Imagens das páginas

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine

eye, Then twenty of their swords ; look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place ?

Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire,
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes ;
I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far
As that vast shore, wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandize.

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my

For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night,
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke-But, farewell compliment-
Dost thou love me?-I know thou wilt say,'ay,
And I will take thy word.-Yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries
They say, Jove laughs.--Oh, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or, if thou think I am too quickly won,
I'll be perverse, and say thee, nay,
So thou wilt woo : but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And, therefore, thou may'st 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, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moun, I vow,
That tips with silver all these tree tops
Jul. O swear not by the moon, the inconstant


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That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by ?
Jul. Do not swear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my true heart's love

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

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden,
Too like the lightning, that doth cease to be,
Ere one can say, it lightens.-Sweet, good night,
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove 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.

Rom. O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

Jul. What satisfaction 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.

Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?

Jul. But, to be frank, and give it thee again.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

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

I hear some noise within ;-dear love, adieu !—
Nurse. [Calls within.] Madam!

Jul. Anon, good Nurse


-Sweet Montague, be


Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afraid,
Being in night, all this is but a dream!
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.

Enter JULIET, above. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, in

deed : If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose, marriage, send 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 I'll lay, And follow thee, my love, throughout the world.

Nurse. [Within.] Madam !

Jul. I come, anon- -but if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee

Nurse. [Within.] Madam!

Jul. By and by, I come
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.
To-morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my soul.
Jul. A thousand times good night!

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

Enter JULIET. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falc'ner's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back againBondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud, Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her angry tongue more hoarse than miner With repetition of my Romeo.

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

Jul. Romeo !
Rom. My sweet!

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send 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 stand here, till thou remember it.

Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll stay here, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone, And yet not farther than a wanton's bird, That lets it hop a little from her hand, And with a silk thread pulls it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, so would I; Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sor

row, That I shall say, good night, 'till it be morrow. [Exit.

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest !


breast ;


A Monastery.

Enter FRIAR Lawrence, with a Basket. Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning

night, Check’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light; Now ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheat, and night's dank dew to dry, I must fill up this osier cage of ours, With baleful weeds, and precious juiced flowers. O mickle is the powerful grase that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.

For naught so vile, that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth, some special good doth give:
Not aught so good, but strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts to vice, and stumbles on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice, sometimes, by action's dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower,
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power:
For this being smelt, with that sense 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.
Rom. [Within.] Good morrow, father.
Fri. Benedicite,

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

Enter ROMEO.

Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good-morrow to thy pillow;
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodgeth, sleep will never bide:
But where with unstuff'd brain, unbruised youth
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep resides;
Therefore thy earliness assureth me,
Thou art uprous'd by some distemperature.
What is the matter, son?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again:
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where, to the heart's core, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help, and holy physic lie.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is


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