It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite :
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady :-0, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.
A lover may bestride the gossomers
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fail; so light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

Fri. Come, come, with me, and we will make short For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, [work; Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.

ACT 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 stirring. 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 cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need. 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. Thou! 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 nu.s, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast quarelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old rib-|

band? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-simple? O simple!

Enter TYBALT, and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tub. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. Tub. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tub. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw into some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. [gase;

Enter ROMEO.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes my

man.

Mer. But I'll be hanged sir, if he wear your livery. Marry, go before to fieiu, he 'll be your follower, Your worship in that sense, may call him-man.

Tub. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this-Thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thes Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting :-Villain am I none; Therefore, farewell; I see, thou know'st me not. Tub. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw. Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee; But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love. And so, good Capulet,-which name I tender As dearly as mine own.- be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! A la stoccata carries it away. [Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

Tub. What would'st thou have with me? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one o. four nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his picher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.

[Drawing. [They fight.

Tub. I am for you.
Rom. Gentle Mercutio. out thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio;

Beat down their weapons:-Gentlemen, for shame,
Forbear this outrage ;-Tybalt-Mercutio-
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
In Verona streets :-hold, Tybalt ;-good Mercutio
[Exeunt TYBALT and his Partizans.
Mer. I am hurt;-

A plague o' both the houses!-I am sped:
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben. What, art thou hurt?
[enougn.
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch a scratch; marry, 'tis

Come gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it; and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoyed: So tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,

Enter Nurse, with cords.

And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the That Romeo bade thee fetch ! cords, Nurse. Av, ay, the cords. [Throws them down. Jul. Ah me what news! why dost thou wring

thy hands?

Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's
We are undone, lady, we are undone !-- [dead!
Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
Jul. Can heaven be so envious?
Nurse.
Romeo can,
Though heaven cannot:- O Romeo, Romeo!—
Who ever would have thought it !--Romeo!
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I,
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice
I am not I, if there be such an I;

Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I.
If he be slain, say- I; or if not, no:
Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe.

[once!

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with inine eyes,Ged save the mark !-- here on his manly breast: A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, All in gore blood;-I swooned at the sight. Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier! Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead! Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two are gone? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. [blood? Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-eather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Jespised substance of divinest show!

-

ist opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain!O nature! what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?

1 as ever book, containing such vile matter, larly bound? O, that deceit should dwell 1.. uch a gorgeous palace!

There's no trust,

[cousin?

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it?But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousia? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; But, O! it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: Tubalt is dead, and Romeo banished. That - banished, that one word — banished, Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Was woe enough, if it had ended there: Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,Why follow'd not, when she said-Tybalt's dead, Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, Which modern lamentation might have mov'd? But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, Romeo is banished, -to speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead :-Romeo is banished,-There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.— Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse. Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears, mine shal'

be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords:-Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd:
He made you for a highway to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed;
Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
To comfort you :-I wot well where he is..
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night;
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

Jul. O find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt.

For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too;
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.—
Go, before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all the night,
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!-
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. Nose. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir: Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

[Exit Nurse. Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this? Fri. Go hence: Good night; and here stands all your state;

Fither begone before the watch be set,

Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence:
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee:
Farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV-A Room in Capulet's House. Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, and PARIS. Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter: Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I;-Well; we were born to die.'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo; Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-morTo night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.

[row;

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday nextBut, soft; What day is this? Par. Monday, my lord. Cap. Monday? ha ha! Well, Wednesday is too O' Thursday let it be ;-o' Thursday, tell her, [soon, She shall be married to this noble earl :Will you be ready? do you like this haste? We'll keep no great ado;-a friend, or two :-For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be thought we held him carelessly,

Being our kinsman, if we revel much :
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-

morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone.O' Thursday be it Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, [then :Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.Farewell, my lord.-Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me, it is so very late, that we May call it early by and by :-Good night. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Juliet's Chamber.

Enter ROMEO and JULIET.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.

Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay than will to go;-
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.—
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away; It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps. Some say, the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had chang'd voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day. O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. Rom. More light and light?-more dark and dark Enter Nurse. Nurse. Madam ! Jul. Nurse?

our woes.

scend.

[ber:

Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamThe day is broke; be wary, look about. [Er. Nurse Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll de[ROMEO descends. Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my I must hear from thee every day i' the hour, [friend! For in a minute there are many days O! by this count I shall be much in years, Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. Jul. Ŏ, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul; Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,