, because Romeo is alive.  There is still news I want to forget, and that makes me want to die.  Romeo is banished.  Nothing, not even Tybalt’s death, or my mother’s and father’s deaths, is as bad as that.  Romeo is banished.  Where is my mother and father, Nurse?

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 lamentation might have mov'd? 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

Grieving over Tybalt.  Would you like to join them?  I can take you.

Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Juliet

Well, they can grieve over him all they want, but my tears are for Romeo.  Pick up that rope ladder.  We are both useless, now.  I am destined to be an old maid.  Come on, Nurse, bring that rope ladder with me to my wedding bed, and let death come take me tonight.

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 beguil'd, Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd: 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

Go to your room, and I’ll find Romeo for you.  I know where he is and he’ll be here tonight.  I’ll go to him at Friar Lawrence’s house.

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 Lawrence' cell.

Juliet

Oh, Nurse, find him!  Give him this ring and tell him to come and say his last goodbye.

O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell.

(Exit all.)

Scene III:  Friar Lawrence’s house.

(Enter Friar Lawrence.)

Friar Lawrence
 

Come out Romeo.  Don’t be afraid, even though “tragedy” is in love with you and you are married to “trouble.”

Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. Affliction is enanmour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.

Romeo

Do you have any news?  What is the Prince’s sentence?  What else must I endure?

Father, what news? what is the prince's doom What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?

Friar Lawrence

You have spent too much time suffering.  I have news from the Prince.

Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company: I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Romeo

Is it less than my doom?

What less than doomsday is the prince's doom?

Friar Lawrence

Yes, you are not doomed to die, but to be banished.

A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,-- Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Romeo

Banishment, are you kidding?  Death is better than banishment.  Don’t say banishment.

Ha, banishment? be merciful, say death; For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death; do not say banishment.

Friar Lawrence

You are banished from Verona, but the world is a huge place.

Hence from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Romeo

There is no world outside of Verona for me, except for purgatory or hell.  So, banishment is death for me.  Banishment is like a golden axe cutting off my head.

There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, And world's exile is death,--then banished Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

Friar Lawrence

How dare you talk that way, you rude and thankless boy?  The Prince is being kind to you and not holding you to the law.  This is mercy, although you refuse to see it.  

O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, Taking thy part, hath brush'd aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment: This is dear mercy, and thou see'st it not.

Romeo

This is not mercy; it is torture.  I want to be here with Juliet where I can look at her like every other undeserving creature.  Flies are now more honorable than me.  Flies can touch her hands and lips, lips that she thinks are sinful even if they touch each other.  I cannot; I am banished.  I must flee and leave behind my life.  Isn’t that death?  Don’t you have a poison, sharp knife or some other deadly weapon you could use to kill me quickly?  Banishment will kill me slowly.  Banishment is hell that demons howl about.  If you are a man of God and my friend, how can you tear me apart with the word, banishment?

 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven, and may look on her; But Romeo may not.--More validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo: they may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, And steal immortal blessing from her lips; Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; he is banished,-- This may flies do, when I from this must fly. And sayest thou yet that exile is not death! Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But banished to kill me; banished? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word banishment?

Friar Lawrence

You, madman, listen to me…

Thou fond mad man, hear me speak a little,--

Romeo

You will speak of banishment again.

O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar Lawrence

I only want to help you.  

I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Romeo

Unless you can figure out a way for Juliet and me to be together or a way to reverse the Prince’s sentence, don’t speak.

Yet banished? Hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, It helps not, it prevails not,--talk no more.