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Fri.

And with a blk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, fo 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 fleep and peace, so sweet to relt! Hence will I to my ghostly Friar's close Cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. (Exit.

S CE N E III.

Changes to a Monastery.
Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.
THI
HE grey.ey'd morn smiles on the frown-

ing night,
Check'ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light:
And darkness flecker'd, like a drunkard, reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's burning wheels.
Now ere the Sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this ofier-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 fucking on her natural bosom find :
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, inickle is the powerful grace, that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.
Nor nought so vile, that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give:
Nor aught so good, but, ftrain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true Birth, stumbling on abuse.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime by action's dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath refidence, and medicine power:
For this being smelt, with that sense cheers each part:
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
* Two such opposed Kin encamp them ftill
In man, as well as herbs, Grace and rude Will:
And where the worser is predominant,
Full-foon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter Romeo.
Ron. Good-morrow, father.

Fri. Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet faluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
So foon to bid good-morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And, where care lodgeth, sleep will never lie :
But where unburised youth with unstuft brain
Dolh couch his limbs, there golden fleep doth reign.
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thou art uprous'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 waś mine.
Fri. God pardon fin ! waft thou with Rosaline?

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? no.
I have forgoi that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good fon : but where haft thou

been then?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again;
I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within ihy help and holy physic lies;

* Iwo such opposed foes- This is a modern Sophistication. The old Books have it ed- kings. So that it appears, Shakefear wrote, Two fuck opposed kin.

Harb.

I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercellion likewise steads my foe.

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

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet;
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ;
And all combin'd; fave what you 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!
In Rosaline, whom thou didft 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 washt thy fallow cheeks for Rosaline?
How much fali-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 fit
Of an old tear, that is not walh'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 mnen.

Rom. Thou chid'it me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doating, not for loving, Pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'it me bury love.

Fri. Not in a Grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee,chide not: she, whom I love now, Doch grace

for grace, and love for love allow: The other did not fo.

Fri. Oh, the knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.

But

with me,

But come, young waverer, come and go
In one respect I'll thy assistant be!
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your houshold-rancour to pure love.

Rom. O let us hence, I stand on sudden haste.
Fri. Wisely and flow; they stumble that run fait.

(Exeunt. SCENE

N E IV.

Changes to the STRE E T.

Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. Mer. THERE the devil should this Romeo be?

came he not home to-night? Ben. Not to his father's, I spoke with his man.

Mer. Why, that same pale, hard-hearted, wench, that Rosaline, torments him so, that he will, sure, run mad.

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to 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 dar'd.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabb'd with a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with a love-fong; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow.boy's but-taft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats? Oh, he's the courageous captain of compliments ; he fights as you sing prick-fongs, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests his minum, one, two, and the third in your bolom; the very butcher of a flk button, a duellift, a duellift; a gentleman of the very first house, of

the

the first and second cause; ah, the immortal passado, the punto reverso, the, hay!

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affe&ed phantasies, these new tuners of accents:-

---Jesu! .a very good blade! -a very tall man!

a very good whore! Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandfire! that we should be thus afflicted with these ftrange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnezmoy's, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot fit at ease on the old bench? O, their bon's, their bon's!

Enter Romeo.
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roc, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fshified ? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura ito his lady was but a kitchin-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 fo: But now to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bonjour ; there's a French falutation to your French Slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Rom. Good-morrow to you Both: What counterfeit did I give you ?

Men. The flip, Sir, the slip: can you not conceive ?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great ; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.

Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning, to curt'ly. Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit'it. Rom. A most courteous exposition. * Thisbe a grey Eye or so, but not to the Purpose..] We should read and point it thus,

Thisbe a grey Eye or fo:. But now to the Purpose. Vol. “IX.

H

Mer.

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