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i Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans ! strike ! beat And makes himself an artificial night :

Being vex’d, a sea nourish'd with loving tears : them down ! Black and portentous must this humour prove,

What is it else? a madness most discreet,
Down with the Capulets ! down with the Montagues ! Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Farewell, my coz !

[Going. Enter CAPULET, in his gown; and LADY CAPULET. MON. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. Ben.

Soft, I will go along; CAP. What noise is this ?—Give me my long sword, Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. ho!

Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends : Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; LA. CAP. A crutch, a crutch !-why call you for a But he, his own affections' counsellor,

This is not Romeo, he's some otherwhere.
sword ?
Is to himself—I will not say, how true-

BEN. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? CAP. My sword, I say !-Old Montague is come, But to himself so secret and so close,

Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? And flourishes his blade in spite of me. So far from sounding and discovery,


Groan? why, no;
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,

But sadly tell me, who.
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: Mon. Thou villain, Capulet, -Hold me not, let Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill ! Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. LA. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. foe.

Rom. A right good mark-man –And she's fair I Enter ROMEO, at a distance.

love. Enter PRINCE with Attendants.

Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; BEN. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss ; she 'll not be hit Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,

MON. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; Will they not hear?—what ho! you men, you beasts, – To hear true shrift.—Come, madam, let 's away. And, in strong proof of chastity well arm’d, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

[Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady. From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. With purple fountains issuing from your veins,

BEN. Good morrow, cousin.

She will not stay the siege of loving terms, On pain of torture from those bloody hands


Is the day so young ?

Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground, BEN. But new struck nine.

Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold; And hear the sentence of your moved prince.


Ay me ! sad hours seem long. O, she is rich in beauty; only poor,
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
Was that my father that went hence so fast ?

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

BEN. It was. – What sadness lengthens Romeo's Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets ;

hours ?

chaste ? And made Verona's ancient citizens

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing Cast by their grave beseeming orna

makes huge waste;

For beauty, starv'd with her severity, To wield old partizans, in hands as old,

Cuts beauty off from all posterity, Canker'd with peace, to part your can

She is too fair, too wise; wisely too ker'd hate.

fair, If ever you disturb our streets again,

To merit bliss by making me despair : Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the

She hath forsworn to love; and, in that peace. For this time, all the rest depart away:

Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. You, Capulet, shall go along with me,

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think And, Montague, come you this after

of her.

ROM. O, teach me how I should forTo know our farther pleasure in this

get to think, case,

Ben. By giving liberty unto thine To old Free-town, our common judg

eyes ; ment-place.

Examine other beauties. Once more, on pain of death, all men


'Tis the way depart.

To call hers, exquisite, in question (Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Ty.

These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' BALT, Citizens, and Servants. MON. Who set this ancient quarrel

Being black, put us in mind they hide new abroach?

the fair; Speak, nephew, were you by, when it

He, that is strucken blind, cannot forbegan ?

get BEN. Here were the servants of your

The precious treasure of his eyesight

lost : And yours, close fighting ere I did ap

Show me a mistress that is passing fair, proach :

What doth her beauty serve, but as a I drew to part them; in the instant

note, Do you bite your thumb at us, sir !

Where I may read, who pass'd that The fiery Tybalt, with his sword pre

passing fair? par'd ;

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them | Farewell, thou canst not teach me to forget. Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,


BEN. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. He swung about his head, and cut the winds, BEN. In love?

[Exeunt. Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:

ROM. Out-
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,

Ben. Of love?
Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love,

SCENE II.-A Street.
Till the prince came, who parted either part.

BEN. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, LA. MON. O, where is Romeo !-saw you him to- Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!


Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, CAP. But Montague is bound as well as I,
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.

Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will ! In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
BEN. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Where shall we dine ?- me !-What fray was here? For men so old as we to keep the peace.
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

PAR. Of honourable reckoning are you both, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;

Here's much to do with hate, but more with love :- And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore,
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!

But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
That westward rooteth from this city's side,-
O anything, of nothing first created ;

CAP. But saying o'er what I have said before:
So early walking did I see your son:
O heavy lightness ! serious vanity!

My child is yet a stranger in the world, Towards him I made ; but he was 'ware of me, Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

She hath not seen the change of fourteen years And stole into the covert of the wood;

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Let two more summers wither in their pride,
I, measuring his affections by my own, —
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is !

Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
That most are busied when they are most alone, This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Pursued my humour, not pursuing his, Dost thou not laugh ?

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.


No, coz, I rather weep. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, Rom. Good heart, at what ?

She is the hopeful lady of my earth : With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,


At thy good heart's oppression. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. -

My will to her consent is but a part ;
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

An she agree, within her scope of choice
Should in the farthest east begin to draw
Which thou wilt propagate to have it prest

Lies my consent and fair according voice.
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,

With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown, This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Away from light steals home my heavy son,

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Whereto I have invited many a guest, And private in his chamber pens himself,

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Such as I love; and you, among the store, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;

One more, most welcome, makes my nunber more.


more :


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At my poor house, look to behold this night
A fair assembly; [Gives back the note). Whither Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head, -

-at twelve year Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:

should they come ?

old, Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel,


I bad her come.—What, lamb ! what, lady-bird ! When well-apparell’d April on the heel

Rom. Whither to supper?

God forbid !-where 's this girl ?:—what, Juliet !
Of limping winter treads, even such delight

Serv. To our house.
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Rom. Whose house?

Enter Juliet.
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,

Serv. My master's.
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:

Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. JUL. How now, who calls ?
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master NURSE.

Your mother.
is the great rich Capulet; and if you JUL.

Madam, I am here. be not of the house of Montagues, What is your will? I pray, come and crush a cup of LA. CAP. This is the matter :-Nurse, give leave wine: rest you merry.


Ben. At this same ancient feast We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again ;
of Capulet's

I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou | Thou knowest, my daughter 's of a pretty age.
so lov'st;

Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
With all the admired beauties of LA. CAP. She's not fourteen.


I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-
Go thither; and, with unattainted | And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,-

She's not fourteen : how long is it now
Compare her face with some that I To Lammas-tide ?
shall show,

LA. CAP. A fortnight, and odd days. .
And I will make thee think thy swan Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, come
a crow.

Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan Rom. When the devout religion and she,-God rest all Christian souls !-were of an of mine eye

age :-Well, Susan is with God; she was too good for Maintains such falsehood, then me : but, as I said, on Lammas-eve at night shall she turn tears to fires !

be fourteen ; that shall she ; marry, I remember it And these,—who, often drown'd, - well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years ; could never die,

and she was wean'd, -I never shall forget it,-of all Transparent heretics, be burnt for the days of the year, upon that day: for I had then liars!

laid wormwood to my dug, sitting in the sun under the One fairer than my love ! the all- dove-house wall. My lord and you were then at seeing sun

Mantua :-nay, I do bear a brain :—but, as I said, Ne'er saw her match, since first the when it did taste the wormwood on the nipple of my world begun.

dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! to see it tetchy, and Ben. Tut ! you saw her fair, none fall out with the dug.Shake, quoth the dove-house : else being by,

'twas no need, I trow, to bid me trudge. And since Herself pois’d with herself in either that time it is eleven years, for then she could stand eye:

alone ; nay, by the rood, she could have run and But in that crystal scales, let there waddled all about. For even the day before, she be weigh'd

broke her brow: and then my husband-God be with Your lady's love against some other his soul ! 'a was a merry man;—took up the child ; maid

Vea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt Can never find what names the writing person here hath writ.

That I will show you, shining at this fall backward when thou hast more wit; wilt thou not, feast,

Jule ? and, by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch left

And she shall scant show well, that crying, and said — Ay: to see now, how a jest shall May stand in number, though in reckoning none.

now shows best.

come about ! I warrant, an I should live a thousand Come, go with me.-Go, sirrah, [to Serv.] trudge about Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, years, I never should forget it ; wilt thou not, Jule? Through fair Verona; find those persons out, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt. i quoth he: and, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay. Whose names are written there, [gives a paper] and

to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

(Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned :-In good time

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning,

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;

One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
Ben. For what, I pray thee?

For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is:


in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd, and tormented, and-God den, good fellow.

SERV. God ye good den.- I pray, sir, can you read?
Rom. Ay, naine own fortune in my misery.
Serv. Perhaps you have learn’d it without book :
But I pray, can you read any thing you see?

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language.
Serv. Ye say honestly; rest you merry!
Rom. Stay, sellow; I can read.

[Reads. SIGNIOR MARTINO, and his wife, and daughter; COUNTY ANSELME, and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of VITRUVIO ; SIGNIOR PLACENTIO, and his

Nukse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, as all the world-why, he's a man of wax. lovely nieces; MERCUTIO, and his brother VALENTINE; mine uncle CAPULET, his wife, and daughters; my

SCENE III.-A Room in Capulet's House.

LA. CAP. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy fair niece ROSALINE; LIVIA; SIGNIOR VALENTIO,

Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.

peace. and his cousin TYBALT; Lucio, and the lively LA. CAP. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her NURSE. Yes, madam ; yet I cannot choose but HELENA.


forth to me.



than you,



To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay: Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
And yet, I warrant, it had upon it brow
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper ;


And so did I.
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke

Rom. Well, what was yours?
A par'lous knock; and it cried bitterly.
After the prompter, for our entrance ;


That dreamers often lie. Yea, quoth my husband, fallost upon thy face? But, let them measure us by what they will,

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age ; We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

MER. O then, I see queen Mab hath been with you. Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-Ay. Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this amb. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes JUL. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.


In shape no bigger than an agate-stone NURSE. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

On the fore-finger of an alderman, grace!

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Drawn with a team of little atomies
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursd : Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing shoes, Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
An I might live to see thee married once,
With nimble soles : I have a soul of lead,

Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
I have my wish.
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
LA. CÁP. Marry, that marry is the very theme Mer. You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's wings, Her traces, of the smallest spider's web;
I came to talk of: tell me, daughter Juliet,
And soar with them above a common bound.

Her collars, of the moonshine's wat’ry beams : How stands your disposition to be married ?

Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film : Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, NURSE. An honour ! were not I thine only nurse, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe ;

Not half so big as a round little worm
I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :
LA. CAP. Well, think of marriage now; younger Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers. Are made already mothers : by my count,

Too rude, too boist'rous ; and it pricks like thorn. And in this state she gallops night by night I was your mother much upon these years

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief ;


: On courtiers' knees, that dream on court’sies straight : The valiant Paris seeks you for

O'er lawyers' fingers, who his love.

straight dream on fees : NURSE. A man, young lady !

O’er ladies' lips, who straight lady, such a man,

on kisses dream; As all the world—why, he's a

Which ost the angry Mab with man of wax.

blisters plagues, LA. CAP. Verona's summer

Because their breaths with hath not such a flower.

sweet-meats tainted are. NURSE. Nay, he's a flower ;

Sometime she gallops o'er a in faith, a very flower.

courtier's nose, LA. CAP. What say you ? can

And then dreams he of smellyou love the gentleman?

ing out a suit : This night you shall behold him

And sometime comes she with at our feast :

a tithe-pig's tail, Read o'er the volume of young

Tickling a parson's nose as 'a Paris' face,

lies asleep, And find delight writ there with

Then dreams he of another beauty's pen;

benefice: Examine every married linea

Sometime she driveth o'er a ment,

soldier's neck, And see how one another lends

And then dreams he of cutting content ;

foreign throats, And what obscur'd in this fair

of breaches, ambuscadoes, volume lies,

Spanish blades, Find written in the margent of

Of healths five fathom deep;

and then anon This precious book of love, this

Drums in his ear; at which he unbound lover,

starts, and wakes; To beautify him, only lacks a

And, being thus frighted, swears

a prayer or two, The fish lives in the sea ; and

And sleeps again. This is that 'tis much pride,

very Mab, For fair without, the fair within

That plats the manes of horses to hide :

in the night; That book in many's eyes doth

And bakes the elf-locks in foul share the glory,

sluttish hairs, That in gold clasps locks in the

Which, once untangled, much golden story ;

misfortune bodes. So shall you share all that he

This is the hag, when maids lie

on their backs, By having him, making yourGive me a case to put my visage in.

That presses them, and learns self no less.

them first to bear, Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger ; women grow by Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. - Making them women of good carriage. Give me a case to put my visage in ;

This is sheLA. CAP. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love ?

(Putting on a mask.

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Jul. I 'll look to like, if looking liking move : A visor for a visor! what care I,

Thou talk'st of nothing.
But no more deep will I endart mine eye,
What curious eye doth quote deformities?


True, I talk of dreams;
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.

Which are the children of an idle brain,
Enter a Servant.

Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;
But every man betake him to his legs.

Which is as thin of substance as the air,
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served
up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;

Rom. A torch for me ; let wantons, light of heart, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes

Even now the frozen bosom of the north, curs'd in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase, —

And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, must hence to wait ; I beseech you, follow straight. I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,

Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. LA. CAP. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our. NURSE. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. Mer. Tut ! dun's the mouse, the constable's own


Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
If thou art dun, we 'll draw thee from the mire,

ROM. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives,
Or (save your reverence) love, wherein thou stick’st

Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
SCENE IV.--A Street.
Up to the ears : come, we burn day-light, ho.

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
Enter Romeo, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or

Rom. Nay, that 's not so.

With this night's revels; and expire the term Mer. six other Maskers, and Torch-bearers.

I mean, sir, in delay

Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.

By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits

But He, that hath the steerage of my course, excuse? Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.

Direct my sail !-On, lusty gentlemen. Or shall we on without apology?

Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;

BEN. Strike, drum.

[Excunt. Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:

But 'tis no wit to go. We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,


Why, may one ask ?


his eyes.


doth possess,


Now, by the stock and honour of my

kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. I CAP. Why, how now, kinsman?

wherefore storm you so ? Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our




SCENEV.-A Hall in Capulet's House.
Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.

I SERV. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a tren. cher ! he scrape a trencher!

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

i Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate : good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!

2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

I SERv. You are look'd for, and call'd for, ask'd for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 SERV. We cannot be here and there too. — Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

[They retire behind. Enter CAPULET, &c., with the Guests,

and the Maskers. I CAP. Welcome, gentlemen ! ladies,

that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout

with you: Ah ha, my mistresses ! which of you all Will now deny to dance ? she that

makes dainty,
She, I 'll swear, hath corns; am I come

near ye now?
Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen theday
That I have worn a visor, and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please;—'tis gone, 'tis

gone, 'tis gone:
You are welcome, gentlemen !--Come,

musicians, play. A hall! a hall! give room, and foot

it, girls.

Music plays, and they dance. More light, you knaves, and turn the

tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown

too hot.Ah, sirrah, this unlooked

for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good

cousin Capulet, For you and I are past

our dancing days: How long is 't now, since

last yourself and I Were in a mask? 2 CAP. By 'r lady,

thirty years. 1 CAP. What, man? 'tis

not so much; 'tis not

so much:
'Tis since the nuptial of

Come pentecost as quickly

as it will,
Some five and twenty

years; and then we

mask'd. 2 CAP. 'Tis more, 'tis

more, his son is elder, His son is thirty I CAP. Will you tell

me that? His son was but a ward

two years ago. Rom. What lady's that

which doth enrich the

Of yonder knight?

Serv. I know not, si".
Rom. O, she doth teach

the torches to burn

bright! It seems she hangs upon

the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear : Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I 'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.


Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much.

A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

i Cap. Young Romeo is 't ?
ТҮВ. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
I CAP. Content thee, gentle coz, let

him alone,
He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-governd

I would not for the wealth of all this

town, Here in my house, do him dispatage

ment : Therefore be patient, take no note of

him, It is my will ; the which if thou re

spect, Show a fair presence, and put off these

An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a

guest ;
I 'll not endure him.

He shall be endur'd;
What, goodman boy !-I say, he shall ;

-go to; Am I the master here, or you? go to. You 'll not endure him!—God shall

mend my soul -You 'll make a mutiny among my

guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! you 'll be

the man ! Ne

Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Go to, go to,
You are a saucy boy :-is 't so, indeed ?
This trick may chance to scathe you ;-

I know what.
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis

Well said, iny hearts :-you are a prin-

cox ; go : Be quiet, or—more light,

more light: for

shame! I'll make you quiet ;

what !-cheerly, my

hearts. Tyb. Patience perforce,

with wilful choler

meeting, Makes my flesh tremble

in their different

greeting. I will withdraw : but this

intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

[Exit. Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand

[TO Juliet. This holy shrine, the

gentle sin is this, My lips, two blushing

pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough

touch with a tender

kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you

do wrong your hand

too much, Which mannerly devotion

shows in this; For saints have hands

that pilgrims' hands

do touch, And palm to palm is holy

palmers' kiss.

ROM. Have not saints
lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do ;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers'




What's he, that now is going out of door? Did my heart love till now? forswear it, night! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

TYB. This, by his voice, should be a Montague':Fetch me my rapier, boy:-what! dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antick face, To Aeer and scorn at our solemnity?


Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:- JUL.

A rhyme I learn'd even now Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd. More torches here !come on, then let 's to bed. of one I danc'd withal. (Kissing her. Ah, sirrah, (to 2 CAP.] by my fay, it waxes late;

[One calls within, JULIET. Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. I'll to my rest.


Anon, anon: Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd !

[Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse. Come, let 's away; the strangers all are gone. Give me my sin again. Jul.. Come hither, nurse : what is yon gentle

(Exeunt. JUL. You kiss by the book. man?

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. NURSE. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Rom. What is her mother?

Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,

Marry, bachelor, Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. And young affection gapes to be his heir ; Her mother is the lady of the house,

Jul. What 's he, that follows there, that would | That fair, for which love groan'd for, and would die, And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous :

not dance ?

With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;

NURSE. I know not.

Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her,

Jul. Go, ask his name:-if he be married,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;
Shall have the chinks.
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
Is she a Capulet?

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
O dear account ! my life is my foe's debt.
The only son of your great enemy.

Being held a foe, he may not have access
BEN. Away, begone; the sport is at the best. JUL. My only love sprung from my only hate ! To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. Too early seen unknown, and known too late ! And she as much in love, her means much less,
i Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

To meet her new-beloved any where:
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. —
That I must love a loathed enemy:

But passion lends them.power, time means to meet, Is it e'en so? why, then I thank you all;

NURSE. What 's this? what's this?

Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. (Exit.


SCENEI.-An open place adjoining Capulet's Garden. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks !! And I 'll no longer be a Capulet.
Enter ROMEO.
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun !-

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

[Aside. Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. Who is already sick and pale with grief,

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; [He climbs the wall, and leaps

Thou art thyself, though not a Mondown within it.

tague. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

What's Montague? it is nor hand,

nor foot, Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo !

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Romeo !

Belonging to a man. O, be some Mer. He is wise ;

other name! And, on my life, hath stol'n him home

What's in a name? that which we to bed.

call a rose, Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd

By any other word would smell as this orchard wall:

sweet ; Call, good Mercutio.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo MER. Nay, I 'll conjure too.

callid, Romeo! humours ! madman! passion !

Retain that dear perfection which he lover!

owes, Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,

Without that title:-Romeo, doff thy Speak but one rhyme, and I am satis.


And for that name which is no part Cry but —Ah me! pronounce but love

of thee, and dove, (word,

Take all myself. Speak to my gossip Venus one fair


I take thee at thy One nick-name for her purblind son

word: and heir,

Call me but love, and I'll be new Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot

baptis'd; so trim, [maid.

Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Whenking Cophetua lov'd the beggar

JUL. What man art thou, that, He heareth not, he stirreth not, he

thus bescreen'd in night, moveth not; He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall.

So stumblest on my counsel ? The apeis dead, and I must conjure him.


By a name I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she: I know not how to tell thee who I am:
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
Be not her maid, since she is envious;

My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

Because it is an enemy to thee;
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. -

Had I it written, I would tear the word.
That in thy likeness thou appear to us!
It is my lady; 0, it is my love;

JUL. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. O, that she knew she were !

Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Mer. This cannot anger him: t'would anger him She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Her eye discourses, I will answer it.

Rom. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. Of some strange nature, letting it there stand I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:

Jul. How cam’st thou hither, tell me? and whereTill she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

fóre? That were some spite: my invocation Having some business, do intreat her eyes

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

And the place death, considering who thou art, I conjure only but to raise up him.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? If any of my kinsmen find thee here. BEN. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these To be consorted with the humorous night: As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven

walls, Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Would through the airy region stream so bright, For stony limits cannot hold love out:
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. That birds would sing, and think it were not night. And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Now will he sit under a medlar tree,

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. — That I might touch that cheek!

Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Oh Romeo that she were, oh that she were,


Ay me!

Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, An open et cætera, thou, a poprin pear !


She speaks :— And I am proof against their enmity. Romeo, good night ;-I 'll to my truckle-bedt; O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their Come, shall we go? As is a winged messenger of heaven

eyes, BEN. Go, then, for 'tis in vain Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes

And, but thou love me, let them find me here: To seek him here, that means not to be found. [Excunt. Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,

My life were better ended by their hate,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. By whose direction found’st thou out this
SCENE II.- Capulet's Garden.
JUL. 0Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou

Enter ROMEO.
Romeo ?

Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire; Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. - Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. [Juliet appears above at a window. l Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

I am no pilot, yet, wert thou as far



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