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than you,

A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.

SCENE IV.-A street. Enter Romeo, Mercu* Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon ihy face? țio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers, Torcha'r Thou will fall backward, when thou com'st to bearers, and others.

age; 1 Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-Ay. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

excusc! Nurse. Peace, I have done. "God 'mark thee to Or shall we on without apology? his grace!'.

Ben. The date is out of such, prolixity :: Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: We'll have no cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,

An I might live to see thee married once, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, 15 I have my wish.

Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper ;
La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme

Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
I came to talk of : -Tell me, daughter Juliet, After the prompter, for our entrance:
How stands your disposition to be married !' But, let them measure us by what they will,
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

We'll measure them a measure,' and be gone.
Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, Roin. Give me a torch,'-I am not for this am-
I'd say, thou hast suck'd wisdom from thy teat.

bling; La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

dance. Are made already mothers : by my count,

Rom. Noti, belicve me: you have dancing shoes, I was your mother much upon these years,

With nimble soles: I have a sole of lead, That you are now a maid.Thus then, in brief;- So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man,

and soar with them above a common bound. As all the world—Why, he's a man of wax.? Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, flower.

I cannot bound a pitch above dull wo: Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very Urder love's heavy burden do I sink. flower.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love ; La. Cap. What say you ? can you love the gen-Too great oppression for a tender ihing. tleman ?

Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, This night you shall behold him at our feast : Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn. Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,

Mer. !( love be rough with you, be rough with And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;

love; Examine every married lineament,

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. And see how one another lends content ;

Give me a case to put my visage in :And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,

(Putting on a mask. Find written in the margin of his eyes.3

A visor for a visor !-what care I,
This precious book of love, this unbound lover, What curious eye doth quote' deformities?
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:

Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.
The fish lives in the sea ;+ and 'tis much pride, Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in,
Por fair without the fair within to hide :

But every man betake him to his'legs.
That book in many's eyes dolh share the glory, Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,
Tiiat in gold clasps locks in the golden story: Tickle the senseless rushesło with their heels;
shall you share all that he doth possess,

For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase, by having him, making yourseli no less.

I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, -
Nurse. No less ? nay, beggar; women grow by The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done."

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own
La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris'

word: love ?

If thou art dun, we'll draw thec from the mire Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move :

of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st But no more deep will I endart mine eve

Un to the ears.--Come, we burn day-light, ho. Than your consent give strength to make it fly. Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Mer.

I mean, sir, in delay
Enter a Servant.

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by doy. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. But 'tis no wit to go.

Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask;
I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county

Mer.

Why, may onc ask ?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy

Ner.

And so did I. days.

[Exeuni.

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer.

That dreamers often lie.
(1) Favour.
(2) Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax. (7) A dance.

(3) The comments on ancient books were al (8) A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to ways printed in the margin.

every troop of maskers. (4) i. e. Is not yet caught, whose skin was want (9) Observe. ed to bind him.

(15) It was anciently the custom to strew rooms (5) i. e. Long speeches are out of fashion. with rushes.

( scare-croir a figure made up to frighten (11) This is equivalent to phrases in common crows.

use-Í am clone, for it is over with me

men.

4

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things, SCENE V-A hall in Capulet's house. Me true.

cians waiting. Enter Servants. Mer. 0, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to te you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes

away? he shift a trencher ? he scrape a trenche: In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in On the fore-finger of an old alderman,

or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, tis! Drawn with a team of little atomies!

foul thing. Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove th. Her waggon-spokes made oi long spinners' legs; court-cupboard,“ look to the plate :--good thu The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;

save me a piece of marchpane;' and, as The traces, of the smallest spider's web;

lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstoot, The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams : and Nell.–Antony! and Potpan! Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: 2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready. Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,

i Serv. You are looked for, and called for, ask: Not hall so big as a round little worm

for, and sought for in the great chamber. Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.Her chariot is an empty hazle-nut,

Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the long Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,

liver take all.

[They retire behin Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.

Enter Capulet, fc. vith the Guests, and is And in this state she gallops night by night

Maskers. Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love :

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have their On courtiers' knees, that dream on courtsies

toes straight :

Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you:O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees : Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; Will now deny to dance ? she that makes dainty, shs Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you nca Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. You are welcome, gentlemen: I have seen the day, Sometiine she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, That I have worn a visor; and could tell And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:? A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Such as would please ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, es Tickling a parson's nose as ’a lics asleep,

gone : Then dreams he of another benefice :

You are welcome, gentlemen.-Conne, musicia Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,

play. And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. Of breaches, ambuscadocs, Spanish blades,

(Music plays, and they donde Or healths five fathom deep; and then anon More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up Druins in his car; at which he starts, and wakes; And quench the fire, the room is grown loo hotAnd, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, Ah, sírrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well. And sleeps again. This is that very Mal), Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; That plats the manes of horses in the night ; For you and I are past our dancing days: And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, How long is't now, since last yourself and I Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes. Were in a mask? This is the hay, when maids lie on their backs,

By'r lady, thirty vears. That presses them, and learns them first to bear, 1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so Making them women of good carriage.

much: This, this is she

'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Rom.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Thou talk'st of nothing.

Some five-and-twenty years; and then we mask'd Mer.

True, I talk of dreams; 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is eldur, sa: Which are the children of an idle brain,

His son is thiriy. Begot of nothing but vain santasy;

1 Cap.

Will you tell me tha: 1 Which is as thin os substance as the air ;

His son was but a ward two years ago. And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the Even now the frozen bosom of the north,

hand And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Of vonder knight? Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

Serv. I know not, sir. Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn brigai! selves;

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:

Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. With this night's revels; and expire the term The measure done, I'll watch her place of star, Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,

And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. By some vile forfeit of untimely death:

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! But He, that hath the steerage of my course, For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. Direct my sail !-On, lusty gentlemen.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

(4) A cupboard set in a corner, like a beaulet, ca (1) Atoms.

(2) A place in court. which the plate was placed. (3) 1. e. Fairy-locks, locks of hair clotted and (5) Almond-cake. tangled in the night,

(6) i. e. Make room. 17) The dance.

2 Cap.

1 Cap.

Fetch me my rapier, boy :-What! dares the slave Rom, What is her mother ?
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,

Nurse.

Marry, bachelor,
To Deer and scorn at our solemnity?

Her mother is the lady of the house,
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous :
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her,
storm you so ?

Shall have the chinks.
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;

Rom.

Is she a Capulet ?
A villain, that is hither come in spite,

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
1 Cap. Young Romeo
is't?

Rom. Ay, so I sear; the more is my unrest. Tyb.

'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, We have a trilling foolish banquet towards.
He bears him like a portly gentleman;

Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,

I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night :-
To be a virtuous and well-governd youth: More torches here!--Come on, then let's to bed.
I would not for the wealth of all this town, Ah, sirrah, (To 2 Cap.) by my fay," it waxes late;
Here in my house, do him disparagement: I'll to my rest. (Exeunt all but Júliet and Nurse.
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,

Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman ?
It is my will; the which is thou respect,

Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns, Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest; Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not
I'll not endure him.

dance?
He shall be endur'd;

Nurse. I know not.
What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall;-Go to; Jul. Go, ask his name:-if he be married,
Am I the master here, or you? go to.

My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
You'll not endure him!—God shall mend my soul Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
You'll make a mutiny among my guests !

The only son of your great enemy.
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Too early seen unknown, and known too late ! i Cap.

Go to, go to, Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
You are a saucy boy :-Is't so, indeed ?

That I must love a loathed enemy,
This trick may chance to scath' you ;-I know what. Nurse. What's this? what's this?
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time-

Jul.

A rhyme I learn'd even now
Well said, my hearts :-You are a princox;'90: Of one I danc'd withal.' [One calls within, Juliet.
Be quiet, or-More light, more light, for shame! Nurse,

Anon, anon :-
I'll make you quiet; What !-Cheerly, my hearts. Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meet.

(Exeunt. ing,

Enter Chorus,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. (Exit. And young affection gapes to be his heir;
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand

That fair, which love groan'd for, and would die,

(TO Juliet. With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair. This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,

Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand Alike bewitched by the charm of looks ;

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too

And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks : much,

Being held a foe, he may not have access
Which mannerly devotion shows in this ;

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear ;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And she as much in love, her means much less
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss,

To meet her now-beloved any where:
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? But passion lends them power, time means to meet,
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. (Exit.

prayer.
Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands
They prav, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

ACT II.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for
prayers' sake.

SCENE I. In open place, adjoining Capulet's
Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I

garden. Enter Romeo. take.

Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Thus from iny lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

(Kissing her. Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

[He climbs the wall, and leaps clown within it. Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!

Enter Benvolio, and Mercutio.
Give me my șio again.

Ben. Rorneo! my cousin Romeo !
Jul.
You kiss by the book.

Mer.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with And, on my lise, hath stolen him home to bed.
you.

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard

wall:
(1) Do you an injury. (2) A coxcomb.
A collation of fruit, wine, &c.

(4) Faith.

(5) i. e. Himself.

7

do;

He is wise,

Call, good Mercutio.

Jud.

Ah me!
Mer.
Nay, I'll conjure too. Rom.

She speaks :-
Romeo! humours! madam! passion! lover ! O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;

As is a winged messenger of hearen
Cry but-Ah me! couple but-love and dove; Unto the white up-turned wond'ring eyes
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,

And sails upon the bosom of the air. When king Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid.' Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Ro He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;

meo? The apeo is dead, and I must conjure him. Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, By her forehead, and her scarlet lip,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet. By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, kom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this ? And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,

(.tside. That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy ;Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.

Mer. This cannot anger'him : 'twould anger him What's Montague ? ii is nor hand, nor foot, To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; What's in a name ? that which we call a rose,
That were some spite; my invocation

By any other name would smell as sweet;
Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, Só Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those Without that title:-Romeo, doff thy name; trees,

And for that name, which is no part of thee,
To be consorted with the humorous' night: Take all myself.
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Rom.

I take thee at thy word. Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Now will he sit under a modlar-tree,

Henceforth I never will be Romeo. And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.

in night, Romeo, good night;-I'll to my truckle-beld; So stumblest on my counsel ? This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:

Rom.

By a name Come, shall we go ?

I know not how to tell thee who I am: Ben.

Go then; for 'tis in vain My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, To seek him here, that means not to be found. Because it is an enemy to thee;

(Exeunt. Had Lit written, I would tear the word. SCENE II.-Capulet's garden. Enter Romeo. or that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound;

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.- Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ?

[Juliet appears above, at a window. Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. But, soft! what light through yonder window Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and breaks?

wherefore? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

And the place death, considering who thou art, Who is already sick and pale with griel,

If any of my kinsmen find thec here. That thou her maid art far more fair than she : Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch Be not her maid, 4 since she is envious;

these walls; Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

For stony limits cannot hold love out: And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.- And what love can do, that dares love attempt, It is my lady; 0, it is my love:

Therefore thy kinsmen are not let' to me. 0, that she knew she were !

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that? Rom. Alack! there lies more perii in thine ere, Her eye discourses, I will answer it.

Than twenty of their swords ; look thou but swees, I am too bold, 'lis not to me she speaks:

And I am proof against their enmity. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee bere. Having some business, do entreat her eyes

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their To twinkle in the spheres till they return.

sight; What if her eyes were there, they in her head? And, but thou love me, let them find me here: The brightness of her cheek would shame those My life were better ended by their hate, stars,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this Would through the airy region stream so bright,

place? That birds would sing, and think it were not night. Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire, Seu, how she leans her check upon her hand! He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 0, that I were a glove upon that hand,

I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far That I might touch that cheek!

As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, (1) Alluding to the old ballad of the king and (3) Humid, moist. the beggar.

(4) A volary to the moon, to Diana. (2) This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used (5) Owns, possesses,

(6) Do off. as an expression of tenderness,

(7) Hindrance. (8) Unless thou love me.

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I would adventure for such merchandise.

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
face;

Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite;
Else would a '

maiden blush bepaint my cheek, And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny, Nurse. [1Vithin. | Madam.
What I have spoke; But farewell compliment! Jul. I come, anon:-But if thou mecn'st not
Dost thou love me 1 I know, thou wilt say-Ay;:

well,
And I will take thy word: yet, if thcu swear'st, I do beseech ihee,-
Thou may'st prove false; al lovers' perjuries, Nurse. [Within.] Madam.
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,

Jul.

By and by, I come: If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: Or is thou think'st I am too quickly won,

To-morrow will í send.
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, Rom.

So ihrive my soul,-
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world. Jul. A thousand times good night! (Exit.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour' light: light.-
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.?

books;
I should have been more strange, I must confess, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was 'ware,

[Retiring slowly. My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;

Re-enter Juliet, abore.
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, for a falconer's
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,

voice, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,

To lure this tassel-gentle' back again!
Jul. 6, swear not by the moon, the inconstant Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;

Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,

And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

With repetition of my Romeo's name. Rom. What shall I swear by ?

Ron. It is my soul, that calls upon my name: Jul.

Do not swear at all; How silver-swect sound lovers' tongues by night, Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

Like sostest music to attending ears! Which is the god of my idolatry,

Jul. Romeo ! And I'll believe thce.

Rom.

My sweet!
Rom.
If my heart's dear love-

Jul.

At what o'clock to-morrow
Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, Shall I send to thee?
I have no joy of this contract to-night:

Rom.

At the hour of nine. It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;

Jul. I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,

I have forgot why I did call thee back. Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good night!

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,

Ju. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet, Rememb’ring how I love thy company.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast! Forgetting any other hoine but this.
Rom. 0, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ?

Jul. "Tis almost morning, I would have thee
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

gone:
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
for mine.

Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And yet I would it were to give again.

And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what pur-

So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird. Jul. But to be frank,' and give it thee again.

Jul.

Swest, so would I : And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet Mly love as deep; the more I give to thee,

sorrow, The more I have, for both are infinite.

That I shall say-good night, till it be morrow. [Nurse calls within.

(Exit. I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu!

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy,

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

[Erit.

'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afcard,

Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell; Being in night, ali this is but a dream,

His help to crave, and my dear hap' lo tell. (Exit.
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Fri-
Re-enter Juliet, above.

ar Laurence, with a basket.
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning
indeed.

night, If that thy bent of love be honourable,

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;

And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
(1) Behaviour. (2) Shy.
(3) Free. (4) inclination.

(6) Fetters.

(7) Chance, fortune. 15) The male of the goshawk.

(8) Spotled, streakcd. VOL. II.

3R

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pose, love?

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