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They fay, Jove laughs. Oh, gentle Romeo,
If thou doft love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if you think, I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverfe, and fay thee nay,
So thou wilt wooe: but, elfe, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;

And therefore thou may'ft think my 'haviour light :
But trust me, Gentleman, I'll prove more true,
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, 1 muft confefs,
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's paffion; therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath fo discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow,
That tips with filver all these fruit-tree tops-

Jul. O fwear not by the moon, th' inconftant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb; Left that thy love prove likewife variable. Rom. What fhall I swear by ?

Jul. Do not fwear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, fwear by thy gracious felf,
Which is the God of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my true heart's love

Jul. Well, do not fwear-although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night;

It is too rafh, too unadvis'd, too sudden,

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can fay, it lightens-Sweet, good night.
This bud of love by fummer's ripening breath
May prove a beauteous flower, when next we meet:
Good night, good night-as fweet repofe and reft
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me fo unfatisfied?
Jul. What fatisfaction canst thou have to-night?
Rom. Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
Jul. I gave thee mine, before thou didst request it;
And yet I would, it were to give again.
Rem. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose,

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Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the fea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

I hear fome noife within; dear love, adieu!

[Nurfe calls within. Anon, good nurfe:- -Sweet Mortague, be true: Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O bleffed, bleffed night! I am afraid,
Being in night, all this is but a dream;
Too flattering-fweet to be fubftantial.

Re-enter Juliet above.

[Exit.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed: If that thy bent of love be honourable,

Thy purpose marriage, fend me word to-morrow,
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;
And all my fortunes at thy foot Ï'll lay,
And follow thee, my love, throughout the world.

[Within: Madam. I come, anon- -but if thou mean'ft not well, I do befeech thee-[Within: Madam.] By and by, I

come

To ceafe thy fuit, and leave me to my grief.
To-morrow will I fend.

Rom. So thrive my foul,

Jul A thousand times, good night.

[Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.

Love goes tow'rd love, as fchool-boys from their books; But love from love, tow'rds school with heavy looks.

Enter Juliet again.

ful. Hift! Romeo, hift! O for a falkner's voice,
To lure this taffel gentle back again—
Bondage is hoarfe, and may not speak aloud;
Elfe would I tear the cave where Echo lies,

And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name, How filver-fweet found lovers' tongues by night, Like fofteft mufick to attending ears!

Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My fweet!

ful. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I fend to thee?

Rom. By the hour of nine.

Jul. I will not fail, 'tis twenty years 'till thenI have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me ftand here 'till thou remember it. Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee still stand there; Remembring how I love thy company.

Row. And I'll ftill ftay to have thee ftill forget, Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone, And yet no further than a wanton's bird,

That lets it hop a little from her hand,

Like a poor prifoner in his twisted

gyves,

And with a filk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, fo would I;

Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing.

Good night, good night. Parting is fuch sweet forrow, That I fhall fay good night, 'till it be morrow.

[Exit.

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!

"Would I were fleep and peace, fo fweet to reft!
Hence will I to my ghoftly Friar's close cell,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

Fri.

SCENE changes to a Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.

THE

[Exit.

'HE grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning
night,

Check'ring the eastern clouds with ftreaks of light:
And darkness flecker'd, like a drunkard, reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's burning wheels.

Now

Now ere the fun advance his burning eye,
The day to chear, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this ofier-cage of ours

With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's Nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb;
And from her womb children of divers kind
We fucking on her natural bosom find:
Many for many virtues excellent,

None but for fome, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies
In plants, herbs, ftones, and their true qualities.
Nor nought fo vile, that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth fome fpecial good doth give :
Nor aught fo good, but, ftrain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, ftumbling on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being mifapplied;
And vice fometime by action's dignify'd.
Within the infant rind of this fmall flower
Poifon hath refidence, and med'cine power:
For this being fmelt, with that fenfe chears each part;
Being tafted, flays all fenfes with the heart.
Two fuch oppofed foes encamp them ftill
In man, as well as herbs, Grace and rude Will:
And where the worfer is predominant,
Full-foon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter Romeo.

Rom. Good morrow, father.

Fri. Benedicite!

What early tongue fo fweet faluteth me?
Young fon, it argues a diftemper'd head
So foon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And, where care lodgeth, fleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuft brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden fleep doth reign.
Therefore thy earliness doth me affure,
Thou art up-rouz'd by fome diftemp'rature;

Of

Or if not fo, then here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom. That laft is true, the fweeter reft was mine.
Fri. God pardon fin! waft thou with Rosaline?
Rm. With Rofaline, my ghoftly father? no.
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. [then?
Fri. That's my good fon: but where haft thou been
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou afk it me again;

I have been feafting with mine enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy phyfick lies;
I bear no hatred, bleffed man, for, lo,
My interceffion likewife fteads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good fon, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confeffion finds but riddling fhrift.

Kom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is fet On the fair daughter of rich Capulet;

As mine on hers, fo hers is set on mine;

And all combin'd; fave what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pafs; but this I
pray,
That thou confent to marry us this day."

Fri. Holy Saint Franci, what a change is here!
Is R faline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So foon forfaken? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Fefu Maria! what a deal of brine

Hath washt thy fallow cheeks for Rosaline?
How much falt water thrown away in waste,
To feafon love, that of it doth not taste ?
The fun not yet thy fighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears:
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth fit
Of an old tear, that is not wash'd off yet.
If e'er thou waft thyself, and thefe woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rofaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this fentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Rom.

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