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SCENE III. Friar Laurence's cell.

 

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket

FRIAR LAURENCE

The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
What is her burying grave that is her womb,
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find,
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give,
Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence and medicine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter ROMEO

ROMEO

Good morrow, father.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

ROMEO

That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE

God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

ROMEO

With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

FRIAR LAURENCE

That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?

ROMEO

I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded: both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies:
I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

ROMEO

Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combined, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when and where and how
We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

ROMEO

Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR LAURENCE

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

ROMEO

And bad'st me bury love.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Not in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.

ROMEO

I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

FRIAR LAURENCE

O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

ROMEO

O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

Exeunt

 

劳伦斯神父携篮上。

劳伦斯黎明笑向着含愠的残宵,

金鳞浮上了东方的天梢;

看赤轮驱走了片片乌云,

像一群醉汉向四处狼奔。

趁太阳还没有睁开火眼,

晒干深夜里的涔涔露点,

我待要采摘下满箧盈筐,

毒草灵葩充实我的青囊。

大地是生化万类的慈母,

她又是掩藏群生的坟墓,

试看她无所不载的胸怀,

哺乳着多少的姹女婴孩!

天生下的万物没有弃掷,

什么都有它各自的特色,

石块的冥顽,草木的无知,

都含着玄妙的造化生机。

莫看那蠢蠢的恶木莠蔓,

对世间都有它特殊贡献;

即使最纯良的美谷嘉禾,

用得失当也会害性戕躯。

美德的误用会变成罪过,

罪恶有时反会造成善果。

这一朵有毒的弱蕊纤苞,

也会把淹煎的痼疾医疗;

它的香味可以祛除百病,

吃下腹中却会昏迷不醒。

草木和人心并没有不同,

各自有善意和恶念争雄;

恶的势力倘然占了上风,

死便会蛀蚀进它的心中。

罗密欧上。

罗密欧早安,神父。

劳伦斯上帝祝福你!是谁的温柔的声音这么早就在叫我?孩子,你一早起身,一定有什么心事。老年人因为多忧多虑,往往容易失眠,可是身心壮健的青年,一上了床就应该酣然入睡;所以你的早起,倘不是因为有什么烦恼,一定是昨夜没有睡过觉。

罗密欧你的第二个猜测是对的;我昨夜享受到比睡眠更甜蜜的安息。

劳伦斯上帝饶恕我们的罪恶!你是跟罗瑟琳在一起吗?

罗密欧跟罗瑟琳在一起,我的神父?不,我已经忘记了那一个名字,和那个名字所带来的烦恼。

劳伦斯那才是我的好孩子;可是你究竟到什么地方去了?

罗密欧我愿意在你没有问我第二遍以前告诉你。昨天晚上我跟我的仇敌在一起宴会,突然有一个人伤害了我,同时她也被我伤害了;只有你的帮助和你的圣药,才会医治我们两人的重伤。神父,我并不怨恨我的敌人,因为瞧,我来向你请求的事,不单为了我自己,也同样为了她。

劳伦斯好孩子,说明白一点,把你的意思老老实实告诉我,别打着哑谜了。

罗密欧那么老实告诉你吧,我心底的一往深情,已经完全倾注在凯普莱特的美丽的女儿身上了。她也同样爱着我;一切都完全定当了,只要你肯替我们主持神圣的婚礼。我们在什么时候遇见,在什么地方求爱,怎样彼此交换着盟誓,这一切我都可以慢慢告诉你;可是无论如何,请你一定答应就在今天替我们成婚。

劳伦斯圣芳济啊!多么快的变化!难道你所深爱着的罗瑟琳,就这样一下子被你抛弃了吗?这样看来,年轻人的爱情,都是见异思迁,不是发于真心的。耶稣,马利亚!你为了罗瑟琳的缘故,曾经用多少的眼泪洗过你消瘦的面庞!为了替无味的爱情添加一点辛酸的味道,曾经浪费掉多少的咸水!太阳还没有扫清你吐向苍穹的怨气,我这龙钟的耳朵里还留着你往日的呻吟!瞧!就在你自己的颊上,还剩着一丝不曾揩去的旧时的泪痕。要是你不曾变了一个人,这些悲哀都是你真实的情感,那么你是罗瑟琳的,这些悲哀也是为罗瑟琳而发的;难道你现在已经变心了吗?男人既然这样没有恒心,那就莫怪女人家朝三暮四了。

罗密欧你常常因为我爱罗瑟琳而责备我。

劳伦斯我的学生,我不是说你不该恋爱,我只叫你不要因为恋爱而发痴。

罗密欧你又叫我把爱情埋葬在坟墓里。

劳伦斯我没有叫你把旧的爱情埋葬了,再去另找新欢。

罗密欧请你不要责备我;我现在所爱的她,跟我心心相印,不像前回那个一样。

劳伦斯啊,罗瑟琳知道你对她的爱情完全抄着人云亦云的老调,你还没有读过恋爱入门的一课哩。可是来吧,朝三暮四的青年,跟我来;为了一个理由,我愿意帮助你一臂之力:因为你们的结合也许会使你们两家释嫌修好,那就是天大的幸事了。

罗密欧啊!我们就去吧,我巴不得越快越好。

劳伦斯凡事三思而行;跑得太快是会滑倒的。(同下。)