Here, in Verona, ladies of esteem,
SCENE III.-- A Room in Capulet's House.

Are made already mothers : by my count,
Enter LADY CAPC'ler and Nurse.

I was your mother much upon these years La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief: forth to me.

The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, old,

As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.s I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird! La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a God forbid !-where's this girl ?-what, Juliet!

flower. Enter JULIET.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith, a very flower.

La. Cap. What say you ? can you love the Jul. How now, who calls?

gentleman ? Nurse. Your mother.

This night you shall behold him at our feast: Jul.

Madam, I am here, Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, What is your will ?

And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave Examine every married lineament, awhile,

And see how one another lends content: We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; And what obscured in this tair volume lies, I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Find written in the margin of his eyes. Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age.

This precious book of love, this unbound lover, Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

To beautify him only lacks a cover : La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

The fish lives in the sea ;' and 'tis much pride, Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-

For fair without the fair within to hide: And yet, to my teen3 be it spoken, I have but four,- That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, She is not fourteen: How long is it now

That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; To Lammas-tide?

So shall you share all that he doth possess,
La. Cap.
A fortnight and odd days.

By having him, making yourselt no less.
Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by
Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen.

men. Susan and she,-God rest all Christain souls!-Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God;

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' She was too good for me : But as I said,

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;

But no more deep will I endart mine eye, That shall she, marry; I remember it well.

Than your consent gives strength to make it fy. "Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd, --I never shall forget it,

Enter a Servant. Of all the days in the year, upon that day:

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,

up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. My lord and you were then at Mantua :

I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow Nay, I do bear a brain:But, as I said,

straight. When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!

stays. To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,

days.

(Exeunt.
To bid me trudge.
And since that time it is eleven years:
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six

SCENE IV.-A Street.
She could have run and waddled all about,
For even the day before, she broke her brow:

Maskers, Torchbearers, and others.
And then my husband-God be with his soul!

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our A was a merry man ;-took up the child:

excuse ? Yen, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?

Or shall we on without apology? Thou wilt fall buckward, when thou hast more wit ;

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity : Wilt thou not, Jule? and by my holy dam,6

We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, The pretty wretch left crying, and said--Ay:

Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, To see now, how a jest shall come about!

Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;? I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule?

After the prompter, for our entrance : quoth he:

But, let them measure us by what they will, And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay.

We'll measure them a measure, 3 and be gone. La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy

Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this peace.

ambling; Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but Being but heavy, I will bear the light. laugh,

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:

dance. And yet I warrant, it had upon its brow

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;

With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead, A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.

So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. Yea, quoth my husband. fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fali backward, when thou com'st to age; And soar with them above a common bound.

Mer. You are a lover: borrow Cupid's wings, Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said- Ay.

Rom. I am too sore impierced with his shaft Jul. And stint thou too. I pray thee, nurse. say I. To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to

I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe : his grace!

Under love's heavy burden do I sink. Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; An I might live to see thee married once,

Too great oppression for a tender thing. I have my wish.

Roin. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, La. Cup. Marry, that marry is the very theme

Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn. I came to talk of:--Tell me, daughter Juliet,

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with How stands your disposition to be married ?

love; Jul. It is an honor that I dream not of.

Nurse. An honor! were not I thine only nurse, • Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax. I'd say, thou bad'st suck'd wisdom from thy teat. 9 The comments on ancient books were always printed La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger in the margin.

ri.e. Is not yet caught, whose skin was wanted to bind

him. e To my sorrow.

2 A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten crows. • i. . I have a perfect remembrance or recollection.

3 A dance. . The cross. * Holy dame, i. e. the blessed Virgin. * A torch bearer was a constant appendage to every * It stopped crying.

troop of maskers.

than you,

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.- And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Give me a case to put my visage in;

Even now the frozen bosom of the north,

(Putting on a Mask. And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, A visor for a visor!—what care I,

Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. What curious eye doth quotes deformities?

Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from ourHere are the beetle brows, shall blush for me.

selves; Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, Supper is done, and we shall come too late. But every man beta ke him to his legs.

Rom. I fear, too early : for my mind misgives, Rom. À torch for me: let wantons, light of Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, heart,

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
Tickle the senseless rushesh with their heels; With this night's revels; and expire the term
For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase,- Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,

By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own Direct my sail !--On, lusty gentlemen.
word :

Ben. Strike, drum.

(Exeunt. If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st

SCENE V.-A Hall in Capulet's House.
Up to the ears.-Come, we burn daylight, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.
Mer.
I mean, sir, in delay.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take We waste our lights in vain. like lamps by day

away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! Take our good meaning: for our judgment sits

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one Five times in that, ere once in our tive wits. Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask; | loul thing.

or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a But 'tis no wit to go.

1 Serv. Away with the joint stools, remove the Mer.

Why, may one ask? Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

court-cupboard,' look to the plate: - good thou, Mer.

And so did I.

save me a piece of march-pane;- and, as thou lovest Rom. Well, what was yours?

me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and

Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!
Mer.
That dreamers often lic.

2 Sert. Ay, boy; ready. Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked true. Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes

Cheerly, boys; be brisk while, and the longer liver take all.

[They retire behind. In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman,

Enter CAPULET, &c., with the Guests and Maskers. Drawn with a team of little atomiesz Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have

their toes Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;

Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with you: The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;

Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all The traces, of the smallest spider's web;

Will now deny to dance?she that makes dainty, she, The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams :

l'll swear, haih corns; Am I come near you now? Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of tilm:

You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day, Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,

That I have worn a visor; and could tell Not hall so big as a round little worm

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:

Such as would please ;-'tisgone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,

You are welcome, gentlemen!--Come, musicians, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,

play, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.

A hall!'a ball !3 give room, and foot it, girls. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of

[Music plays, and they dance. love:

More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.straight :

Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. O’er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees : Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;

For you and I are past our dancing days: Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,

How long is't now, since last yourself and I Because their breath with sweet-meats tainted are.

Were in a mask ? Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,

2 Cup.

By’r lady, thirty years. And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:S

i Cup. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so

much : And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,

'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Then dreams he of another benefice:

Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, Some five-and-tweniy years; and then we mask'd. And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir: Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,

His son is thirty. Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon

1 Cap.

Will you tell me that? Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;

His son was but a ward two years ago. And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,

Rom. What lady's that which doth enrich tho And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,

hand That plais the manes of horses in the night;.

Of yonder knight? And bakest the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,

Serv. I know not, sir. Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night That presses them, and learns them first to bear,

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: Making them women of good carriage.

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! This, this is she

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;

As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. Thou talk'st of nothing.

The measuret done, I'll watch her place of stand, Mer. True, I talk of dreams;

And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. Which are the children of an idle brain,

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;

For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. Which is as thin of substance as the air;

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague :

Fetch me my ra pier, boy What! dares the slave * Observe,

Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, • It was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes. To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Atoms.

• A place in court. Hi.e. Fairy-locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in

"A sideboard on which the plate was placed. the night.

• Almond-cake. si.e. Make room. • The dance,

Now, by the stock and honor of my kin,

Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have look. To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! 1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore Give me my sin again. storm you so?

Jul.

You kiss by the book. Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foc:

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with A villain, that is hither come in spite,

you. To scorn at our solemnity this night.

Rom. What is her mother? 1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?

Nurse.

Marry, bachelor, Tyb.

'Tis he, that villain Romeo. Her mother is the lady of the house, 1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous : He bears him like a portly gentle, an;

I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,

I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her, To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:

Shall have the chinks. I would not for the wealth of all this town,

Rom.

Is she a Capulet? Here in my house, do hiin disparagement:

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Therefore, be patient, take no note of him,

Ben. Away; begone; the sport is at the best. It is my will; ihe which if thou respect,

Rom. Ay, so I lear; the more is my unrest. Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns, 1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

We have a triling foolish banquet towards.Tyb. It tits, when such a villain is a guest; Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all; I'll not endure him.

I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:1 Cap. He shall be endured;

More torches here!-Come on, ihen, let's to bed. What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall;-Go to; Ah, sirrah, ( To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late; Am I the master here, or you? go to.

I'll to my rest. [ Exeunt all but IULIET and Nurse. You'll not endure him !-(od shallmend my soul- Jul. Come hiiher, nurse: What is yon gentleYou'll make a mutiny among my guests!

man? You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? 1 Сар.

Go to, go to, Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. You are a saucy boy :-(s't so indeed !-

Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would This trick may chance to scaths you ;-I know what,

not dance ? You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time

Nurse. I know not.
Well said, my hearts :-You are a princox ;6 go : Jul. Go. ask his name :-if he be married,
Be quiet, or-More light, more light! - For My grave is like to be my wedding-bed.
shame! -

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; I'll make you quiet; What!-Cheerly, my hearts. The only son of your great enemy.

Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting, Jul. My only love sprung trom my only hate!
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,

Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit. That I must love a loathed enemy.
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hend Nurse. What's this? what's this?
(TO JULIET. Jul.

A rhyme I learn'd even now This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,- Of one I danced withal. (One calls within, Juliet! My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

Nurse.

Anon, anon To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too

(Exeunt. much,

Enter Chorus.
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims'hands do touch, Now old Desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

And young Affection ga pes to be his heir;
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? That fair, for which love groaned, and would die,
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips, that they must use in With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair.
prayer.

Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again, Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands Alike bewitched by, the charm of looks; do;

But to his foe suppos'd he in ust complain, They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' Being held a toe, he may not have access sake.

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect And she as much in love, her means much less I take.

To meet her new-beloved any where: Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. But passion lends them power, time means to meet,

[Kissing her. | Temp’ring extremities with extreme sweet. (Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-An open place adjoining Capulet's | One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Garden.

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
Enter Romeo.

When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid.

He heareth noi, stirreth not, he moveth not;
Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and tind thy centre out.

The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.(He climbs the Wall, and leaps down within it. By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,

I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

By her tine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo !

And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, Mer.

He is wise ;

That in thy likeness thou appear to us. And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Ben. An if he hear thee, ihou wilt anger him.

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him Call, good Mercutio.

To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle, Mer.

Nay, I'll conjure too- Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Romeo! humors! madman! passion! lover!

Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,

That were some spite: my invocation Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;

• Faith. Cry but-Ah me Scouple but-love and dove;

• Alluding to the old ballad of the king and the beggar, Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

• This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an ez • Do you an injury.

Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; I conjure only but to raise up him.

And the place death, considering who thou art, Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. To be consorted with the humorous' night:

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

these walls; Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. For stony limits cannot hold love out: Now will he sit under a medlar-tree,

And what love can do, that dares love attempt, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, Therefore thy kinsmen are no let' to me. As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.- Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Romeo, good night;—I'll to my truckile-bed;

Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:

Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, Come, shall we go?

And I am proof against their enmity. Ben.

Go, then; for 'tis in vain Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. To seek him here, that means not to be found. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their

[Exeunt.

sight;

And, but thou love me, let them find me here:
SCENE II. Capulet's Garden.

My life were better ended by their hate,
Enter Romeo.

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.-

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this (JULIET appears above, at a Window.

place? But,soft! what light throughyonder window breaks!

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far Who is already sick and pale with grief,

As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

I would adventure tor such merchandise. Be not her maid, since she is envious;

Jul. Thou know'stthe maskotnight is on my face, Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, And none but fools do wear it; cast it oft.

For that which thou hast heard me speak tv-night. It is my lady ; 0, it is my love:

Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain, deny 0, that she knew she were !

What I have spoke: But farewell compliment ! She speaks, yet she says nothing: What of that?

Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say-Ay; Her eye discourses, I will answer it.

And I will take thy word: yet it thou swear'st, I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks :

Thou may'st prove false; ai lovers' perjuries, Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, Having some business, do entreat her eyes

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won, What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, The brightness of hercheekwould shame those stars,

So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; Would through the airy region stream so bright,

And therefore thou mnay'st think my 'havior light: That birds would sing, and think it were not night. But, trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 0, that I were a glove upon that hand,

I should have been more strange, I must confess, That I might touch thai cheek!

But that thou overheardst, ere I was 'ware, Jul.

Ah me!

My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me; Rom.

She speaks :

And not impute this yielding to light love, 0, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

Which the dark nighi hath so discovered. As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, As is a winged messenger of heaven

That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,-Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes

Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant Of mortals, that all back to gaze on him,

moon, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,

That monthly changes in her circled orb, And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Rom. What shall I swear by?

Jul. Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

Do not swear at all; Or, it thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious selt, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Which is the god of my idolatry,
Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? And I'll believe thee.

[ Aside.
Rom.

If my heart's dear love Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;

Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.

I have no joy of this contract to-night: What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot,

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Belonging to a man. O, be some other name

Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good-night! What's in a name? that which we call a rose,

This bull of love, by summer's ripening breath, By any other name would smell as sweet;

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. só Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,

Good-night, good-night! as sweet repose and rest Retain that dear per tion which he owes,”

Come to thy heart, as that within my breast! Without that title :-Romeo, doti'3 thy name;

Rom. 0, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? And for that name which is no part of thee,

Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to Take all myself.

night? Rom. I take thee at thy word:

Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;

mine. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd And yet I would it were to give again.

in night, So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purRom.

By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am:

Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,

And yet I wish but for the thing I have: Because it is an enemy to thee;

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, Had I it written, I would tear the word.

My love as deep; the more I give to thet, Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words

The more I have, for both are intinite. of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; I hear some noise within : Dear love, adieu!

(Nurse calls withu Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? Rom. Neither, fair saint, it either thee dislike.

Anon, good nurse !-Sweet Montague, be true.

(Exit. Jul. How cam’st thou hither, tell me? and where- Stay but a little, I will come again. fóre ?

Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Humid, moist. : Owns, possesses. : Do off, put off. * Hindrance.

• Unless.

it:

pose, love?

• Shy.

Being in night, all this is bul a dream,

Many for many virtues excellent,
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.

None but for some, and yet all different.
Re-enter JULIET, above.

0, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good-night, For naught so vile that on the earth doth live,

In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities. indeed.

But to the earth some special good doth give; If that thy bent? of love be honorable,

Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,

Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse' By one that I'll procure to come to thee,

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite;

And vice sometime's by action dignitied. And all my fortunes at thy foot l'll lay,

Within the intant rind of this small flower And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world :

Poison hath residence, and med'cine power: Nurse. (Within.] Madam.

For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each Jul. I come, anon :-But if thou mean'st not

part, well,

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. I do beseech thee,

Two such opposed foes encamp them still Nurse. (Within.] Madam.

In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will Jul.

By and by, I come :

And where the worser is predominant, To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. To-morrow will I send. Rom. So thrive my soul,-

Enter ROMEO. Jul. A thousand times good-night! [Exit. Rom. Good-morrow, father! Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy Fri.

Benedicite! light.

What carly tongue so sweet saluteth me? Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their Young soli, it argues a distemper'd head, books,

So soon to bid good-morrow to thy bed: But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,

(Retiring slowly. And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; Re-enter Juliet, above.

But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain

Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! –0, for a falconer's Therefore thy carliness doth me assure, voice,

Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature; To lure this tassel-gentle back again!

Or if not so, then here I hit it rightBondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. Else would I tear the cave where echo lies,

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine. And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father! no; Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name: I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou Like softest music to attending ears!

been then? Jul. Romeo !

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
Rom.
My sweet!

I have been feasting with mine enemy;.
Jul.
At what o'clock to-morrow

Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
Shall I send to thee?

That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Rom.
At the hour of nine.

Within thy help and holy physic lies:
Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then. I bear no hatred, blessed man: for, lo,
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

My intercession likewise steads my foe. Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift, Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Riddling confession finds but riddling shritt. Rememb’ring how I love thy company.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,

set Forgetting any other home but this.

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone: As mine on hers, so hess is set on mine; And yet no further than a wanton's bird;

And all combined, save what thou must combine Who lets it hop a little from her hand,

By holy marriage, when, and where, and how, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 9

We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, So loving-jealous of his liberty.

That thou consent to marry us this day. Rom. I would, I were thy bird.

Fri. Holy saint Francis! what a change is here! Jul.

Sweet, so would I: Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies Good-night, good-night! parting is such sweet sor- Not truly in their hearts but in their eyes. row,

Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine That I shall say-good-night, till it be morrow. Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!

[Exit. How much salt water thrown away in waste, Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy To season love, that of it doth not taste! breast !

The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!

Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;

Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit His help to crave, and my dear hap' to tell. (Exit. Or an old fear that is not wash'd off yet: SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's Cell.

If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,

Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket.

And art thou changed ? pronounce this sentenco Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning

thennight,

Women may fall, when there's no strength in men Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. And fleckede darkness like a drunkard reels

Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's wheels: Rom. And bad'st me bury love. Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,

Fri.

Not in a grave The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, To lay one in, another out to have. I must fill up this osier cage of ours,

Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.

now, The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; What is her burying grave, that is her womb: The other did not so. And from her womb children of divers kind

Fri.

0, she knew well, We sucking on her natural bosom find;

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. 1 Inclination.

Bui come, young waverer, come go with me, • The teircel is the male hawk, the falcon the female. In one respect I'll thy assistant be; • Fetters.

* Chance, fortune.

For this alliance may so happy prove, · Spotted, streaked.

To turn your households' rancor to pure love.