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SCENE II. Capulet's orchard.

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.

Exeunt

 

朱丽叶上。

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。

乳媪携绳上。

朱丽叶她带着消息来了。谁的舌头上只要说出了罗密欧的名字,他就在吐露着天上的仙音。奶妈,什么消息?你带着些什么来了?那就是罗密欧叫你去拿的绳子吗?

乳媪是的,是的,这绳子。(将绳掷下。)

朱丽叶嗳哟!什么事?你为什么扭着你的手?

乳媪唉!唉!唉!他死了,他死了,他死了!我们完了,小姐,我们完了!唉!他去了,他给人杀了,他死了!

朱丽叶天道竟会这样狠毒吗?

乳媪不是天道狠毒,罗密欧才下得了这样狠毒的手。啊!罗密欧,罗密欧!谁想得到会有这样的事情?罗密欧!

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。

乳媪我看见他的伤口,我亲眼看见他的伤口,慈悲的上帝!就在他的宽阔的胸上。一个可怜的尸体,一个可怜的流血的尸体,像灰一样苍白,满身都是血,满身都是一块块的血;我一瞧见就晕过去了。

朱丽叶啊,我的心要碎了!——可怜的破产者,你已经丧失了一切,还是赶快碎裂了吧!失去了光明的眼睛,你从此不能再见天日了!你这俗恶的泥土之躯,赶快停止呼吸,复归于泥土,去和罗密欧同眠在一个圹穴里吧!

乳媪啊!提伯尔特,提伯尔特!我的顶好的朋友!啊,温文的提伯尔特,正直的绅士!想不到我活到今天,却会看见你死去!

朱丽叶这是一阵什么风暴,一会儿又倒转方向!罗密欧给人杀了,提伯尔特又死了吗?一个是我的最亲爱的表哥,一个是我的更亲爱的夫君?那么,可怕的号角,宣布世界末日的来临吧!要是这样两个人都可以死去,谁还应该活在这世上?

乳媪提伯尔特死了,罗密欧放逐了;罗密欧杀了提伯尔特,他现在被放逐了。

朱丽叶上帝啊!提伯尔特是死在罗密欧手里的吗?

乳媪是的,是的;唉!是的。

朱丽叶啊,花一样的面庞里藏着蛇一样的心!那一条恶龙曾经栖息在这样清雅的洞府里?美丽的暴君!天使般的魔鬼!披着白鸽羽毛的乌鸦!豺狼一样残忍的羔羊!圣洁的外表包覆着丑恶的实质!你的内心刚巧和你的形状相反,一个万恶的圣人,一个庄严的奸徒!造物主啊!你为什么要从地狱里提出这一个恶魔的灵魂,把它安放在这样可爱的一座肉体的天堂里?哪一本邪恶的书籍曾经装订得这样美观?啊!谁想得到这样一座富丽的宫殿里,会容纳着欺人的虚伪!

乳媪男人都靠不住,没有良心,没有真心的;谁都是三心二意,反复无常,奸恶多端,尽是些骗子。啊!我的人呢?快给我倒点儿酒来;这些悲伤烦恼,已经使我老起来了。愿耻辱降临到罗密欧的头上!

朱丽叶你说出这样的愿望,你的舌头上就应该长起水疱来!耻辱从来不曾和他在一起,它不敢侵上他的眉宇,因为那是君临天下的荣誉的宝座。啊!我刚才把他这样辱骂,我真是个畜生!

乳媪杀死了你的族兄的人,你还说他好话吗?

朱丽叶他是我的丈夫,我应当说他坏话吗?啊!我的可怜的丈夫!你的三小时的妻子都这样凌辱你的名字,谁还会对它说一句温情的慰藉呢?可是你这恶人,你为什么杀死我的哥哥?他要是不杀死我的哥哥,我的凶恶的哥哥就会杀死我的丈夫。回去吧,愚蠢的眼泪,流回到你的源头;你那滴滴的细流,本来是悲哀的倾注,可是你却错把它呈献给喜悦。我的丈夫活着,他没有被提伯尔特杀死;提伯尔特死了,他想要杀死我的丈夫!这明明是喜讯,我为什么要哭泣呢?还有两个字比提伯尔特的死更使我痛心,像一柄利刃刺进了我的胸中;我但愿忘了它们,可是唉!它们紧紧地牢附在我的记忆里,就像萦回在罪人脑中的不可宥恕的罪恶。“提伯尔特死了,罗密欧放逐了!”放逐了!这“放逐”两个字,就等于杀死了一万个提伯尔特。单单提伯尔特的死,已经可以令人伤心了;即使祸不单行,必须在“提伯尔特死了”这一句话以后,再接上一句不幸的消息,为什么不说你的父亲,或是你的母亲,或是父母两人都死了,那也可以引起一点人情之常的哀悼?可是在提伯尔特的噩耗以后,再接连一记更大的打击,“罗密欧放逐了!”这句话简直等于说,父亲、母亲、提伯尔特、罗密欧、朱丽叶,一起被杀,一起死了。“罗密欧放逐了!”这一句话里面包含着无穷无际、无极无限的死亡,没有字句能够形容出这里面蕴蓄着的悲伤。——奶妈,我的父亲、我的母亲呢?

乳媪他们正在抚着提伯尔特的尸体痛哭。你要去看他们吗?让我带着你去。

朱丽叶让他们用眼泪洗涤他的伤口,我的眼泪是要留着为罗密欧的放逐而哀哭的。拾起那些绳子来。可怜的绳子,你是失望了,我们俩都失望了,因为罗密欧已经被放逐;他要借着你做接引相思的桥梁,可是我却要做一个独守空闺的怨女而死去。来,绳儿;来,奶妈。我要去睡上我的新床,把我的童贞奉献给死亡!

乳媪那么你快到房里去吧;我去找罗密欧来安慰你,我知道他在什么地方。听着,你的罗密欧今天晚上一定会来看你;他现在躲在劳伦斯神父的寺院里,我就去找他。

朱丽叶啊!你快去找他;把这指环拿去给我的忠心的骑士,叫他来作一次最后的诀别。(各下。)