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 were. 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 uncomfortableness’s 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
With affection,
Ruben
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