Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, And but thou love me, let them find me here;

My life were better ended by their hate,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

Jul. 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 merchandise.

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

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. O, gentle Romeo!
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and 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 coying to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'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 discover'd.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-

Jul. O swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moo
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 heart's dear 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, which 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.

And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

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!

Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O, blessed, blessed night! I am afear'd,
Being in night, all this is but a dream;

[Nurse calls within.]

Too flattering sweet to be substantial.

[Re-enter Juliet above.]

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.

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;

[Within: Madam !]

I come, anon-but if thou mean'st not well,

I do beseech thee-[Within: Madam!] 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.

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes tow'rd love, as school-boys from their books; But love from love, tow'rds school with heavy looks.

[Exit.]

[Enter Juliet again.]

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O 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.

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 still stay to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone;
And yet no further than a wanton's bird,

Who lets it hop a little from her hand,

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,

And with a silk thread plucks 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 with much cherishing.

Good night, good night: parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good night, till it be morrow.

Rom. 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 friar's close cell,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

[Exit Romeo and Juliet.]

SOLITUDE PREFERRED TO A COURT LIFE, AND THE ADVANTAGES

OF ADVERSITY.

Now my co-mates and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods

More free from peril than the envious court?

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,

The season's difference; as the icy fang

And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
This is no flattery;' these are counsellors

That feelingly persuade me what I am.

Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot!

Though thou the waters warp,

Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.

Heigh, ho! &c. &c.

[As You Like It,]

LIFE AND DEATH WEIGHED.

To be, or not to be, that is the question-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them? To die--to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to!-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die-to sleep-

To sleep!-perchance to dream!-ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause-there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life:

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death
(That undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns) puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not off?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn away,
And lose the name of action.

FEAR OF DEATH.

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;

To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,

[Hamlet.]

And blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling; 'tis too horrible!

The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment,
Can lay on nature, is a paradise

To what we fear of death.

[Measure for Measure.]

END OF ALL EARTHLY GLORIES.

Our revels now are ended: these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind! We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

[The Tempest.]

OTHELLO'S RELATION OF HIS COURTSHIP TO THE SENATE.

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

My very noble and approv'd good masters;

That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,

It is most true; true, I have married her;

The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,

And little blest with the soft phrase of peace;

For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith

Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action in the tented field;

And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;

And therefore shall I little grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet by your gracious patience

I will a round unvarnished tale deliver

Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms

What conjuration; and what mighty magic

(For such proceeding I am charg'd withal)

I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd me, oft invited me;

Still question'd me the story of my life,

From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have past.

I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days,

To the very moment that he bade me tell it:

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,

Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,