SCENES FOR ACTORS
Juliet & Hamlet—Act 1, Scene IV
ACT 1, SCENE IV
Best room at the Boar's Head Inn.
A bed: Hamlet and Juliet sleep.
From the Tavern below: ruckus of bawdy drinking.
Hamlet awakens, lights a candle, gazes on the child-face of his sleeping bride.
O Juliet, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eye?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
The kiss—she stirs—a torrent of guilt.
O spite! O hell! Joy at last, for cursed deed;
The Gods for murder seem too content.
Juliet wakes, comforts him.
Sweet Prince, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
For love of me, thou hast done a brave deed.
I am up to the ears in blood.
The soldier protests too much, methinks.
Is it possible that you should love the enemy of Aquitaine?
No, it is not possible I should love the enemy of Aquitaine; but in loving you, I should love the friend of Aquitaine: for you love Aquitaine so well that you will not part with a village of it; you will have it all yours: and when Aquitaine is yours, and you are mine; then mine is Aquitaine, and I am yours.
By God, that all this is not overturned.
O much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
Tut, is your love not strong? Why should you fear?
Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough.
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter taken.
Pray heaven, the old king may find a heart.
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
Come, I know thou lovest me: and I know you love with your soul: but good Juliet, gentle Princess, mock me mercifully, because I love thee cruelly.
In truth, valiant Prince, I am too fond.
But I say, God's benison goes with you,
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes.
I do repent ... but heaven hath pleased it so.
As man and wife being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt our kingdoms such a spousal,
That never may ill office, or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
Thrust in the paction of our house.
Take me, fair prince, that contending kingdoms
May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction
Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms: that never war advance
His bleeding sword again.
My dear? It is almost morning.
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
What satisfaction canst thou have, dear love?