My Bounty is as boundless as the Sea, I hear fome Noife within; dear Love adieu. Anon, good Nurfe [Nurfe calls within, Sweet Mountague be true: Stay but a little, I will come again. Being in Night, all this is but a Dream, Too flattering fweet to be fubftantial. Re-enter Juliet above. Jul. Three Words, dear Romeo, If that thy bent of Love be Honourable, Where and what time thou wilt perform the Rite,' I come, anon [Exit. [Within: Madam, -but if thou meaneft not well, I do beseech thee By and by, I come To Morrow will I fend. [Within: Madam. To cease thy Strife, and leave me to my Grief. Rem. So thrive my Soul, Jul. A thoufand times good Night. [Exit. Rom. A thoufand times the worfe to want thy light, Love goes toward Love, as School-boys from their Books, But Love from Love, towards School with heavy Looks, Enter Juliet again. Jul. Hift! Romeo, hift! O for a Falkner's Voice, To lure this Taffel gently back again. Bondage is hoarfe and may not fpeak aloud, Elle would I tear the Cave where Eccho lyes, And make her airy Tongue more hoarfe Then with The repetition of my Romeo Rom. It is my Soul that calls upon my Name. How filver-fweet found Lovers Tongues by Night, Like fofteft Mufick to attending Ears. Jul. Jul. Romeo. Rom. My Sweet. Jul. What a Clock to Morrow Shall I fend to thee? Rom. By the hour of Nine. Jul. I will not fail, 'tis twenty Years 'till then, I have forgot why I did call thee back. Rom. Let me ftand here 'till thou remember it. Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee ftill ftand there, Remembring how I love thy Company. Rom. And I'll ftill ftay to have thee ftill forget, Jul. 'Tis almoft Morning, I would have thee gone. Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing: Rom. Parting is fuch fweet Sorrow, That I fhall fay Good Night 'till it be Morrow. Jul. Sleep dwell upon thine Eyes, peace in thy Breaft, Would I were Sleep and Peace, fo fweet to Reft. [Exit. Rom. The gray-ey'd Morn fmiles on the frowning Night, Check'ring the Eastern Clouds with ftreaks of Light, And Darkness fleckell'd like a Drunkard reels, From forth Days path-way, made by Titan's Wheels. Hence will I to my Ghoftly Friar's close Cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. SCENE IV. A Monaftery. Enter Friar Lawrence, with a Basket: Fri. Now e'er the Sun advance his burning Eye, The Day to chear, and Night's dank Dew to dry, I must up-fill this Ofier Cage of ours, [Exit. With baleful Weeds, and precious juiced Flowers. Within the infant Rind of this weak Flower, Full foon the Canker Death cats up that Plant. Fri. Benedicite. What early Tongue fo fweet falutes mine Ear? Rom. That laft is true, the sweeter Reft was mine. Fri. God pardon Sin; waft thou with Rofaline? Rom. With Rofaline, my Ghoftly Father? No. I have forgot that Name, and that Name's Woe. Fri. That's my good Son: but where haft thou been then? Rom Rom. I'll tell thee e'er thou ask it me again; Fri. Be plain, good Son, reft homely in thy drift, Rom. Then plainly know my Heart's dear Love is fet On the fair Daughter of rich Capulet; As mine on hers, fo hers is fet on mine; And all combin'd, fave what thou must combine Fri. Holy Saint Francis, what a Change is here? Hath washt thy fallow Cheeks for Refaline? If e'er thou waft thy felf, and these Woes thine, Fri. Not in a Grave, To lay one in, another out to have. Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I love now Doth Grace for Grace, and Love for Love allow The The other did not fo. Fri. Oh fhe knew well, Thy Love did read by Rote, that could not spell; For this Alliance may fo happy prove, To turn your Houfhold-rancour to pure Love. Fri. Wifely and flow, they ftumble that run faft. SCENE V. The Street. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. [Exeunt. Mer. Where the Devil fhould this Romeo be? came he not home to Night? Ben. Not to his Father's, I fpoke with his Man. Mer. Why that fame pale hard-hearted Wench, that Rofaline, torments him fo, that he will fure run mad. Ben. Tybalt, the Kinfman to old Capulet, hath fent a Letter to his Father's House. Mer. A Challenge on my Life: Ben. Romeo will anfwer it. Mer. Any Man that can write, may anfwer a Letter. Ben. Nay he will answer the Letter's Mafter how he dares, being dared. Mer. Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, ftabb'd with a white Wench's black Eye, run through the Ear with a Love-fong, the very Pin of his Heart cleft with the blind Bow-boy's but-shaft; and is he a Man to Encounter Ty balt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than Prince of Cats. Oh he's the Couragi ous Captain of Compliments; he fights as you fing prickfongs, keeps time, diftance, and proportion; he refts his minum, one, two, and the third in your Bofom; the very Butcher of a filk Button, a Duellift, a Duellift; a Gentleman of the very first House of the first and fecond Caufe; Ah the immortal Paffado, the Punto reverfo, the Hay Ben. The what? Mer. The Pox of fuch antique lifping affecting Phantafies, these new turners of Accent Jefu, a very good blade, |