SCENE: Capulet’s orchard. Juliet appears above at a window.
ROMEO: But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
’Tis not the yondest window I have seen;
In truth, I fear, ’tis not quite yond enough.
The distance, by my reckoning, is fine,
Being thrice the span of my outstretchèd arm;
The real problem here is one of height,
With me down here and her up there and all—
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
I actually prefer that she keep shtum,
Because, though I am loth to criticize
This maid that o’ershines the envious moon
(Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That Juliet be far more fair than she),
The silly dope came out without a mask.
Were she to sneeze or, worse still, blow her nose,
Whose tiny tilt and rare perfection ne’er
Shall beg the rhinoplast’rer’s careful art,
I might lie just inside her mucal range.
By Cupid was this sacred law begot:
Thy love is deepest when thou lov’st not snot.
(Steps back)
That’s better. Ah, my sweet! Her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek! (Pause) Not literally.
JULIET: O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
ROMEO: Long story. My old man was keen on Duane,
But Mom liked Rocco, ’cause it sounded tough:
Rocky Montague, right? In the end,
They compromised, so Romeo it was.
JULIET: What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
ROMEO: ’Tis true, and yet is smelling anything
A good idea, when e’en the gods themselves,
Obeying guidelines, choose to chicken out
When bending low to take a mortal sniff?
JULIET: How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb.
ROMEO: With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out.
Also, there are arrows, freshly daubed,
That show the aëreal climber where to go,
Along a one-way route, in case you meet
Another suitor keen to abseil down.
JULIET: By whose direction found’st thou out this place?
ROMEO: By love, that first did prompt me to inquire;
And then—the traffic being as sparse as hairs
Upon a boyish chin—by Uber. Lovely guy,
Who swore that every inch was sanitiz’d.
I gell’d my palms before I buckl’d up.
JULIET: Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.
Fain would I dwell on form. Fain, fain deny
What I have spoke—
ROMEO: All right, I get the fains.
But when you say the mask of night, is that
An actual mask, or that weird clayey thing
With which the Duke of L’Oréal doth add
A glow of nourishment to visages
Already infant-soft? I’faith, my love,
To show thyself upon a balcony
Sans mask is sure to contravene the law.
JULIET: And dost thou love me, though I be unmasked?
ROMEO: Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear—
JULIET: O, swear not by the moon, th’ inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb.
ROMEO: What shall I swear by?
JULIET: Do not swear at all.
ROMEO (aside): So make your fucking mind up. (Aloud) Dearest heart!
JULIET: I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvis’d, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say “It lightens.”
ROMEO: If you mean,
Have I been quarantined, the answer’s yes.
And let me tell you, isolating with
The Montagues for any length of time
Doth stretch me as upon the torturer’s rack.
No vaccine, though it were distill’d within
The chambers of our learned friar, could cure
A fortnight with my Uncle Lou—
JULIET: Good night!
ROMEO: O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
JULIET: What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?
A kiss? Give me a break. No kissing here,
Thou dummy, till the breath of next year’s spring
Shall green once more the wither’d bough, if then.
The closest to a kiss that we may come
Would be to don full visors, and to clash
Adoringly, akin to knights who meet
And strike their am’rous armor in the joust.
Forgive me, what exactly dost thou crave?
ROMEO: The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.
JULIET: O.K., done. How ’bout an elbow bump?
ROMEO: Not easy from down here. What else you got?
JULIET: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
(Nurse calls.)
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.
(Exit)
ROMEO: Did she say nurse? Forsooth, what gives up there?
And who is it doth need a physic’s care?
Those damnèd superspreading Capulets:
I wouldn’t put it past them to have coughed
All over every other clan in town.
(Juliet reënters.)
JULIET: Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow.
NURSE (within): Madam!
JULIET: I come! A thousand times good night!
(Exit)
ROMEO: A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. (Pause)
Not that anyone doth go to school
Or glance at books, when learning is remote.
A generation ruined. Kids these days . . .
(Juliet reënters.)
JULIET: Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer’s voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
ROMEO: I’m sorry, what? Who’s hissing? Gentle how?
JULIET: Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud.
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo’s name.
ROMEO: Whate’er thy wooing speech may mean, ’tis hot.
I like the sound of Echo. Call her up.
But, really, bondage? Would you say that’s wise,
When handshakes are a no-no, and a hug
Is no more welcome than the biting asp?
Is leather biologically secure?
JULIET: ’Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than a wanton’s bird,
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again.
ROMEO: Count me in. I would I could so hop.
JULIET: Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
(Exit)
ROMEO: Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
And don’t forget to wash thy hands! Adieu. (Pause)
Well, that went well. I haven’t got a clue
How often I should venture thus. Desire
Doth urge me here, ascending ever higher
Toward the dew-lac’d lips of Juliet,
Wherefrom to sip, with souls entwin’d. And yet
One drop envenom’d might our bodies kill
As we make out across the windowsill.
Why feed the fever of my spirit, when
Infection rates are off the charts again?
Love is a sickness, as the sages say.
Veronavirus gets you either way.
(Exit, following the wrong arrow. Reënter, cursing. Exit.) ♦
