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Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among
To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Rom. I take thee at thy word:
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.Romeo, good night!-I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go?
Ben. Go, then! for 'tis in vain
To seek him here, that means not to be found.
Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Jul. Ah me!
Rom. She speaks: —
O, speak again, bright angel! for thon art
Rom. By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Ofthe tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
For stony limits cannot hold love ont:
Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title:- Romeo, doff thy name;
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
And, but thou love me, let them find me here:
Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
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 heart's dear love
I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Jul. Well, do not swear! although I joy in thee, Forgetting any other home but this.
I have no joy of this contract to-night:
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Jul. "Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone:
Rom. I would I were thy bird.
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! pur-Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;
[Nurse calls within. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true! Stay but a little, I will come again.
Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Re-enter JULIET, above.
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.
SCENE III.- Friar LAURENCE's cell.
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night in- What is her burying grave, that is her womb: deed,
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow
Iul. 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:
Rom. So thrive my soul,—
Jul. A thousand times good night!
[Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books;
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly.
Re-enter JULIET, above.
Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle 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.
Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name: How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears!
Rom. My sweet!
Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?
Rom. At the hour af nine.
Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then.
And from her womb children of divers kind
Rom. Good morrow, father!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?—
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here!
Fri. Not in a grave,.
To lay one in, another out to have.
Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love now,
Fri. O, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
SCENE IV.-A street.
Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answer it.
Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.
Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's buttshaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?
Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. 0, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, - of the first and second cause Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay!
Ben. The what?
Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new turners of accents!- By Jess a very good blade! a very tall man! — a very good whore!-Why, is not this a lamentable thing grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with thes strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonne moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? 0, their bons, their bons!
Ben, Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo! Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring:-0 flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! - Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench; - marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and barlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the parpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. Good-morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
Mer. The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceirs?
Rom. Pink for flower.
Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. Mer. Well said. Follow me this jest now, hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single se of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing solely singular.
Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; mỹ
cry a match.
Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose have done; for thou hast more of the wild goose one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my who five. Was I with you there for the goose? Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the goose. Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not! Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is most sharp sance.
Rom, And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad! Rom. I stretch it out for that word-broad: which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable,
now art thou Bo
Ben. Stop there, stop there!
Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against
meo; now art thon what thou art, by art as well as Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every by nature for this driveling love is like a great na-part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!-Pray you, tural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his sir, a word! and as I told you, my young lady bade bauble in a hole. me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young: and therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,
Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large. Mer. O, thou art deceived, I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale. and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. Rom. Here's goodly geer!
Enter Nurse and PETER.
Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail!
Ben. Two, two! a shirt, and a smock!
Nurse. My fan, Peter!
Mer. Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face; for her fau's the fairer of the two.
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen!
Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand
Nurse. By my troth, it is well said! - For himself to mar, quoth'a? - Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?
Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him, than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for 'fault of a worse.
Nurse. You say well.
Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i'faith; wisely, wisely.
Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
Ben. She will indite him to some supper.
Mer. No hare, sir! unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in lent:
But a hare that is hoar,
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Nurse. Good heart! and, i'faith, I will tell her as much: Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman.
Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
And there she shall, at friar Laurence' cell,
Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.
Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Rom. I warrant thee; my man's as true as steel. Nurse. Well, sir! my mistress is the sweetest lady -Lord, lord! when 'twas a little prating thing,-0, -there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale, as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?
Rom. Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R. is for the dog. No; I know it begins with some other letter: and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to hear it. dinner thither.
Rom. Commend me to thy lady!
Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before![Exeunt.
SCENE V.. CAPULET's garden.
Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the
Nurse.An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll take In half an hour she promis'd to return. him down an 'a were lustier, than he is, and twenty Perchance, she cannot meet him:- that's not so. such Jacks; and, if I cannot, I'll find those that O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand Driving back shadows over low'ring hills: by too, and suffer every knave to use at his plea-Therefore do nimble-piuion'd doves draw love, sure? And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I Now is the sun upon the highmost hill had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve warrant you! I dare draw as soon as another man, ifI Is three long hours, yet she is not come. sce occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave a while;
Nurse. Jesu, what haste? can you not stay a while?
Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast
To say to me- that thou art out of breath?
Jul. No, no! But all this did I know before:
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
Nurse. 0, God's lady dear!
Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
Here comes the lady!-O, so light a foot
Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Jul. I have.
Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell,
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
А С Т III.
SCENE I. A public place. Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants. Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire! The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stiring. Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says: God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cap draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no
Ben. Am I like such a fellow?
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
Ben, And what to?
Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thon! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking t having no other reason but because thou hast hard eyes. What eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, s an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. The