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' sake. ROM. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her. JUL. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. ROM. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! Give me my sin again. JUL. You kiss by the book. NURSE. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. NURSE. Marry, bachelor, And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous: O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse. JUL. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman? NURSE. The son and heir of old Tiberio. JUL. What's he, that now is going out of door? JUL. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance? JUL. Go, ask his name:-if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. NURSE. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy. JUL. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. NURSE. What 's this? What's this? Of one I danc'd withal. NURSE. A rhyme I learn'd even now [One calls within “Juliet.” Anon, anon: Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. Enter CHORUS. Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; [Exeunt. That fair, for which love groan'd for, and would die, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved anywhere: But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I.-An open Place adjoining Capulet's Garden. Enter ROMEO. ROM. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. BEN. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! MER. He is wise; And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. BEN. He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio. MER. Nay, I'll conjure too. Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied. That in thy likeness thou appear to us. BEN. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. MER. This cannot anger him: 't would anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him. BEN. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. MER. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar-tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. Romeo, good night:-I'll to my truckle-bed; Come, shall we go? BEN. Go, then; for 't is in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found. SCENE II-Capulet's Garden. Enter ROMEO. ROM. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.— [Exeunt. [JULIET appears above, at a window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.— O, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that? I am too bold, 't is not to me she speaks: That I might touch that cheek! JUL. ROM. Ah me! She speaks: O speak again, bright angel! for thou art Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes And sails upon the bosom of the air. JUL. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. ROM. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? ROM. I take thee at thy word: [Aside. JUL. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel? ROM. By a name My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Had I it written I would tear the word. JUL. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? ROм. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. JUL. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb; And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. ROM. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out: And what love can do, that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. |