SCENE II. Capulet's orchard.



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?


Ay, ay, the cords.

Throws them down


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


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!


Can heaven be so envious?


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


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.


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.


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!


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


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?


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


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


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


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!


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!


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!


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


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?


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


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!


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.


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




朱丽叶快快跑过去吧,踏着火云的骏马,把太阳拖回到它的安息的所在;但愿驾车的法厄同④(法厄同(Phaethon),是日神的儿子,曾为其父驾御日车,不能控制其马而闯离常道。故事见奥维德《变形记》第二章。 )鞭策你们飞驰到西方,让阴沉的暮夜赶快降临。展开你密密的帷幕吧,成全恋爱的黑夜!遮住夜行人的眼睛,让罗密欧悄悄地投入我的怀里,不被人家看见也不被人家谈论!恋人们可以在他们自身美貌的光辉里互相缱绻;即使恋爱是盲目的,那也正好和黑夜相称。来吧,温文的夜,你朴素的黑衣妇人,教会我怎样在一场全胜的赌博中失败,把各人纯洁的童贞互为赌注。用你黑色的罩巾遮住我脸上羞怯的红潮,等我深藏内心的爱情慢慢地胆大起来,不再因为在行动上流露真情而惭愧。来吧,黑夜!来吧,罗密欧!来吧,你黑夜中的白昼!因为你将要睡在黑夜的翼上,比乌鸦背上的新雪还要皎白。来吧,柔和的黑夜!来吧,可爱的黑颜的夜,把我的罗密欧给我!等他死了以后,你再把他带去,分散成无数的星星,把天空装饰得如此美丽,使全世界都恋爱着黑夜,不再崇拜眩目的太阳。啊!我已经买下了一所恋爱的华厦,可是它还不曾属我所有;虽然我已经把自己出卖,可是还没有被买主领去。这日子长得真叫人厌烦,正像一个做好了新衣服的小孩,在节日的前夜焦躁地等着天明一样。啊!我的奶妈来了。








朱丽叶你是个什么鬼,这样煎熬着我?这简直就是地狱里的酷刑。罗密欧把他自己杀死了吗?你只要回答我一个 “是”字,这一个“是”字就比毒龙眼里射放的死光更会致人死命。如果真有这样的事,我就不会再在人世,或者说,那叫你说声“是”的人,从此就要把眼睛紧闭。要是他死了,你就说“是”;要是他没有死,你就说“不”;这两个简单的字就可以决定我的终身祸福。