Who Says O Misheif Thou Art Swift to Enter in the Thought of Desperate Men
Romeo and Juliet Translation Act 5, Scene ane
ROMEO
If I may trust the flattering truth of slumber, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustomed spirit Lifts me higher up the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreamt my lady came and found me dead— Foreign dream, that gives a dead man leave to think— And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor. Ah me! How sweetness is love itself possessed When simply love's shadows are so rich in joy!
ROMEO
If I can trust the favorable truth of sleep, then my dreams foretell some joyful news is on the style. Love sits lightly in my heart, and all day an odd feeling has seemed to lift me upwards with cheerful thoughts. I had a dream that my lady came and found me dead—what a strange dream, in which a dead man is able to think. And she breathed life back into me by kissing my lips. I revived and became an emperor. Oh! How sweet information technology would be to exist with my dear, when my dreams of love alone fill up me with and so much joy.
ROMEO's servant BALTHASAR enters.
News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar? Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How fares my Juliet? That I ask once more, For zip tin can be ill if she be well.
News from Verona! How are yous, Balthasar? Take you lot brought me a letter from the friar? How is my wife? Is my father well? How is my Juliet? I ask that again considering naught tin can exist bad if she is well.
BALTHASAR
And so she is well, and nothing can be ill. Her body sleeps in Capels' monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault And before long took post to tell it you lot. O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, Since y'all did leave it for my office, sir.
BALTHASAR
Then she is well, and nothing is bad. Her body sleeps in the Capulet crypt, and her immortal soul lives with the angels. I saw her buried in her family's tomb, and rushed here to tell you the news. Oh, pardon me for bringing this bad news, but yous told me it was my duty to do so, sir.
ROMEO
Is information technology eastward'en so? Then I defy you, stars! M know'st my lodging. Get me ink and newspaper, And hire post horses. I volition hence tonight.
ROMEO
Is information technology true? So I defy you, fate!
[To BALTHASAR] You lot know where I'm staying. Get there and get me some ink and paper, and hire some horses. I will get out hither tonight.
BALTHASAR
I practice beseech you, sir, have patience. Your looks are pale and wild, and practise import Some misadventure.
BALTHASAR
I beg yous, sir, take patience. You lot look pale and wild, equally if you're about to do something reckless.
ROMEO
Tush, thou art deceived. Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
ROMEO
Come now, you're being silly. Go out me and do what I told you lot to practice. Practise you really not accept a letter for me from the friar?
BALTHASAR
No, my adept lord.
BALTHASAR
No, my practiced lord.
ROMEO
No matter. Get thee gone, And hire those horses. I'll exist with thee straight.
ROMEO
No matter. Get going, and hire those horses. I'll be with you soon.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight. Let'southward come across for means. O mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! I do remember an apothecary— And hereabouts he dwells—which late I noted In tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows, Alternative of simples. Meager were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the basic, And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuffed, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A measly business relationship of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and one-time cakes of roses, Were thinly scattered to make upwards a show. Noting this penury, to myself I said, "An if a man did demand a poisonous substance now"— Whose auction is present death in Mantua— "Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him." Oh, this same thought did but forerun my need, And this same needy man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house. Existence holiday, the ragamuffin's shop is close. What, ho! Apothecary!
Well, Juliet, I'll prevarication with you lot tonight. Permit me think how. Evil acts are quick to enter the thoughts of desperate men! I remember a chemist who lives around hither, and who I recently noted wears tattered clothes and has jutting brows. He knows his medicinal herbs. He looks poor, as if misery had worn him to the os. A tortoise shell hung in his shabby shop, along with a stuffed alligator and the skins of odd-shaped fish. A few empty boxes sat on his shelves, as well as light-green clay pots, empty water skins, and some musty seeds. Quondam strands of string and rose petals pressed into cakes were displayed all scattered around. Seeing his poverty, I said to myself, "If a man needed some toxicant"—which is punishable past immediate death to sell in Mantua—"hither is a miserable wretch who'd sell it to him." Oh, this idea came earlier I fifty-fifty knew I needed the poison. Just this is the poor man who will sell it to me. Equally I remember, this is the firm. Since today's a holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. Hey! Pharmacist!
APOTHECARY
Who calls so loud?
APOTHECARY
Who's that calling then loudly?
ROMEO
Come here, man. I see that thou art poor. Hold, at that place is forty ducats. Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear Equally will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may autumn expressionless, And that the trunk may be discharged of breath Every bit violently as hasty powder fired Doth bustle from the fatal cannon's womb.
ROMEO
Come up here, man. I run across that you are poor. Hither's twoscore golden coins. Let me have a bit of toxicant, something that spreads and then fast through the veins that the tired-out person who takes information technology will lose the breath of life as quickly as gunpowder explodes from the inside of a cannon.
APOTHECARY
Such mortal drugs I have, just Mantua's police force Is death to whatever he that utters them.
APOTHECARY
I take such mortiferous poisons. But those who sell toxicant receive the death sentence in Mantua.
ROMEO
Art thou so bare and total of wretchedness, And fright'st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks. Demand and oppression starveth in thine eyes. Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back. The earth is non thy friend nor the world's police. The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then exist not poor, but break it, and take this. [Holds out money]
ROMEO
How can you be so poor and wretched and still be afraid to die? Your cheeks are thin from hunger. Starvation and oppression are visible in your eyes. Your poverty, and the antipathy of others for your state of affairs, is like a monkey on your dorsum. The world is not your friend, and neither are the world's laws. The world doesn't provide a law that will make you lot rich. Then don't be poor. Break the law, and take this money. [He holds out money]
APOTHECARY
My poverty, but not my will, consents.
APOTHECARY
Information technology is my poverty, non my morals, that forces me to agree.
ROMEO
I pay thy poverty and not thy will.
ROMEO
I'm paying your poverty, not your morals, then.
APOTHECARY
[Gives ROMEO poison] Put this in any liquid thing you will And drink it off; and, if you had the force Of twenty men, information technology would dispatch you straight.
APOTHECARY
[He gives ROMEO poison] Put this in whatever kind of liquid you want, and drink it. Even if you had the forcefulness of twenty men, information technology would kill yous quickly.
ROMEO
[Giving money] There is they gold—worse toxicant to men's souls, Doing more than murder in this loathsome earth, Than these poor compounds that thousand mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; m hast sold me none. Farewell, purchase nutrient, and get thyself in mankind.
ROMEO
[Giving money to the APOTHECARY] There is your gilt. Money is a worse poison to men's souls, and commits more than murders in this awful world than these poor medicines you aren't permitted to sell. I'thou selling you poison; you oasis't sold me whatever. Farewell. Buy yourself some food, and put on some weight.
Come, cordial and non poison, go with me To Juliet's grave, for at that place must I use thee.
Come with me, medicine—you're no poisonous substance. Nosotros'll go to Juliet's grave, where I must use you.
Source: https://www.litcharts.com/shakescleare/shakespeare-translations/romeo-and-juliet/act-5-scene-1
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