《罗密欧与朱丽叶》中英文全本

《罗密欧与朱丽叶》中英文全本

THE PROLOGUE

PERSONS REPRESENTED

Escalus, Prince of Verona.

Paris, a young Nobleman, kinsman to the Prince.

Montague,}Heads of two Houses at variance with each other.

Capulet, } An Old Man, Uncle to Capulet.

Romeo, Son to Montague.

Mercutio, Kinsman to the Prince, and Friend to Romeo.

Benvolio, Nephew to Montague, and Friend to Romeo.

Tybalt, Nephew to Lady Capulet.

Friar Lawrence, a Franciscan.

Friar John, of the same Order.

Balthasar, Servant to Romeo.

Sampson, Servant to Capulet.

Gregory, Servant to Capulet.

Peter, Servant to Juliet

’

s Nurse.

Abraham, Servant to Montague. An Apothecary.

Three Musicians.

Chorus.

Page to Paris; another Page.

An Officer.

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Lady Montague, Wife to Montague.

Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet.

Juliet, Daughter to Capulet.

Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both

houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.

SCENE.--During the greater part of the Play in Verona; once, in

the Fifth Act, at Mantua.

(Enter Chorus.)

Chor. Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona,

where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new

mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From

forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star- cross

’

d

lovers take their life; Whose misadventur

’

d piteous overthrows

Doth with their death bury their parents

’

strife. The fearful

passage of their death- mark

’

d love, And the continuance of their

parents

’

rage, Which but their children

’

s end naught could

remove, Is now the two hours

’

traffic of our stage; The which, if

you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall

strive to mend.

剧中人物

爱斯卡勒斯

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维洛那亲王

帕里斯

少年贵族，亲王的亲戚

蒙太古凯普莱特

互相敌视的两家家长

罗密欧

蒙太古之子

茂丘西奥

亲王的亲戚

班伏里奥

蒙太古之侄

罗密欧的朋友

提伯尔特

凯普莱特夫人之内侄

劳伦斯神父

法兰西斯派教士

约翰神父

与劳伦斯同门的教士

鲍尔萨泽

罗密欧的仆人

山普孙葛莱古里

凯普莱特的仆人

彼得

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朱丽叶乳媪的从仆

亚伯拉罕

蒙太古的仆人

卖药人

乐工三人

茂丘西奥的侍童

帕里斯的侍童

蒙太古夫人

凯普莱特夫人

朱丽叶

凯普莱特之女

朱丽叶的乳媪

维洛那市民；两家男女 亲属；跳舞者、卫士、巡丁及侍从等

致辞者

地点维洛那；第五幕第一场在曼多亚

开场诗

致辞者上。

故事发生在维洛那名城，

有两家门第相当的巨族，

累世的宿怨激起了新争，

鲜血把市民的白手污渎。

是命运注定这两家仇敌，

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生下了一双不幸的恋人，

他们的悲惨凄凉的殒灭，

和解了他们交恶的尊亲。

这一段生生死死的恋爱，

还有那两家父母的嫌隙，

把一对多情的儿女杀害，

演成了今天这一本戏剧。

交代过这几句挈领提纲，

请诸位耐着 心细听端详。

（下。

）

ACT I. Page

１

Scene I. A public place.

(Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers.)

Sampson. Gregory, o

’

my word, we

’

ll not carry coals.

Gregory. No, for then we should be colliers.

Sampson. I mean, an we be in choler we

’

ll draw.

Gregory. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o

’

the collar.

Sampson. I strike quickly, being moved.

Gregory. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

Sampson. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

Gregory. To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:

therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn

’

st away.

Sampson. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will

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take the wall of any man or maid of Montague

’

s.

Gregory. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to

the wall.

Sampson. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,

are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague

’

s men

from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall.

Gregory. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

Sampson.

‘

Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have

fought with the men I will be cruel with the maids, I will cut off

their heads.

Gregory. The heads of the maids?

Sampson. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take

it in what sense thou wilt.

Gregory. They must take it in sense that feel it.

Sampson. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and

‘

tis

known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Gregory.

‘

Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst

been poor- John.--Draw thy tool; Here comes two of the house of

Montagues.

Sampson. My naked weapon is out: quarrel! I will back thee.

Gregory. How! turn thy back and run?

Sampson. Fear me not.

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Gregory. No, marry; I fear thee!

Sampson. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

Gregory. I will frown as I pass by; and let them take it as they

list.

Sampson. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;

which is disgrace to them if they bear it.

(Enter Abraham and Balthasar.)

Abraham. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sampson. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abraham. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sampson. Is the law of our side if I say ay?

Gregory. No.

Sampson. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite

my thumb, sir.

Gregory. Do you quarrel, sir?

Abraham. Quarrel, sir! no, sir.

Sampson. But if you do, sir, am for you: I serve as good a man

as you.

Abraham. No better.

Sampson. Well, sir.

Gregory. Say better; here comes one of my master

’

s kinsmen.

Sampson. Yes, better, sir.

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Abraham. You lie.

Sampson. Draw, if you be men.--Gregory, remember thy

swashing blow.

(They fight.)

(Enter Benvolio.)

Benvolio. Part, fools! put up your swords; you know not what

you do. (Beats down their swords.)

(Enter Tybalt.)

Tybalt. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn

thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.

Benvolio. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, Or manage

it to part these men with me.

Tybalt. What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word As I hate

hell, all Montagues, and thee: Have at thee, coward!

(They fight.)

(Enter several of both Houses, who join the fray; then enter

Citizens with clubs.)

1 Citizen. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!

Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!

(Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady Capulet.)

Capulet. What noise is this? --Give me my long sword, ho!

Lady Capulet. A crutch, a crutch!--Why call you for a sword?

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Capulet. My sword, I say!--Old Montague is come, And

flourishes his blade in spite of me.

(Enter Montague and his Lady Montague.)

Montague. Thou villain Capulet!-- Hold me not, let me go.

Lady Montague. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

(Enter Prince, with Attendants.)

Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this

neighbour-stained steel,-- Will they not hear?--What, ho! you

men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

With purple fountains issuing from your veins,-- On pain of

torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper

’

d

weapons to the ground And hear the sentence of your moved

prince.-- Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old

Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb

’

d the quiet of our

streets; And made Verona

’

s ancient citizens Cast by their grave

beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old,

Canker

’

d with peace, to part your canker

’

d hate: If ever you

disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the

peace. For this time, all the rest depart away:-- You, Capulet,

shall go along with me;-- And, Montague, come you this

afternoon, To know our farther pleasure in this case, To old

Free-town, our common judgment-place.-- Once more, on pain

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of death, all men depart.

(Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt,

Citizens, and Servants.)

Montague. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?-- Speak,

nephew, were you by when it began?

Benvolio. Here were the servants of your adversary And yours,

close fighting ere I did approach: I drew to part them: in the

instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar

’

d; Which,

as he breath

’

d defiance to my ears, He swung about his head,

and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss

’

d him in scorn:

While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and

more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who

parted either part.

Lady Montague. O, where is Romeo?--saw you him to- day?--

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

Benvolio. Madam, an hour before the worshipp

’

d sun Peer

’

d

forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me

to walk abroad; Where,--underneath the grove of sycamore That

westward rooteth from the city

’

s side,-- So early walking did I

see your son: Towards him I made; but he was ware of me, And

stole into the covert of the wood: I, measuring his affections by

my own,-- That most are busied when they

’

re most alone,--

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Pursu

’

d my humour, not pursuing his, And gladly shunn

’

d who

gladly fled from me.

Montague. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears

augmenting the fresh morning

’

s dew, Adding to clouds more

clouds with his deep sighs: But all so soon as the all-cheering

sun Should in the farthest east begin to draw The shady curtains

from Aurora

’

s bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son,

And private in his chamber pens himself; Shuts up his windows,

locks fair daylight out And makes himself an artificial night:

Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good

counsel may the cause remove.

Benvolio. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

Montague. I neither know it nor can learn of him.

Benvolio. Have you importun

’

d him by any means?

Montague. 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. See, where he comes: so please you step aside; I

’

ll

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know his grievance or be much denied.

Montague. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true

shrift.--Come, madam, let

’

s away,

(Exeunt Montague and Lady.)

(Enter Romeo.)

Benvolio. Good morrow, cousin.

Romeo. Is the day so young?

Benvolio. But new struck nine.

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? Yet tell me not, for I have

heard it all. Here

’

s much to do with hate, but more with love:--

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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, coz, I rather weep.

Romeo. Good heart, at what?

Benvolio. At thy good heart

’

s oppression.

Romeo. 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.

(Going.)

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

me wrong.

Romeo. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here: This is not

Romeo, he

’

s some other where.

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Benvolio. Tell me in sadness who is that you love?

Romeo. What, shall I groan and tell thee?

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

Romeo. 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 aim

’

d so near when I suppos

’

d you lov

’

d.

Romeo. A right good markman!--And she

’

s fair I love.

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

Romeo. 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. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

Romeo. 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.

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