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Ben. He came this way, and leapt this orchard wall. Call good Mercutio.
Mer. Call, nay Ile coniure too. Romeo, madman, humors, passion, liuer, appeare thou in likenes of a sigh: speak but one rime and I am satisfied, cry but ay me. Pronounce but loue and doue, speake to my gossip Venus one faire word, one nick name for her purblinde sonne and heire young Abraham : Cupid hee that shot so trim when young king Cophetua loued the begger wench. Hee heares me not. I coniure thee by Rosalindes bright eye, high forehead, and scarlet lip, her prettie foote, straight leg, and quiuering thigh, and the demaines that there adiacent lie, that in thy likenese thou appeare to vs.
Ben. If he doe heare thee thou wilt anger him.
Mer. Tut this cannot anger him, marrie if one shuld raise a spirit in his mistris circle of some strange fashion, making it there to stand till she had laid it, and coniurde it downe, that were some spite. My inuocation is faire and honest, and in his mistris name I coniure onely but to raise vp him.
Ben. Well he hath hid himselfe amongst those trees,
To be consorted with the humerous night,
Blinde in his loue, and best befits the darke.
Mer. If loue be blind, loue will not hit the marke,
Now will he fit vnder a medler tree,
And wish his mistris were that kinde of fruite,
As maides call medlers when they laugh alone.
Ah Romeo that she were, ah that the were
An open Et cætera, thou a poprin peare.
Romeo God night, il'e to my trundle bed :
This field bed is too cold for mce.
Come lets away, for tis but vaine,
To seeke him here that meanes not to be found.
Ro. He iests at scars that neuer felt a wound :
But soft, what light forth yonder window breakes?
It is the east, and Iuliet is the funne,
Arise faire sunne, and kill the enuious moone
That is alreadie ficke, and pale with griefe :
That thou her maid, art far more faire than she.
Be not her maide since she is enuious,
Her veltall liuerie is but pale and greene,
And none but fooles doe weare it, cast it off.
She speakes, but she sayes nothing. What of that ?
Her eye discourseth, I will answere it.
I am too bold, tis not to me she speakes,
Two of the fairest starres in all the skies,
Hauing some busines, do entreat her eyes
To twinckle in their spheares till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
The brightnes of her cheekes would shame those stars :
As day-light doth a lampe, her eyes in heauen,
Would through the airie region streame so bright,
That birdes would fing, and thinke it were not night.
Oh now she leanes her cheekes vpon her hand,
I would I were the gloue to that same hand,
That I might kisse that cheeke.
Iul. Ay me.
Rom. She speakes, oh speake againe bright angell :
For thou art as glorious to this night beeing ouer my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Vnto the white vpturned woondring eyes,
Of mortals that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he beftrides the lasie pacing cloudes,
And sailes vpon the bosome of the aire.
Iul. Ah Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo ?
Denie thy father, and refuse thy name,
Or if thou wilt not be but sworne my loue,
And Il’e no longer be a Capulet.
Rom. Shall I heare more, or shall I speake to this?
Iul. Tis but thy name that is mine enemie.
Whats Mountague ? It is nor hand nor foote,
Nor arme, nor face, nor any other part.
Whats in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet :
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cald,
Retaine the diuine perfection he owes :
Without that title Romeo part thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee,
Take all I haue.
Rom. I take thee at thy word,
Call me but loue, and Il’e be new baptisde,
Henceforth I neuer will be Romeo.
Iu. What man art thou, that thus beskrind in night,
Doest stumble on my counsaile ?
Ro. By a name I know not how to tell thee.
My name deare saint is hatefull to my selfe,
Because it is an enemie to thee.
Had I it written I would teare the word.
Iul. My eares have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongues vtterance, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo and a Mountague ?
Rom. Neyther faire faint, if eyther thee displease.
Iul. How camst thou hether, tell me and wherfore?
The orchard walles are high and hard to clime,
And the place death considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen finde thee here.
Ro. By loues light winges did I oreperch these wals,
For stonie limits cannot hold loue out,
And what loue can doo, that dares love attempt,
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
Iul. If they doe finde thee they will murder thee.
Rom. Alas there lies more perrill in thine eyes,
Then twentie of their swords, looke thou but sweete,
And I am proofe against their enmitie.
lul. I would not for the world they shuld find thee here.
Ro. I have nights cloak to hide thee from their sight,
And but thou loue me let them finde me here:
For life were better ended by their hate,
Than death proroged wanting of thy loue.
Iul. By whose directions foundlt thou out this place.
Ro. By loue, who first did prompt me to enquire,
I he gaue me counsaile and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot: yet wert thou as farre
As that vast shore, washt with the furthest sea,
I would aduenture for such marchandise.
Iul. Thou knows the maske of night is on my face,
Els would a maiden blush bepaint my cheeks :
For that which thou laste heard me speake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faine faine denie,
What I haue spoke: but farewell complements,
Doeft thou love me? Nay I know thou wilt say I,
And I will take thy word : but if thou swearst,
Thou maiest proue false :
At louer periuries they say Ioue smiles.
Ah gentle Romeo, if thou loue pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinke I am too easely wonne,
Il'e frowne and say thee day and be peruerse,
So thou wilt wooe : but els not for the world,
In truth faire Mountague, I am too fond,
And therefore thou maiest thinke my hauiour light:
But trust me gentleman Ile proue more true,
Than they that haue more cunning to be strange.
I should haue bin strange I must confesse,
But that thou ouer-heardst ere I was ware
My true loues passion : therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yeelding to light loue,
Which the darke night hath so discouered.
Ro. By yonder blessed moone I sweare,
That tips with siluer all these fruit trees tops.
Iul. O sweare not by the moone the vnconstant moone,
That monthlie changeth in her circled orbe,
Least that thy loue proue likewise variable.
Ro. Now by
Iul. Nay doo not sweare at all,
Or if thou sweare, sweare by thy glorious selfe,
Which art the God of my idolatrie,
And Il'e beleeue thee.
Ro. If my true harts loue
Iul. Sweare not at al, though I doo ioy in thee,
I haue small ioy in this contract to night,
It is too rath, too fodaine, too vnaduisde,
Too like the lightning that doth cease to bee
Ere one can say it lighteris. I heare some comming,
Deare loue adew, sweet Mountague be true,
Stay but a little and Il'e come againe.
Ro. O blessed blessed night, I feare being night,
All this is but a dreame I heare and see,
Too Aattering true to be substantiall.
Iul. Three wordes goode Romeo and good night indeed.
If that thy bent of loue be honourable
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow
By one that Il’e procure to come to thee :
Where and what time thou wilt performe that right,
And al my fortunes at thy foote Il'e lay,
And follow thee my lord through out the world.
Ro. Loue goes toward loue like schoole boyes from their
But loue from loue, to schoole with heauie lookes.