Original subtitles

Two households, both alike in dignity In the new world

where we lay are seen 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-crossed lovers

Thank you.

you

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed.

And I might live to see thee loved, I'd have my whiff.

My child is yet a stranger in the world.

Give me a love.

And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will

make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night.

in bed asleep they do dream things true

earth

hath swallowed all my hopes but she

So tedious was this day.

As is the night before a birthday feast.

To an impatient child that has new toys.

She's the hopeful lady of my earth.

i pray thee good benvolio let's retire we shall not escape a brawl for now

these hot days is the mad blood stirring come come thou art

as hot a jack in thy mood as any in italy

The love I bear thee can afford no better term than this. Thou art a dill.

Tybalt, to such a greeting.

Villain am I none.

With the two of you we should have none, shortly, for one would kill the other.

I will withdraw.

But this intrusion shall, now seeming sweet, convert to bitterest gall.

scaring the ladies like a crow keeper.

You have dancing shoes with nimble soles.

I have a sole of lead, so stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Give me a cover for my face an ugly mask for an ugly mug

What

do I care if an inquisitive eye

notices my deformities

Men's

eyes were made to look

and let them gaze.

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 old cheering sun should in

the farthest east begin to rise away from light steals home

our romeo

And locks fair daylight out.

Good morrow, cousin.

Is the day so young?

Ay, me, sad hours seem long.

What sadness lengthens Romeo's hour?

Not having that which having makes them sure.

I dreamt a dream tonight.

And so did I.

Well, what was yours?

That dreamers often lie.

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.

If I can trust my pleasant dreams as truthful guides, joyful news is on its

way.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead, and breathed such life with kisses in my

lips that I revive, and was a king.

Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think.

Love goes to love as fleetingly as schoolboys from their books.

Our Romeo.

You are a lover, for who cupid's wings and soar with them above a common

bound?

I have left myself.

I am not here.

This is not Romeo.

He is some other were.

Tell me, in sadness, who is that you love?

In sadness, cousin, I look to love.

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her.

Teach me.

How I should forget to think of love.

Romeo, what, does the slave come hither To flare and

scorn at our solemnity?

Mercutio, thou consults with Romeo?

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace!

Keep your misstempered weapons to the ground, and hear the sentence of your

moved prince.

Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word by thee, O Capulets and Montagues.

You have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets.

If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the

peace.

Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

Violent delights have violent ends,

And

in their triumph die like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss,

consume.

Now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl, and joy comes well in such a needy time.

Thou hast a careful father, child, one who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

hath sorted out a sudden day of joy.

Marry, my child, early next Thursday moon, the gallant young Paris.

At St. Peter's Church, he shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

Think of love now.

Love?

That love is the very theme I come to talk of.

Tell me, daughter Juliet, how stands your dispositions to be married?

It is an honor that I dream not of.

Younger than you, here ladies are made already mothers.

By my count, your mother was much upon these years that you are now a maiden.

I wonder at this haste that I must wed.

Well, well, is our fair Juliet to grace the streets with her presence?

Go, girls, seek happy nights to happy days.

and turn this household's rancour to pure love.

When a book with a romantic story is locked with golden clasps, many people

think its attractiveness is thereby shared.

Scan a face as if it were a book, Attractiveness is the central theme.

Examine every feature.

This love story that's waiting for a dedication lacks one thing only.

A cover.

Come hither, Ros.

Who is yon gentleman?

His name is Romeo.

Forswear its sight, for I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Did my heart love till now?

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

O be some other name.

With love's light wings did I climb these walls, for stony limits cannot

hold love out.

What's in a name?

That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection. and

for thy name which is no part of thee take all

myself

Come, come with me, and we will make it short work, for you shall not leave this

place till Holy Church incorporate two in one.

Know my heart's dear love is set on the fair daughter of rich Capulet.

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, and all combined.

save what thou must combine by holy marriage.

when and where and how we met we wooed and made exchange of vow i'll tell thee

as we pass but this i pray that thou consent to marry us to-day

oh

gentle romeo if thou dost love pronounce it faithfully

if that thy bent of love be honourable thy purpose marriage send me to-morrow

where and what time thou wilt perform the rite and all my fortunes at thy foot

i'll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the world

is is

Thank you.

Have you delivered to her our decree?

She thanks you, but will have none of it.

Give us thanks?

I pray you, tell my lord and father, I will not marry yet.

And when I do, I swear it shall be Romeo.

Is she not proud?

By St. Peter's church and Peter too, he shall not make me there a joyful bride.

Or bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, from the battlements of any town.

Take foolish tears back to your native spring.

What? Still in tears?

Ever more showering?

In one little body thy counterfeitest a bark, a sea, a wind.

The bark thy body is, sailing in this salt flood.

Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright.

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night as a rich jewel.

Thank you.

Oh, it is my love.

Oh, that she knew she were.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon.

Wilt thou be gone?

It is not yet near day.

It was the nightingale and not the lark.

Nightly she sings on yon palm granite tree.

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

It was the lark, the herald of the morn, no nightingale.

Look, love, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.

Night's candles are burnt out, and day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain

tops.

Yond light is not daylight, I know it, I.

it is some meteor that the sun exhales to be to thee this night a torch-bearer

and light thee on thy way therefore stay

if we were but in

venice but tis just a dream

The Lazaretto, where the infectious pestilence did reign, sealed up the

doors and would not let us forth.

It was torture, not mercy.

Purgatory.

Hell itself.

Heaven is here, where Juliet now lives, and every cat and dog and little

mouse, every unworthy thing live here in heaven and may look on her.

Ah, but the roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade like death when he shuts

up the day of life.

As if Queen Mab herself has been with you.

She is the fairy's midwife, and she comes in a shape no bigger than an agate

stone, drawn with a team of harnessed fleas over men's noses as they lie

asleep.

Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, her wagon spokes made of long spinner's

legs, the cover of the wings of grasshoppers.

a waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat.

And in this state she gallops night and day through lovers' brains, and then

they dream of love.

Sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness, and in the taste

confounds the appetite.

What wouldst thou have with me, King of Cats?

Nothing but one of your nine lives.

Holy St. Francis!

Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

A plague of both your houses.

A dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat to scratch a man

to death.

They have made worms' meat of me.

Violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and

power.

Our dear Mercutio is dead.

That gallant spirit hath inspired the clouds.

which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

In my behalf, my reputation stained.

My very friend.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Thou needst not be gone.

Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow.

O swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her

circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

What shall I swear by?

Do not swear at all, or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self.

which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee.

By some vile forfeit of untimely death,

He that hath this steerage of my course, direct my sail.

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

Well, you made a simple choice.

You know not how to choose a man.

I saw no man use you at his pleasure. If I had, my claws should quickly have been

out, I warrant you. I dare draw as soon as a man, if I see occasion, in a good

quarrel. And the law on my side.

Men may fall when there's no strength in women.

Oh, such blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up, stand

up, stand, and you'll be a woman for Romeo's sake.

Rise and stand.

Jesus Maria, what a deal of brine hath washed thy sallow cheeks for

Romeo. How much salt water thrown away in waste to season love.

To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

I hate that word, because I hate hell, all Montagues,

and...

what eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel

blind is his love

and best befits the dark he hath hid

himself among these trees to be consorted with the

humorous night

Now I have stained the childhood of our joy.

Was ever a book containing such vile matter so fairly abound?

There's no trust, no faith, no

honesty in men.

These griefs, these woes,

these sorrows make me old.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes.

Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.

What is it else?

A madness most discreet.

Oh, that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace.

Tell my mother I am gone.

I'll to Friar Lawrence to make confession.

If all else fail, myself have power to die.

I have a faint cold.

Fear thrills through my veins that almost freezes up the heat of life.

My love is on earth, my faith in heaven.

How shall that faith return again to earth?

unless that love send it me from heaven by leaving earth.

Hast thou not a word of joy?

Some comfort?

O lamentable day!

Death lies on her like an untimely frost, Upon the

sweetest flower of all the fields.