Toxic Custard Workshop Files the Toxic Custard Shakespeare

Romeo And Juliet

Act II: Scene II: Capulet's Orchard

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

WHAT?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon

IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!

Who is already sick and pale with grief

WILL YOU PISS OFF - WE'RE TRYING TO SLEEP

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she

I'M WARNING YOU, IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP...

Be not her maid, since she is envious.

I'M GONNA COME DOWN THERE, AND SMASH YOUR BLOODY FACE IN

Her vestal livery is but sick and green

WILL YOU PUT A BLOODY SOCK IN IT?

And none but fools do wear it: cast it off

I'M GOING TO CAST YOU RIGHT OFF THIS BALCONY IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL

It is my lady, O it is my love

LOOK, ONE MORE STANZA OUT OF YOU AND I'LL CALL THE POLICE

O that she knew she were

HELLO, POLICE?

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

THERE'S THIS BLOKE OUTSIDE

Her eye discourses: I will answer it.

HE'S BABBLING ABOUT SOMETHING OR OTHER... SOME GIRL HE GOT INTO TROUBLE

I am too bold: 'tis not to me she speaks.

PROBABLY A STUDENT - YES... HIGH AS A KITE NO DOUBT, OR DRUNK LIKE THEY ALL ARE

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

WELL, HE'S GOING ON ABOUT STARS IN THE HEAVENS OR SOMETHING

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

THANK YOU OFFICER.

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

RIGHT! THE POLICE ARE COMING. NOW WILL YOU SHUT UP?

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

SHUT THE F*** UP!

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

OH GOOD. HERE THEY COME.

As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven

RIGHT, WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM

Would through the airy region stream so bright

WOULD YOU MIND KEEPING THE NOISE DOWN, SIR?

That birds would sing and think it were not night

WELL I'M AFRAID IT IS NIGHT SIR, SO COULD YOU BE A BIT QUIETER?

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

OR I SHALL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO ACCOMPANY ME TO THE STATION

O that I were a glove upon that hand,

RIGHT SONNY, THAT'S ABOUT ENOUGH OF THAT

That I might touch that cheek

YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR A BREACH OF THE PEACE

Let go of me arm, pig!


Toxic Custard Workshop Files Shakespeare