(Friar Lawrence addresses the mourners w...

(Friar Lawrence addresses the mourners who include Romeo, Maria, Catherine and Rosaline, along with the Prince and Juliet.)

Friar Lawrence: Time is the great mystery. It levels castles, and heals wounded hearts. A happy year remembered rushes by like a summer’s day, but a moment of grief drags us into an eternal winter of despair. And so we walk, with leaden-footed steps through this living world, unbelieving that the dead are truly gone.

In this place, we come to think of Romeo, a poet-son of Montague, gentle man, filled with eloquence and grace, and though he loved too much, let no man say that he loved not well. If he had known of this miracle brother, rescued from the clinging naiads of the sea, how would he have clasped that hand, as if to drag him from those waters once again into his family.

Master Dromio, though much moved with tears, has asked to speak upon this woeful day.

Romeo (as Dromio): Dear brother, whatever your sins, the harshest judge was you unto yourself. Three women wooed, and each with child. Heaven should wink at such love overflowed, as a torrent floods its mirroring pool, and cleaves new streams, through harsh mountains and timbered forests, even to the very sea. Oh, that I had known you in life, as I learn now of you in your death. What burdens could we not have shared? What peak too high might we not have climbed as one? I am no poet, with words like yours to sing orisons to the new-born day, and yet your conjured moments ever will be young, as I grow stooped and dull, as creeping time burns raven locks to silver ash, and youthful strength to feeble stumbling.

(Maria, Catherine and Rosaline burst into to tears.)

Friar Lawrence: Let each speak, who once did love him.

Maria (stepping forward): I was his first. Romeo, a lusty lad, came to my inn for comfort from the storm. I fed him well, and loved him better, and now I am with child. I am not ashamed. His brief sojourn on this ravenous Earth encompassed love. Not all can say as much. He had a well sprung arm, and a goodly thigh, and such a head as would melt the heart of chastity herself. Only his wandering eye was his undoing, and I forgive, as I must never forget the father of my child.

Catherine (stepping forward): I was Romeo’s first true love. We met and wooed in my father’s garden, and I hoped to be betrothed to such a worthy gentleman, surrendering my heart and my good name too soon, before his formal vows were exchanged for mine. His hands were soft as silken flowers, and his tongue could charm a crow to sing like Philomel.

At first he loved me well, but then so many other ladies caught his eye, that I grew jealous, and like a royal fool, I cast him out, not knowing I was begotten with his child. I tried to mend the war between us, and win his heart anew. By then he was ensnared by another lady’s charms, and spurned me. I do not ask for justice on the dead, but judge me not so harshly, who still lives. I love him even now, though his sweet and conquered body lies sealed in that stony prison.

Rosaline (stepping forward): Romeo loved me well, in his own way, with emissaries of poesy wrapped in guile. I think that only I was his true match, sparing word for word, and loving blowing for loving blow. He was a wild one, not knowing his own faults, and drawn like a pounding moth to beauty’s flame. I brought him bliss, but would have crushed his heart, if he had lived. Judge me not unkind. He begged and pleaded, like one doomed to die, before I succumbed to his fevered embrace. It ended with a sad farewell, as if he broke the glass in which he looked, and saw not the reflection of his own passion. That he is my coming child’s father, I do not deny, and will speak vaguely to her of our love, and count it best that she respects him.

Friar Lawrence: Are there others who would speak before we place the seal upon the door?

Lady Montague: I will speak. He was my son. A handsome and a foolish boy, with gifts beyond compare of looks and eloquence, wasted on a sinful life. Any of these three women might have made a doting wife, except perhaps the last.

(Rosaline bows sarcastically).

Lady Montague: He threw away the sacred blessing of life, from petulance. And yet, to see his empty vessel, with all blood drained away, has cracked my heart, never to be repaired.

Dromio (who had arrived quietly as the other’s spoke): Speak you now of Romeo, a Montague?

Romeo: And who are you sir?

Dromio: One who loved him better than he knew.

Romeo: How so, you are a stranger here?

Dromio: I am Dromio of Naples. My father , the King , hearing of this tragic death, confessed a tale that brought wonder to my ears. Though I was long raised as a prince, his child, he brought forth a golden chain, once found around my neck, when new dragged from the sea as just a babe. His wife, the queen, was barren, and learning that my family was drowned, they took pity on my screeching face, and raised me as their own. But hearing of my brother’s death, and how, when shipwrecked off the Naples coast, Romeo had lost a brother, the king felt for my northern kin, and sent me forth to comfort their new loss with long-unhoped discovery. And who sir, are you?

Romeo: I am Romeo, and a Montague, new conjured from that grave by your arrival.

Dromio: Then the news is false, and my brother lives?

Romeo: You brother is caught in a sharp stratagem, and I will answer for it.

Lady Capulet: Can it be true? For this wicked world has played the fool with me. Do you have proof sir, of this happy tale?

Dromio: Here is that very chain, with Dromio Montague graven into this curvaceous emblem. It is too dainty to wear around my swollen neck, so in this satchel I hold it fast, the one link to my history.

Lady Capulet (embraces and kisses him): You are my son, and in your eyes and golden hair I see the sunny child who brought delight to a mother’s heart.

Maria (approaching Dromio): I have oft said, that I love Romeo’s brother more than I love the father of my child. (She kisses him on the mouth before he can react, then steps away.)

Catherine: And so have I. (She also kisses Dromio, who staggers amazed.)

Rosaline: And so have I. (She also kisses Dromio.)

Lady Montague (Turning to Romeo): It is a foolish mother who does not know her own child! (She slaps him.)

(Maria turns to Romeo and slaps him, as does Catherine, as does Rosaline.)

Dromio: These women of Verona greet very warmly.

Romeo: Yes brother, my cheek is still glowing from it.

The Prince (standing on a wall to draw attention): Dromio Montague, you are welcome to Verona, but you must prepare yourself for your brother’s reckoning. Each of these three women have loved and lost him, each now with child, and each deserving to be cherished, as a mother should.

Romeo, you have deceived these ladies, all Verona and me. Many shed tears for your seeming loss, and were I in a darker humor, I would cast you in chains for this dissembling. But these children need a father, and I am moved to be benevolent. I understand Lord Montague has cast you off, for your impudence. Perhaps this seeming death has touched his tender feelings. I will intercede with him, and have your fortunes quite restored, if you will name the lady you will take to wife, and treat the others well. Which will it be, Maria, Catherine or the lady Rosaline?

Romeo: My heart is lost to a lady, final and irrevocable. Though coming too late, it will be my ruin.

The Prince: Come now, you need only speak the lady’s name, and it is done. Did not Paris choose from Hera, Athena and Aphrodite? Can you do no less? Blissful love with Helen was his reward.

Romeo: Then I choose Juliet.

The Prince (to Juliet): What say you to his suit?

Juliet: This fair-faced youth has sung-false, more than once, his love for me. He hopes to skip away from duty’s bonds, and taint the kindness of my loving prince.

The Prince: Impudent boy, she is betrothed to me. Will you cast these ladies off?

Romeo: My heart is set, even unto my own doom.

The Prince: When all good fortune and your Prince’s love rest on another choice?

Romeo: Great Prince, if love was ours to command, I would make it so, but galloping horses in our hearts decide our fate, dragging all before, with bruised elbows and wind-swept hair. If Juliet is lost to me, then I will live alone, bemoaning my outcast state, content to sing her praises in songs of poetry.

The Prince: You are a selfish and a foolish man. If you will not take my help, then hear this. In poverty you will stay, and far from Verona’s heart. If after sunset you are found within the city walls, that hour will mean your death. Romeo is banished.

(The Prince and Juliet exit.)

Rosaline: I am done with men. They take up much space, and furnish meager comfort. They grab, and belch, and mope, and know little of bringing joy to ones they claim to love. When the Heavenly Creator shaped the world, did he not start with fish and frogs, apes and Adam, fashioning each rudely from clay, learning from one to perfect the next? Fish glide like gods, but gape, with gormless vacancy. Frogs are cursed with bumps and blemishes frightening to look upon and deadly to touch, while Adam He marred with scratching beard and graceless limbs lashed to a torso made hideous by ill-favored protuberances. But at the end of all His cosmic laboring was Eve, sinuous and seductive, with such lovely lines as charm the eye whether slender or plump, young or in her prime, blessed with the power to nurture life, and guilded with an angel's voice. And yet, ancient men wrote it was Eve who sinned, caressed and goaded by a loathsome snake wrapped around her naked flesh. If the mother of us all had truly bitten the apple, would she not have seen the world for what it is, and cast Adam out of Paradise, keeping it alone, for herself and all her sisters?

What peace is there for women in this man-stuffed world? We must make our own Paradise, cut off from fear and lust-filled men. I will found an order, of pure-hearted women, and guide the world from a sainted tower of purity. Farewell mankind, I tarried long as one who should have fled.

(She exits.)

Dromio: Come brother, there is hope and new life in this. My father would welcome a second son, a second prince of Naples, where new loves might wipe away the old.

Romeo: Dear brother, for though you are my newfound blood, and kith and kin, I cannot leave my love so far away. Juliet is my life, and even if I can do no more than catch a glimmer of light, as she opens the casement of her bedroom window, I must remain.

Dromio: If you stay, you die.

Romeo: Father Lawrence has a cell beyond the city walls, a hermit’s holy place, ripe for contemplation. Time and my devotion might soften even my angered Prince, and let a desperate love feed on a crumb of hope.

Dromio: Then I shall return to Naples, where my father grows old, and craves my comfort.

Catherine (approaching Dromio): Take me with you.

Dromio: Madam?

Catherine: For Romeo is dead to me, or it is as if he were. You are not so handsome nor as quick of tongue as your strange brother, but I could like you well enough.

Dromio (to Romeo): These women of Verona have a strange way of wooing.

Catherine: But saying you are no Romeo, is like saying the sun outshines the moon. One is too hot and burns my eyes, the other, with cooling smoothness might become a beacon for my aching heart, and win my everlasting love.

Dromio: As I rode from Naples, I promised God that were my brother to have left a family, I would take it in, and care for all with due devotion. I find a bounty of such need. But if you would talk of love, that is too grave a thing for hurried reckoning. We should walk apart, and slowly as we may, parlay as friends, before Cupid dazzles with his flaming tips, and leaves us shorn of judgment. I would be happy in my marriage bed, and think the racing of human hearts a worse augurer of future bliss than earnest thought, and long acquaintance.

Catherine: If you prove one tenth as wise as you are handsome, I will become your shadow and follow you throughout the world.

Dromio: Goodbye brother. I love you well enough, though I judge you lost to madness.

Romeo: Farewell. Commend me to your King.

(Catherine and Dromio leave hand in hand, and Friar Lawrence takes Romeo away.)

End of Act 1. 

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