LADY MONTAGUE: Thou shalt not
stir one foot to seek a foe.
CAPTAIN PRINCE: Rebellious subjects,
enemies to peace, throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground!
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd
weapons to the ground!
Three civil brawls, bred of an
airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd
the quiets of our streets, If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
LADY MONTAGUE: O, where is Romeo?
Saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
BENVOLIO: Madam, underneath a
grove of sycamore so early walking did I see your son.
MONTAGUE: Many a mornings hath
he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
LADY MONTAGUE: Away from light
steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself,
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out And makes himself
an artificial night.
MONTAGUE: Black and portentous
must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
BENVOLIO: So please you, step
aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
MONTAGUE: Come, madam, let's away.
ROMEO: Why then, O brawling love,
O loving hate, O anything of nothing first create. Heavy lightness.
Serious vanity. Mis-shapen chaos of well seeming forms.
BENVOLIO: Good-morrow, cousin.
ROMEO: Is the day so young?
BENVOLIO: But new struck cuz.
ROMEO: Ay me, Sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
BENVOLIO: It was. What sadness
lengthens Romeo's hours?
ROMEO: Not having that, which,
having, makes them short.
BENVOLIO: In love?
ROMEO: Out.
BENVOLIO: Of love?
ROMEO: Out of her favour, where
I am in love.
BENVOLIO: Alas, that love, so
gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof?
ROMEO: 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?
BENVOLIO: Cuz I--
ROMEO: 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 any thing, of
nothing first create! O heavy lightness! Serious Vanity! Mis-shapen
chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead-- (Benvolio Snikers)
Dost thou not laugh?
BENVOLIO: No, coz, I rather weep.
ROMEO: Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO: At thy good heart's
oppression.
ROMEO: Farewell, my coz.
BENVOLIO: Soft! I will go along;
And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Romeo+Juliet screenplay: next page
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