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They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
Ro. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,
Ju. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant
T'hat monthly changes in her circled orb,
Ro. What shall I swear by ?
Do not swear at all ;
heart's dear loveJu. Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
a beauteous flower when next we
meet. Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart, as that within my breast! Ro. 0, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? Ju. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Ro. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for
mine. Ju. I gave thee mine before thou didst request
And yet I would it were to give again.
Ro. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what pur
pose, love ?
Ju. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
[Nurse calls within.
[Exit. Ro. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Nurse. [within.] Madam.
Ju. I come, anon :--but if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee,
Nurse. [within.] Madam.
By and by I come:
So thrive my soul,
light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their
books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
Ju. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, for a falconer's
To lure this tassel-gentle 1 back again !
Ro. It is my soul, that calls upon my name :
Ju. Romeo !
At what o'clock to-morrow
At the hour of nine.
Ro. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Ju. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.
Ro. And I 'll still stay, to have thee still forget;
Ro. I would, I were thy bird.
1 The male of the gosshawk.
Sweet, so would I : Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such sweet
sorrow, That I shall say-good night, till it be morrow.
[Erit. Ro. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy
breast ! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell; His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.
Friar Laurence's cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket. F. Lau. The gray-eyed morn smiles on the
frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked 1 darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path, and Titan's ? fiery wheels. Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier 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 :
2 The sun's.