The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1006 page)

Both by myself and many other friends; But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself,--I will not say how true,-- But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know.

Benvolio

Here he comes, so let me try.

See, where he comes: so please you step aside; I'll know his grievance or be much denied.

Montague
I would be more than happy for you to.
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift.--Come, madam, let's away,

(Exit Montague with Lady Montague.)

(Enter Romeo)

Benvolio

Good morning, cousin.

Good morrow, cousin.

Romeo

Is it morning?

Is the day so young?

Benvolio

It is only 9 o’clock.

But new struck nine.

Romeo

My sadness does not know time.  Was that my father leaving so fast?

Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?

Benvolio

Yes, it was.  What makes you so sad that time stands still.

It was.--What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

Romeo

Wanting what I cannot have.

Not having that which, having, makes them short.

Benvolio

Are you in love?

In love?

Romeo

Out…

Out,--

Benvolio

Out of love?

Of love?

Romeo

No, she is out of love with me.

Out of her favour where I am in love.

Benvolio

Love looks nice from the outside but can be very painful inside.

Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Romeo

Love is blind.  Ha!  Love will make you do whatever it wants; it controls you.  Let’s go eat.

(Sees blood on Benvolio.)  Oh, no!  What happened?  Don’t tell me.  I know all about it, the trouble of those who love to hate, and hateful love.  Sickening beauty, feather of lead, bright darkness, cold fire, sick health!  That is what love is, confusing and contradictory.  This is the love I feel.  Are you laughing at me?

Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!-- Where shall we dine?--O me!--What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have 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! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!-- This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh?

Benvolio

No, I would rather cry than laugh at you.

No, coz, I rather weep.

Romeo

Cry, at what?

Good heart, at what?

Benvolio

At your foul disposition.

At thy good heart's oppression.

Romeo

I feel so heavy at heart, and yet, you want to add your sadness to mine.  I cannot take anymore.  Love is a smoldering fire ignited by your lover’s eyes.  Love is an ocean created by your lover’s tears.  It is a secret madness, a poison, a savory sweet.  I am out of here.  Goodbye, Benvolio.

Why, such is love's transgression.-- Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.-- Farewell, my coz.

Benvolio

Hey, you can’t leave me like this.  I will go with you.

Soft! I will go along: An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

Romeo

With me?  You don’t know me. I am not Romeo.  I do not even know who I am anymore.

Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here: This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

Benvolio

Tell me who it is you love?

Tell me in sadness who is that you love?

Romeo

Why?  What good will it do?

What, shall I groan and tell thee?

Benvolio

It will make you feel better to tell someone.

Groan! why, no; But sadly tell me who.

Romeo

Leave me alone and just let me be sad.  All I can say is that I am in love with a woman.

Bid a sick man in sadness make his will,-- Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!-- In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Benvolio

I knew that much.

I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd.

Romeo

Well, good job.  She is a beautiful woman.

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

Benvolio

I figured that much.  Cupid’s arrow always hits the beautiful ones first.

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

Romeo

Well, you’re wrong about that.  She has not been pierced by Cupids arrow.  She has the goddess, Diana’s, wit, and she vows to remain chaste.  She will not allow herself to fall in love or even be looked at as the object of love.  She will not accept gifts and her beauty is going to die with her.

Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow,--she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she's rich in beauty; only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

Benvolio

You mean, she has sworn to stay a virgin all of her life?

Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

Romeo

She has and what a waste.  Beauty like hers is rare, but it will end with her since she will not have children.  Oh, how I want her, but cannot have her.  I feel like I am going to die.

She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair: She hath forsworn to love; and in that vow Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

Benvolio

Listen to me.  Stop thinking about her.

Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.

Romeo

I would if I could.  Teach me how.

O, teach me how I should forget to think.

Benvolio

Listen to me.  Look for someone else.  There are many beautiful girls out there.

By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties.

Romeo

What good would it do?  Once you have seen the most beautiful girl, no other one will do.

They pale in comparison.  So leave me alone now.  You cannot help me.

'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more: These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair; He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve but as a note Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.

Benvolio

I will help you, or die trying.

I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

(Exit all.)

Scene II:  A Street

(Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.)

Capulet

If both Montague and I are alike and receive the same penalty, I do not think we will have a hard time keeping the peace.

But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Paris

True, you are both honorable men, and it is a shame that you have been at this feud for so long.  So, what do you think about my proposition?

Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

Capulet

My daughter is only thirteen years old.  Let’s wait a couple more years for her to mature, before we make her a bride.

But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Paris

Many girls younger than her are mothers by now.

Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Capulet

However, those girls marry too young.  My daughter means the world to me.  So, date her, Paris, and try to win her heart, because my consent means nothing, if she does not agree.  Why don’t you come to my house tonight?  We are having a party and I have invited many of my friends.  One more guest won’t hurt.  You will be surrounded by young girls, as many as the stars in the skies.  After that, you may not have your heart set on my daughter.  Here is a list of the guests.  (Hands Servant a paper.)  Go find the people on this list and tell them they are invited to the party.  Come on, Paris.  Let’s go.

And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,-- She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be: Which, among view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me.--Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, [gives a paper] and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

(Exit Capulet and Paris.)

Servant

Find the guests on the list!  A shoemaker works in his yard, a tailor works on his art, a fisher works with his pencil and a painter works with his nets!  Me, I am sent to find his guests whose names I cannot make out.  I must learn to read, eventually!  Here comes someone to help me.

Find them out whose names are written here! It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned:--in good time!

(Enter Benvolio and Romeo.)

Benvolio

Hey, one man loses a lover while another one gains, and one man finds pain while another one’s is taken away.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  Look up.  If you find a new girl, you will feel better.

Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish: Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.

Romeo

You think you know the cure for what ails me.

Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that.

Benvolio

Cure for what?

For what, I pray thee?

Romeo

My broken leg.

For your broken shin.

Benvolio

Are you crazy, Romeo?

Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

Romeo

Only crazy in love, crazy like a locked-up madman hungering for food and tortured every day.  (To Servant)  Hello.

Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.

Servant

Good evening, sir.  May I ask if you can read?