MERCUTIO: Young hearts run free.
Never be caught up, caught up like Rosaline and thee. Nay, gentle
Romeo, we must have you dance.
ROMEO: Not I, Not I believe me;
you have dancing shoes with nimble soles, I have a soul of lead.
MERCUTIO: You are a lover; borrow
Cupid's wings, and soar with them above a common bound.
ROMEO: Under love's heavy burden
do I sink.
MERCUTIO: Too great oppression
for a tender thing.
ROMEO: Is love a tender thing?
It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like
thorn.
MERCUTIO: If love be rough with
you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat
love down.
BENVOLIO: Every man betake him
to his legs!
ROMEO: But 'tis no will to go!
MERCUTIO: Why, may one ask?
ROMEO: I dream't a dream tonight.
MERCUTIO: And so did I.
ROMEO: Well, what was yours?!
MERCUTIO: That dreamers often
lie.
ROMEO: In bed asleep, while they
do dream things true?!
MERCUTIO: O, then, I see Queen
Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, And she comes
in shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an
alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men's noses
as they lie asleep; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut. Her wagoner
a small grey-coated gnat, And in this state she gallops night
by night, Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
Or lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, Sometime she
driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign
throats, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two and sleeps
again. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses
them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good
carriage: This is she--THIS IS SHE!
ROMEO: Peace, good Mercutio, peace.
Thou talk'st of nothing.
MERCUTIO: True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but
vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more
inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom
of the North, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning
his side to the dew-dropping south.
BENVOLIO: This wind, you talk
of, blows us from ourselves; supper is done, and we shall come
too late.
ROMEO: I fear, too early: for
my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall
bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire
the term Of a despised life closed within my breast By some vile
forfeit of untimely death. But he that hath the steerage of my
course, Direct my sail. On, lusty gentlemen!
ROMEO: Your drugs are quick.
CAPULET: Ahhh, I have seen the
day that I could tell a whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
such as would please.
NURSE: Madam, your mother calls.
DAVE PARIS: Will you now deny
to dance?
LADY CAPULET: A man young lady,
such a man.
TYBALT: What? Dares that slave
come hither, to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the
stock and honor of my kin, to strike him dead, I hold it not a
sin.
CAPULET: Why, how now, kinsman!
Wherefore storm you so?
TYBALT: Uncle, this is that villian
Romeo, a Montague, our foe.
CAPULET: Young Romeo is it?
TYBALT: 'Tis he!
CAPULET: Content thee, gentle
coz, Let him alone; I would not for the wealth of all this town
here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take
no note of him.
TYBALT: I'll not endure him.
CAPULET: He shall be endured.
TYBALT: Uncle, 'tis a shame.
CAPULET: Go to! What, goodman
boy! I say he shall, go to! Make a mutiny among my guests?! Romeo+Juliet screenplay: next page
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