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I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash’d with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain fain deny
What I have spoke; But farewel compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say—Ay;
And I will take thy word; yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,
Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by ?
Jul. Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
Rom. If my heart's dear love—
Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contráct to-night: -
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say—It lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request
And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Would st thou withdraw it? for what pur-
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep ; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
[Nurse calls within.
I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu!
Anon, good nurse !—Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Erit.
Rom. O blessed blessed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite;
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
And follow thee my lord throughout the world:
Nurse. [Within..] Madam.
Jul. I come, anon:—But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee,_
Nurse. [Within..] Madam.
Jul. By and by, I come:— To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send.
Rom. So thrive my soul,—
Jul. A thousand times good night! [Erit.
Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy
Loves goes toward love, as school-boys from their books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [retiring slowly. Re-enter JULIET, above.
Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!—O, 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 musick to attending ears!
Rom. My sweet! - *
Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee?
Rom. At the hour of nine.
Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. Itom. 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 lets it hop a little from her hand, o
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.
[Erit. 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. [Erit.
Friar Laurence’s Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENce, with a basket.
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.