In this version, the Capulets and the Montagues are two rival gangs. Juliet Claire Danes is attending a costume ball thrown by her parents. Her father Fulgencio Capulet Paul Sorvino has arranged her marriage to the boorish Paris Paul Rudd as part of a strategic investment plan. Romeo attends the masked ball and he and Juliet fall in love. Genre: Drama , Romance. Nominated for 1 Oscar. IMDB: 6. PG Year: min Website 12, Views.
Next ». ANCHOR WOMAN: Two households both alike in dignity in fair Verona, Where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean, From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, A pair of star crossed lovers take their life, Whose misadventured piteous overthrows doth with their death, Bury their parents strife.
The fearful passage of their death marked love, And the continuance of their parents rage, Which but their children's end not could remove, Is now the two hours traffic of our stage. And I am a pretty piece of flesh, I am a pretty piece of Flesh! Here comes of the house of Capulet! Ah, ha ha. Ha ha ha. I serve as good a man as you. Draw, if you be men. Put up your swords. Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. Put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
BOY: Bang Bang! Bang Bang! On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground! Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Submitted by acronimous on April 08, Discuss this script with the community: 0 Comments. Notify me of new comments via email. Cancel Report. Create a new account. Log In. Select another language:. Powered by CITE. We need you! Help us build the largest writers community and scripts collection on the web! Add a Script. Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. O, she is lame! Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me: But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
O God, she comes! A public place. Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter?
O simple! Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. Enter Nurse, with cords. Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-- But, soft! Well, Wednesday is too soon, O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl. Will you be ready?
We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two; For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be thought we held him carelessly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much: Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me! Good night. ROMEO It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome!
Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Enter Nurse, to the chamber. Friar Laurence's cell. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears; Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society: Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. Exit First Servant. Nurse They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. Enter Nurse Nurse Mistress! Why, love, I say! What, not a word? God forgive me, Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!
I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam! Ay, let the county take you in your bed; He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? Undraws the curtains. A street. I dreamt my lady came and found me dead-- Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think! Ah me! Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
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