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Modern Romeo and Juliet Translation

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Why is Act 1, Scene 5 (party) scene missing? If you could add it, that would be great!

I am not the site owner. BUT I am using their version of “No Sweat Shakespeare” to teach Romeo and Juliet. The missing scenes are available in the paid epub copy that they sell. I had to buy their file to check but it is there if you need it! They delivered the book in epub AND word format so I can ALSO make any changes I need for clarity. E.g., I am changing some wording/ language for clarity so my emergent bilingual students aren’t confused

Good morning Is there a paper version too please?

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Even in the afternoon of her best days.       — King Richard III , Act III Scene 7

The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

(complete text)

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A brief prologue in the form of a sonnet tells us that we’re about to spend two hours watching a “star-crossed” love story that ends in death, but also reconciliation between the two conflicting houses to which the lovers belonged. Two men from the house of Capulet — Gregory and Samson — pick a fight with a few Montague men. Benvolio, a Montague man, tries to break it up, but his efforts aren’t exactly successful when Tybalt, a feisty Capulet, arrives to fuel the fire. The fight finally breaks up upon the arrival of the prince of Verona, Prince Escalus. Once the fight has broken up, Montague and Lady Montague ask about their son Romeo. Benvolio tells them that he has seen Romeo moping around in a bit of a stupor. After they leave, Romeo arrives to tell Benvolio why he’s really in a funk: he’s in love with a woman who does not love him back.

Mark my words, Gregory, we won’t carry coals. We won’t tolerate their insults.

Of course not, if we spent our time carrying coal, we’d be dirty coal carriers, wouldn’t we!

What I mean is, if we are angry, we’ll draw our swords.

Well, if you want to stay alive, rather than draw your sword, you’d better draw your neck out of the noose.

I strike quickly, if I’m provoked.

But it takes a while to provoke you.

If it’s the Montagues, even the family dog could move me to action.

Well everyone who runs from a fight also “moves to action” and being brave means standing firm. So if you say you’re moved, I guess you’re running away.

I mean that dog moves me to stand and fight. If I encounter any Montague on the sidewalk, man or woman, I’ll take the good side of the sidewalk — next to the building — and force them into the street.

You know the old saying, “The weak keeps his back to the wall.” So if you always keep to the wall, you must be a weakling.

Well, women are the “weaker vessels,” so it’ll be the Montague women with their backs to the wall. So I’ll push away Montague men from the wall and thrust the young girls into it.

The quarrel is between us men, not the women.

It’s all the same. I’ll show them how tough I am. After I’ve fought with the men, I’ll be nice to the young women. I’ll cut off their heads.

You’ll cut off the heads of the maidens?

Yeah, the heads of the maidens. I’ll take away their “maidenheads.” Take that in whatever sense you want.

The women will be the ones to “take it” in a sense that can be felt.

Oh they’ll feel me as long as I’m standing upright, and everyone knows I’m a handsome specimen.

You’re lucky you’re flesh, because if you were fish, you’d be a Poor John — one of those cheap dried-up ones they sell at the market. While we’re on the subject, draw that tool of yours. Here come two Montagues.

I’ve got my sword here, unsheathed. Pick a fight with them; I’ll back you up.        

Back me up how? Turn your back on me and run?

Have no fear of that.

Oh no, I do have fear, such fear!

Let’s keep the law on our sides. Let them start the fight.

I’ll make a face at them when I walk by, and they can take it as they like.

No, as they dare. I’ll give them the finger. They’ll be humiliated if they put up with that.

Are you giving us the finger, mister?

I am giving a finger, sir.

Are you giving the finger to us, sir?

[Aside to Gregory] Is the law on our side if I say “yes?”

No, sir. I am not giving you the finger, sir. But I am giving the finger, sir.

Are you picking a fight, sir?

Fight sir! No, sir.

If you are, sir, I’m ready for you. The nobleman I serve is just as good as the nobleman you serve.

“As good”? Not better?

Uh... well, sir.

[Aside to Sampson] Say 'better than your nobleman.'

[Aloud] Here comes one of my master’s family.

Yes, better than your nobleman, sir.

Draw your swords if you’re real men. Gregory, remember that slashing move you learned.

Break it up, you idiots! Put away your swords. You don’t know what you’re doing.

Benvolio, are you actually fighting with these cowardly servants? Turn around and look at me, your worst nightmare.

I’m just trying to keep the peace. Put away your sword, or else use it to help me separate these men.

What, you’ve drawn your sword, and you’re talking about peace! I hate that word like I hate hell, all Montagues, and you. Fight me, coward!

Get your weapons to help stop this fight! Strike them, beat them down!  Damn these Capulets!  Damn these Montagues!

Lord Capulet

What’s all this racket? Hey, give me my battle sword!

Lady Capulet

Go get your crutches. What do you need a sword for? Are you seriously trying to fight?

My sword, I say! Old Montague is here, and he’s waving his sword around in defiance of me.     

You villain Capulet. [To his wife] Quit holding me. Let me go.

Lady Montague

You’re not moving a single inch to get into a fight.

My rebellious subjects, who are disturbing the peace and dishonoring your swords by using them against your neighbors — aren’t you listening to me?  You men, you beasts, trying to drown your rage in each other’s blood! I order you on pain of torture to drop these weapons from your bloody hands, and listen to the law. This makes three times now that your mere words, Lord Capulet and Lord Montague, have grown into public brawls and disturbed our quiet streets. You are causing our respected elders to change out of their dignified clothes and into battle attire and take up their old rusted weapons to break up your poisonous fights.

If you ever disturb our streets again, you shall pay for that breach of peace with your lives. That’s it for now. All the rest of you depart. Capulet, you come with me, and Montague, you come this afternoon.  We’ll go to the old Freetown castle, where I deliver judgments, to discuss this matter further. Again, all you Capulets and Montagues leave, or I’ll have you put to death.  

Who reopened this old quarrel? Nephew, were you nearby when it began?

Our servants were already fighting with theirs before I arrived at the scene. I drew my sword to separate them. Right then, that hothead Tybalt came up with his sword drawn, swinging it around and making threats. While we were thrusting at each other, more and more people came and joined in the fight until the Prince showed up and separated everyone.

Oh, where is Romeo? Have you seen him today? I’m really glad he wasn’t involved in this scuffle.

Madam, just before sunrise I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk in the grove of sycamore trees west of the city, and I saw your son walking there. I headed toward him, but when he saw me, he ducked into the woods. I figured that his mood was the same as mine, that he wanted to be totally alone. After all, I felt just being with myself was one too much company.  So I followed my inclination, which was not to follow him.

He’s been seen there many mornings, crying tears that add the morning dew and sighing breath that adds to the clouds. But as soon as the cheerful sun shows the first light in the east and pulls the curtains back on the day, my gloomy son rushes home and locks himself in his room. He closes the blinds over the windows to shut out the daylight, creating an artificial night. I’ve got a bad feeling about his gloomy mood. It seems like it will go on forever, unless someone can fix the cause by talking to him.

My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

No, I don’t, nor have I learned anything from him.

Have you tried to get him to open up?

Yes, I’ve tried, as well as many of his friends. But he only shares his thoughts with himself — as if he is his own counselor, and not a very good one. Because he keeps his thoughts to himself, I can’t pry to discover what’s bothering him. It’s as if he’s a flower infected with a worm before it can bloom and show itself to the sun.

If only I knew why he was so depressed, I’d happily help him.

Look, here he comes. Please, let me be alone with him. I’ll do everything I can to figure out the problem.

I hope your persistence succeeds in getting him to open up to you. Come, madam, let’s leave them alone.

Good morning, cousin.

Is it still that early?

Just after nine.

Oh dear. Time passes slowly when you’re sad. Was that my father who just hurried off?

Yeah, it was. What’s making you so sad that it makes the hours seem long?

Not having the thing that would make them seem short.

You're in love?

Out of love?

Out of favor with the woman I’m in love with.

It’s unfortunate how love can look so nice but be cruel and rough when you actually experience it.

It’s unfortunate that although “love is blind,” he seems to find a way to do what he wants perfectly well without eyes. Hey, where should we go to eat? [Seeing signs of the fighting] Oh, man! What fight happened here?

Wait, don’t tell me. I’ve heard it all before. These people are full of hate, while I’m full of love. Isn’t life full of contradictions? Brawling love, loving hate, something from nothing, heavy lightness, serious silliness, chaos from organization, feathers of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, sleep that isn’t restful. I have love, but I have none for this feud. Isn’t this laughable?

No, coz, it makes me cry.

Oh, at what?

At how bad you feel.

Why, that’s the nature of love. I feel bad enough under the weight of my own grief without feeling responsible for yours, too. This love you’re showing toward me is just making me feel worse. Love is like smoke made of sighs. When it clears you can see the fire in a lover’s eyes. When it stirs up, then tears of love flow like the sea. What else is love? They say love is madness — a kind of sensible madness. Love is a bitter poison, while at the same time a life-sustaining food. Goodbye, cousin.

Wait! I’ll go with you. You can’t just leave me like that.

Ha, I’ve already gone. This isn’t the real me. I don’t feel like Romeo--he’s somewhere else.

Be sad, tell me who it is that you love.

Be sad! What, should I be sad and groan when I tell you?

Groan? No. I’m asking you to tell me sadly — in all seriousness — who it is.

Look, you can ask a sick man to make out his will, in sadness — in all seriousness — because it’s important. But that’s a poor choice of words to use with me because my problem is sadness. Cousin, I’m telling you in sadness, in both its senses, that I love a woman.

So I was right on target when I guessed you were in love.

You’re a good marksman, and the woman I love is fair and beautiful.

As the saying goes, “A fair mark — or a visible target — is easiest hit.”

You may have hit the mark on what’s bothering me, but I’m not “hitting the mark” with her. She avoids Cupid’s arrows. Like the goddess Diana, she’s vowed to remain a virgin and is well-armed to defend her chastity. She’s unharmed by Cupid’s weak childish bow and arrows. She does not give in when I besiege her with romantic expressions, nor does she respond to my affectionate gazes. She won’t have sex, not even for enough money to seduce a saint. On the one hand, right now she's rich in beauty, but she’ll be poor in the future when those good genes die with her because she hasn’t produced any offspring.

So she has sworn a vow of chastity before God?

She has. But in saving her virginity she’s wasting her beauty by not passing it along to future generations. She is too beautiful and intelligent to earn her spiritual salvation by pledging herself to such an austere life and making me despair. She has sworn to never make love, and that has made my life not worth living.

Follow my advice and stop thinking of her.

Teach me how to forget her.

By letting yourself check out other beautiful women.

That will just cause to me compare her exquisite beauty to theirs. It’s like seeing a mask on a pretty girl’s face (lucky mask, that it gets to touch that face!). I just think about the beautiful skin hidden underneath. A blind man won’t forget the beautiful sights he once saw. Show me an extremely beautiful woman, and she will just remind me of my beloved who is even more beautiful. Farewell, you cannot teach me to forget her.

I’ll teach you to forget, my dear friend — that’s a promise.

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Romeo and Juliet - Act 1, scene 5

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Act 1, scene 5.

Capulet welcomes the disguised Romeo and his friends. Romeo, watching the dance, is caught by the beauty of Juliet. Overhearing Romeo ask about her, Tybalt recognizes his voice and is enraged at the intrusion.

Romeo then meets Juliet, and they fall in love. Not until they are separated do they discover that they belong to enemy houses.

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Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet Shakescleare Translation

Romeo and Juliet Translation Act 1, Scene 2

CAPULET, PARIS, and a servant, PETER, enter

CAPULET, PARIS, and PETER—a servant—enter.

But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike. And ’tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Montague has sworn the same oath I have, and is bound by the same penalty. I don’t think it should be hard for men as old as us to remain peaceful.

Of honorable reckoning are you both. And pity ’tis you lived at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

You both have honorable reputations. It’s a pity you’ve been enemies for so long. But, now, my lord: how do you respond to my request?

But saying o’er what I have said before. My child is yet a stranger in the world. She hath not seen the change of fourteen years. Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

By repeating what I’ve said before. My child is still extremely young. She’s not even fourteen years old. Let’s allow two more summers to pass before we consider her ready for marriage.

Everything you need for every book you read.

Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Girls who are younger than your daughter have become happy mothers.

And too soon marred are those so early made. Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she. She’s the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart. My will to her consent is but a part. An she agreed within her scope of choice, Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustomed feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest Such as I love. And you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well-appareled April on the heel Of limping winter treads. Even such delight Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be— Which on more view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none, Come, go with me. [To PETER, giving him a paper] Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona. Find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

Girls who marry that young grow up too quickly. All of my other children are dead and buried in the earth, so all hopes on this earth rest in her. But you may woo her, kind Paris. Win her love. My permission for you to marry her is only part of the bargain; she must also agree to marry you. Then my blessing on the marriage will confirm her choice. This very night I’m throwing a party that I’ve hosted for many years. I’ve invited many guests, many close friends. I’d like to invite you as a most welcome guest. At my humble home tonight, you’ll see see young women like stars that walk the earth and light the sky from below. Like all lusty young men, you’ll be delighted by the young women who are as fresh as spring flowers. Look at them all, and choose whichever woman you like best. Amidst all these girls, you may no longer think that my daughter’s the most beautiful. Come with me. 

[To PETER, handing him a paper] Go, sir , walk all around Verona. Find the people whose names are on this list and tell them they’re invited to my house tonight.

CAPULET and PARIS exit.

Find them out whose names are written here? It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned in good time!

Find the people whose names are on this list? It’s written that shoemakers and tailors should use each others’ tools, and that fisherman should play with paints while painters should play with with fishing nets. But now I’ve been sent to find the people on this list, and I can’t read. I’ll have to ask somebody educated to help me.

BENVOLIO and ROMEO enter

BENVOLIO and ROMEO enter.

Tut man, one fire burns out another’s burning. One pain is lessened by another’s anguish. Turn giddy, and be helped by backward turning. One desperate grief cures with another’s languish. Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.

Come on, Romeo. Starting a new fire will put out the old one. An old pain is lessened by the arrival of a new one. If you make yourself dizzy, you can cure yourself by spinning in the other direction. A new grief will cure an old one. Stare obsessively at some new girl, and your former lovesickness will disappear.

Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.

The plantain leaf is excellent for that.

For what, I pray thee?

For your broken shin.

For treating your injured shin.

Why Romeo, art thou mad?

Why, Romeo, have you gone crazy?

Not mad, but bound more than a madman is, Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipped and tormented and—Good e’en, good fellow.

No, though I’m bound more tightly than any mental patient is. I’m locked in a prison without food. I’m whipped, tortured. 

[To PETER] Good evening, good fellow.

God ‘i’ good e’en. I pray, sir, can you read?

A blessed good evening to you. Excuse me, sir, do you know how to read?

Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

Yes. I can read my fortune in my misery.

Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything you see?

Perhaps you’ve memorized it . But, I beg your answer, can you read anything you see?

Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

Yes, if I know the letters and the language.

Ye say honestly. Rest you merry.

You speak honestly. Have a nice day.

Stay, fellow. I can read. [He reads the letter] “Seigneur Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Seigneur Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; Seigneur Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena.” A fair assembly. Whither should they come?

Stay, man. I can read. [He reads the letter] “Signor Martino and his wife and daughters; Count Anselme and his gorgeous sisters; Vitravio’s widow; Signor Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; my uncle Capulet and his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline and Livia; Signor Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena.” That’s quite a lovely group of people. Where are they supposed to go?

To supper; to our house.

To supper. To our house.

Whose house?

My master’s.

My master’s house.

Indeed, I should have asked thee that before.

Indeed, I should have asked you that earlier.

Now I’ll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry!

I’ll tell you so that you don’t have to ask. My master is the great, rich Capulet. And as long as you are not a Montague, I invite you to come and drink a cup of wine at our house. Have a nice day!

PETER exits.

At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves With all the admired beauties of Verona. Go thither, and with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Rosaline whom you love so much is going to attend Capulet's traditional feast, along with all the beautiful woman of Verona. Go there and, without bias, compare her to some of the girls I’ll point out to you. I’ll show you that the woman you think is as beautiful as a swan is in fact as ugly as a crow.

When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires, And these, who, often drowned, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.

If my eyes ever show me such a lie about the woman they worship, then may my tears turn into flames. That way my eyes, which never drowned in all my tears, may be burned for being such clear liars! A woman more beautiful than my love? The sun has never seen anyone as beautiful since the world began.

Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself poised with herself in either eye. But in that crystal scales let there be weighed Your lady’s love against some other maid That I will show you shining at the feast, And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

Oh come on. You decided she was beautiful when no one else was around and there was no one to compare her to except herself. But if instead you compare her to some other beautiful woman who I’ll point out to you at this feast, you’ll see that she’s far from the best.

I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

I'll go along with you—not to look at other women, but to rejoice in my love's beauty.