罗密欧朱丽叶是莎士比亚最经典的爱情故事之一。这个故事已经被拍成了无数电影和电视剧，但是最初它是一部话剧。下面是罗密欧朱丽叶话剧剧本的英文版。

Act I

Scene 1: Verona. A public place.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with swords and bucklers.

Sampson: Gregory, on my word, we'll not carry coals.

Gregory: No, for then we should be colliers.

Sampson: I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

Gregory: Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.

Sampson: I strike quickly, being moved.

Gregory: But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

Sampson: A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

Gregory: To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

Sampson: A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

Gregory: That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

Sampson: 'Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

Scene 2: Verona. A street.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.

Capulet: 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.

Paris: Of honourable reckoning are you both;

And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.

But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

Capulet: 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.

Scene 3: Verona. A room in Capulet's house.

Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

Lady Capulet: Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse: Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,

I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!

God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

Enter Juliet.

Juliet: How now! who calls?

Nurse: Your mother.

Juliet: Madam, I am here,

What is your will?

Lady Capulet: This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,

We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;

I have remember'd me, thou'lt hear our counsel.

Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse: Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

Lady Capulet: She's not fourteen.

Nurse: I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--

And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,--

She is not fourteen. How long is it now

To Lammas-tide?

Lady Capulet: A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse: Even or odd, of all days in the year,

Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.

Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--

Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;

She was too good for me: but, as I said,

On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;

That shall she, marry; I remember it well.

'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;

And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--

Of all the days of the year, upon that day:

For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,

Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;

My lord and you were then at Mantua:--

Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,

When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple

Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,

To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!

Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,

To bid me trudge:

And since that time it is eleven years;

For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,

She could have run and waddled all about;

For even the day before, she broke her brow:

And then my husband--God be with his soul!

'A was a merry man--took up the child:

'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?

Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;

Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,

The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'

To see, now, how a jest shall come about!

I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;

And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'

Juliet: Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse: Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,

To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'

And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow

A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;

A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:

'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face?

Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;

Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'

Juliet: And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse: Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!

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

An I might live to see thee married once,

I have my wish.

Lady Capulet: Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

Juliet: I'll look to like, if looking liking move:

But no more deep will I endart mine eye

Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Scene 4: Verona. A street.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others.

Romeo: What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?

Or shall we on without a apology?

Benvolio: The date is out of such prolixity:

We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,

Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,

Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;

Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke

After the prompter, for our entrance:

But, let them measure us by what they will;

We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Mercutio: Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Romeo: Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Mercutio: Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes

With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead

So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Benvolio: You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,

And soar with them above a common bound.

Romeo: I am too sore enpierced with his shaft

To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,

I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:

Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mercutio: And, to sink in it, should you burden love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Romeo: Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,

Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

Give me a case to put my visage in:

A visor for a visor! what care I

What curious eye doth quote deformities?

Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Benvolio: Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,

But every man betake him to his legs.

[They all enter the Capulet's house.]

End of Act I.