Is it even fo? why, then, I thank you all.

I thank you, honeft gentlemen, good night:
More torches here-come on, then let's to bed,
Ah, firrah, by my fay, it waxes late.

I'll to my reft.

[Exeunt Jul. Come hither, Nurfe. What is yon gentleman? Nurfe. The fon and heir of old Tiberio.

Jul. What's he that now is going out of door? Nurfe. That, as I think, is young Petruchio. Jul. What's he that follows here, that would not dance?

Nurfe. I know not.

Jul. Go, afk his name.

-If he be married,

My grave is like to be my wedding-bed.

Nurfe. His name is Romeo, and a Montague,

The only fon of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early feen, unknown; and known too late; Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I muft love a loathed enemy. Nurfe. What's this? what's this? Jul. A rhyme I learned even now

Of one I danced withal. [One calls within, Juliet. Nurfe. Anon, anon

Come, let's away, the ftrangers all are gone.

Enter Chorus.

[Exeunt.

Now old Defire doth on his death-bed ly,
And young Affection gapes to be his heir:
That fair, for which love groaned fore, and would die,
With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair.
Now Romeo is beloved, and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks:
But to his foe fuppofed he must complain,
And she steal love's fweet bait from fearful hooks.

Being held a foe, he may not have accefs

To breathe fuch vows as lovers ufe to fwear; And the, as much in love, her means much leis,

To meet her new-beloved any where: But paffion lends them power, Time means to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme fweet.

ACT II.

SCENE, the Street.

Enter ROMEO alone.

ROMEO.

[Exit Chorus.

CAN I go forward when my heart is here?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

Enter BENVOLIO, with MERCUTIO.

[Exit.

Ben. Romeo, my coufin Romeo.

Mer. He is wife,

And, on my life, hath ftolen him home to bed.
Ben. He ran this way, and leaped this orchard-wall.
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.

Why, Romeo! humours! madman! paffion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a figh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am fatisfied.
Cry but y me! couple but love and dove,
Speak to my goflip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name to her pur-blind fon and heir;
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot fo true, (13)

(13) Young Abraham Cupid, he that foot fu true, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid] Though I have VOL. IX.

A a

When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid
He heareth not, he ftirreth not, he moveth not,
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rofaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, ftraight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demefnes that there adjacent ly,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle,

Of fome strange nature, letting it there ftand
'Till fhe had laid it, and conjured it down;
That were fome spight. My invocation is
Honeft and fair, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

thefe trees,

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among To be conforted with the hum'rous night: Blind is his love, and beft befits the dark.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he fit under a medlar-tree,

And with his miftrefs were that kind of fruit, Which maids calls medlars, when they laugh alone.-

not disturbed the text, I conceive there may be an error in the word Abraham. I have no idea why Cupid should have this prænomen. I have fufpected that the Poet wrote,

Young auburn Cupid,-

i. e. brown-haired: because in feveral other paffages where auburn should be wrote, it is printed Abraham in the old books. This old ballad of the King enamoured of the beggar, is twice again alluded to by our Author, in his Love's Labour's Loft..

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Begrar? Moth. The world was guilty of fuch a ballad, fome three ages fince, but, I think, now 'tis not to be found.

And Armado afterwards, in his fuftian letter, names both the King and the beggar.

The magnanimous and most illuftrate King Cophetua fer eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon.

Romeo, good night; I'll to my truckle-bed,
This field-bed is too cold for me to fleep:
Come, fhall we go?

Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain

To feek him here that means not to be found.

[Exeunt

SCENE changes to Capulet's Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. He jefts at scars, that never felt a wound---But, foft! what light thro' yonder window breaks? It is the Eaft, and Juliet is the Sun !

[Juliet appears above, at a Window.

Arife, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already fick and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than fhe.
Be not her maid, fince fhe is envious:
Her veftal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off-
She fpeaks, yet fhe fays nothing; what of that?
Her eye difcourfes; I will anfwer it------
I am too bold, 'tis not to me fhe speaks:
Two of the fairest ftars of all the heaven,
Having fome business, do intreat her eyes
To twinkle in their fpheres 'till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightnefs of her cheek would fhame thofe ftars,
As day-light doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would fing, and think it were not night:
See, how the leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,,

That I might touch that cheek!

Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She fpeaks.

Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art (14)
As glorious to this fight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged meffenger from heaven,
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he beftrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bofom of the air.

Jul.. O Romeo, Romeo,---wherefore are thou
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: [Romeo?
Or, if thou wilt not, be but fworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I fpeak at this?

[Afide. Jul. Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyfelf, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face---nor any other part. What's in a name? that which we call a rofe, By any other name would fmell as fweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title; Romeo, quit thy name; And for thy name, which is no part of thee,. Take all myfelf.

Rom. I take thee at thy word:

Call me but Love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that thus, befcreened

So ftumbleft on my counsel?

[in night,

(14) Oh, fpeak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night,] Though all the printed copies con cur in this reading, yet the latter part of the fimile feems to require,

As glorious to this fight;

and therefore I have ventured to alter the text fo. i. e. Thou appeareft over my head as glorious to my eyes, as an angel in the clouds to mortals that ftare up at him with ad miration.