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 lets it hop a little from her hand,

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say-good night, till it be morrow.

[Exit.

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy

breast!

Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

SCENE III.

Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket.

[Exit.

Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked' darkness like a drunkard reels

From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels:
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours,
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb:
And from her womb children of divers kind

We sucking on her natural bosom find;
Many for many virtues excellent,

None but for some,

O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies

In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power.

For this, being smelt, with that part' cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.

Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
And, where the worser is predominant,

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Good morrow, father!

Fri.

Benedicite!

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?—
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,

Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp❜rature;

Or if not so, then here I hit it right—

Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.

powerful grace,] Efficacious virtue.

with that part-] i. e. With the part which smells; with the olfac tory nerves.-MALONE.

I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physick lies:
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:

As mine on her's, so her's is set on mine;

And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy shallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;

And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then-
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

Rom. And bad'st me bury love.

Fri.

To lay one in, another out to have.

Not in a grave,

Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love now, Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;

The other did not so.

Fri.

O, she knew well,

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;

For this alliance may so happy prove,

To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste."
Fri. Wisely, and slow; They stumble, that run fast.

SCENE IV.

A Street.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?

Came he not home to-night?

Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

[Exeunt.

Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Ro

saline,

Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft;" And is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats," I can tell you. O, he

I stand on sudden haste.] i. e. It is of the utmost consequence for me to be hasty. STEEVENS.

the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft ;] The allusion is to archery. The clout or white mark at which the arrows are directed, was fastened by a black pin placed in the center of it. To hit this was the highest ambition of every marksman.—MALONE.

More than prince of cats,] Tybert, the name given to the cat, in the storybook of Reynard the Fox.-WARBURTON.

is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a gentleman of the very first house,-of the first and second cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay!"

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents!-By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man!—a very good whore !-Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moys,' who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O their bons, their bons!

Enter ROMEO.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roe," like a dried herring :-O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!-Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench;-marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French

P

captain of compliments.] i. e. A complete master of all the laws of ceremony, the principal man in the doctrine of punctilio.-JOHNSON.

qa a gentleman of the very first house,-of the first and second cause:] i. e. A gentleman of the first rank, of the first eminence among these duellists; and will tell you of the first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to fight. The clown in As you like it, talks of the seventh cause in the same sense.STEEVENS.

r—

the hay!] All the terms of the modern fencing-school were originally Italian; the rapier, or small thrusting-sword, being first used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you have it, used when a thrust reaches the antagonist, from which our fencers, on the same occasion, without knowing, I suppose, any reason for it, cry out ha!-JOHNSON.

8

pardonnez-moys,] Such was the expression of doubt or hesitation among men of the sword, when the point of honour was grown so delicate, that no other mode of contradiction would be endured.-JOHNSON.

t — new form—old bench?] The conceit is lost, if the double meaning of th cord form be not attended to.-FARMER.

u Without his roe,] i. e. He comes but the half of himself: he is only a sigh -O me! i. e. me O! the half of his name.-SEYMOUR.