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By and by, I come:

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.

So thrive my soul.
Jul. A thousand times good night! [Exit.
Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy

light.Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their

books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

[Retiring slowly Re-enter JULIET, above. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, 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!

Jul. Romeo!

My sweet!

At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?

At 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 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 let's it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,t
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird.
* The male of the goshawk. + Fetter.


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Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night' parting is such sweet sorThat I shall say-good night, till it be morrow. [row,

Love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over low’ring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion' doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.

O, 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 fall; so light is vanity.


Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a wagoner
As Phæton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately. -
Spread thy close curtain, love performing night!
That run-a

n-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen -
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night.

SCENE.--Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.
Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.

* The long white filament which Aies in the air.

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say-death: For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death: do not say-banishment.

Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished Be patient: for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, bell itself. Hence banished, is banished from the world, And world's exile is death:-then banishment Is death mis-term’d: calling death-banishment, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe, And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment: This is dear mercy and thou see'st it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog, And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven, and may look on her, But Romeo may not.—More validity, * More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies, than Romeo; they may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, And steal immortal blessing from her lips; Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; he is banished: Flies may do this, when I from this must fly; They are free men, but I am banished. And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But-banished-to kill me; banished? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professid,

• Worth, value



To mangle me with that word-banishment?

Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a word Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished? -Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom;
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.

Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no cars.
Rom. How should they, when that wise men have

no eyes?
Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

Ron. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, [feel: An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy And fall upon the ground, as I do now, (hair, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.


SCENE. JULIET's Chamber.
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:
2 werefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.

tlom. Let ině 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 heav'n so high above our heads:
I have more caref 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.


JULIET'S RESOLUTION. O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears. Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O’er cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me

tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain’d wife to my sweet love. JULIET'S SOLILOQUY ON DRINKING THE OPIATE.

Farewell !-God knows, when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes


the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me;-
Nurse!- What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.--
Come, phial.-
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Must I of force be married to the county?
No, no;—this shall forbid it:--lie thou there.-

[Laying down a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly bath minister'd to have me dead;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,

• Reflection of the moon. + Inclination.

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