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Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named
Montagu and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as
sensible, in most things, as other rich people. But in one thing
they were extremely silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the
two families, and instead of making it up like reasonable folks,
they made a sort of pet of their quarrel, and would not let it die
out. So that a Montagu wouldn't speak to a Capulet if he met one in
the street--nor a Capulet to a Montagu--or if they did speak, it was
to say rude and unpleasant things, which often ended in a fight. And
their relations and servants were just as foolish, so that street
fights and duels and uncomfortablenesses of that kind were always
growing out of the Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel.
Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand
supper and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone
might come to it except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a
young Montagu named Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because
Rosaline, the lady he loved, had been asked. This lady had never
been at all kind to him, and he had no reason to love her; but the
fact was that he wanted to love somebody, and as he hadn't seen the
right lady, he was obliged to love the wrong one. So to the
Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends Mercutio and
Benvolio.
Old Capulet welcomed him and his two friends very kindly--and young
Romeo moved about among the crowd of courtly folk dressed in their
velvets and satins, the men with jeweled sword hilts and collars,
and the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and arms, and stones of
price set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his best too, and
though he wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone could
see by his mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he
was twelve times handsomer than anyone else in the room.
Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable
that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that
Rosaline whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this other
fair lady, as she moved in the dance in her white satin and pearls,
and all the world seemed vain and worthless to him compared with
her. And he was saying this, or something like it, when Tybalt, Lady
Capulet's nephew, hearing his voice, knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt,
being very angry, went at once to his uncle, and told him how a
Montagu had come uninvited to the feast; but old Capulet was too
fine a gentleman to be discourteous to any man under his own roof,
and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young man only waited for a
chance to quarrel with Romeo.
In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in
sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother
sent for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had
set his heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his
sworn foe. So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none
the less.
Then Juliet said to her nurse:
"Who is that gentleman that would not dance?"
"His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great
enemy," answered the nurse.
Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the
beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo
was hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear
to go right away without trying to see her again. So she--not
knowing him to be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told
the quiet garden how she loved Romeo.
And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked
up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming
creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened,
he felt as though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down
by some magician in that beautiful and enchanted garden.
"Ah--why are you called Romeo?" said Juliet. "Since I love you, what
does it matter what you are called?"
"Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will
be Romeo," he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the
shade of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him.
She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo
himself, and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the
garden below and she leaning from the window, they spoke long
together, each one trying to find the sweetest words in the world,
to make that pleasant talk that lovers use. And the tale of all they
said, and the sweet music their voices made together, is all set
down in a golden book, where you children may read it for yourselves
some day.
And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each
other and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed
as though they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew
how to part.
"I will send to you to-morrow," said Juliet.
And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye.
Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window.
Romeo went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a
dream.
The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a
priest, and, telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to
Juliet without delay. And this, after some talk, the priest
consented to do.
So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he
purposed to do, the old woman took back a a message that all was
well, and all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on
the next morning.
The young lovers were afraid to ask their parents' consent to their
marriage, as young people should do, because of this foolish old
quarrel between the Capulets and the Montagues.
And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly,
because he thought that when they were once married their parents
might soon be told, and that the match might put a happy end to the
old quarrel.
So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar
Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo
promised to come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got
ready a rope-ladder to let down from the window, so that Romeo could
climb up and talk to his dear wife quietly and alone.
But that very day a dreadful thing happened.
Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the
Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio,
in the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo
had no wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his
sword, and he and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo
saw that this friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at
the man who had killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt
fell dead.
So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's
cousin, and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young
husband met that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the
flowers, and found her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and
they parted with bitter tears and hearts heavy, because they could
not know when they should meet again.
Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was
married, wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry
when she refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what
she should do. He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he
said:
"I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for
two days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury
you, and not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking
you are dead, and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to
take care of you. Will you do this, or are you afraid?"
"I will do it; talk not to me of fear!" said Juliet. And she went
home and told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken
out and told her father the truth . . . well, then this would have
been a different story.
Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about
inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone
stayed up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very
little time to do it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet
married because he saw she was very unhappy. Of course she was
really fretting about her husband Romeo, but her father thought she
was grieving for the death of her cousin Tybalt, and he thought
marriage would give her something else to think about.
Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her
for her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried
out suddenly--
"Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I
was born!"
Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris,
the bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and
all their weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day
instead of a marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger
to Mantua with a letter to Romeo telling him of all these things;
and all would have been well, only the messenger was delayed, and
could not go.
But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant who knew the secret of
the marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, heard of her
funeral, and hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young wife was
dead and lying in the grave.
"Is it so?" cried Romeo, heart-broken. "Then I will lie by Juliet's
side to-night."
And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He
hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but
a vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone
steps that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he
heard a voice behind him calling on him to stop.
It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very
day.
"How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets,
you vile Montagu?" cried Paris.
Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently.
"You were told," said Paris, "that if you returned to Verona you
must die."
"I must indeed," said Romeo. "I came here for nothing else. Good,
gentle youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you
better than myself--go--leave me here--"
Then Paris said, "I defy you, and I arrest you as a felon," and
Romeo, in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They fought, and
Paris was killed.
As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried--
"Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with
Juliet!"
And Romeo said, "In faith I will."
And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear
Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held
her in his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was
dead, while all the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the
time of her awakening. Then he drank the poison, and died beside his
sweetheart and wife.
Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had
happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her
husband and her friend both dead beside her.
The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and
Friar Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone.
She saw the cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had
happened, and since no poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's
dagger and thrust it through her heart--and so, falling with her
head on her Romeo's breast, she died. And here ends the story of
these faithful and most unhappy lovers.
* * * * * * *
And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had
befallen, they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the
mischief their wicked quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it,
and over the bodies of their dead children they clasped hands at
last, in friendship and forgiveness.
Romeo And Juliet
A Classic English Shakespeare Story
by
Edith Nesbit |
