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To lure this tassel-gentle 1 back again !
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Ro. It is my soul, that calls upon my name :
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears !

Ju. Romeo !


At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?

At the hour of nine.
Ju. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

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;
Forgetting any other home but this.
Ju. 'Tis almost morning: I would have thee

And yet no farther than a wanton's bird ;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 2
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Ro. I would, I were thy bird.

1 The male of the gosshawk.

2 Fetters.


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 :

Spotted, streaked.

2 The sun's.

And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
0, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities :
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power :
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
And, where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter ROMEO.

Ro. Good morrow, father!
F. Lau.

Benedicite !
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?-
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye;
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie:

But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth

reign : Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, Thou art uproused by some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right;Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. Ro. That last is true, the sweeter rest was

mine. F. Lau. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosa

line ? Ro. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. F. Lau. That's my good son: but where hast

thou been then ? Ro. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again : I have been feasting with mine enemy; Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, That 's by me wounded : both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies. I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. F. Lau. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy

drift: Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.1 Ro. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is

set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet :

i Absolution.

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combined, save 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 pass; but this I

pray, That thou consent to marry us this day. F. Lau. Holy saint Francis! what a change is

here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it doth not taste ! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears ; Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears : Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet. If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline : And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence

then ;

Women may fall, when there 's no strength in men.

Ro. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
F. Lau. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Ro. And badest me bury love.
F. Lau.

Not in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.

Ro. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love now, Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;

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