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i Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans ! strike ! beat And makes himself an artificial night :
Being vex’d, a sea nourish'd with loving tears : them down ! Black and portentous must this humour prove,
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
[Going. Enter CAPULET, in his gown; and LADY CAPULET. MON. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. Ben.
Soft, I will go along; CAP. What noise is this ?—Give me my long sword, Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. ho!
Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends : Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; LA. CAP. A crutch, a crutch !-why call you for a But he, his own affections' counsellor,
This is not Romeo, he's some otherwhere.
BEN. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? CAP. My sword, I say !-Old Montague is come, But to himself so secret and so close,
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? And flourishes his blade in spite of me. So far from sounding and discovery,
Groan? why, no;
But sadly tell me, who.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: Mon. Thou villain, Capulet, -Hold me not, let Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill ! Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. LA. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a We would as willingly give cure, as know.
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. foe.
Rom. A right good mark-man –And she's fair I Enter ROMEO, at a distance.
love. Enter PRINCE with Attendants.
Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; BEN. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss ; she 'll not be hit Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,
MON. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; Will they not hear?—what ho! you men, you beasts, – To hear true shrift.—Come, madam, let 's away. And, in strong proof of chastity well arm’d, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
[Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady. From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
BEN. Good morrow, cousin.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms, On pain of torture from those bloody hands
Is the day so young ?
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground, BEN. But new struck nine.
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold; And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Ay me ! sad hours seem long. O, she is rich in beauty; only poor,
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
BEN. It was. – What sadness lengthens Romeo's Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets ;
chaste ? And made Verona's ancient citizens
Rom. She hath, and in that sparing Cast by their grave beseeming orna
makes huge waste;
For beauty, starv'd with her severity, To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity, Canker'd with peace, to part your can
She is too fair, too wise; wisely too ker'd hate.
fair, If ever you disturb our streets again,
To merit bliss by making me despair : Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the
She hath forsworn to love; and, in that peace. For this time, all the rest depart away:
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. You, Capulet, shall go along with me,
Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think And, Montague, come you this after
ROM. O, teach me how I should forTo know our farther pleasure in this
get to think, case,
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine To old Free-town, our common judg
eyes ; ment-place.
Examine other beauties. Once more, on pain of death, all men
'Tis the way depart.
To call hers, exquisite, in question (Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Ty.
These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' BALT, Citizens, and Servants. MON. Who set this ancient quarrel
Being black, put us in mind they hide new abroach?
the fair; Speak, nephew, were you by, when it
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forbegan ?
get BEN. Here were the servants of your
The precious treasure of his eyesight
lost : And yours, close fighting ere I did ap
Show me a mistress that is passing fair, proach :
What doth her beauty serve, but as a I drew to part them; in the instant
note, Do you bite your thumb at us, sir !
Where I may read, who pass'd that The fiery Tybalt, with his sword pre
passing fair? par'd ;
Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them | Farewell, thou canst not teach me to forget. Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
BEN. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. He swung about his head, and cut the winds, BEN. In love?
[Exeunt. Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:
Ben. Of love?
SCENE II.-A Street.
BEN. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, LA. MON. O, where is Romeo !-saw you him to- Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and SERVANT. day?
Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, CAP. But Montague is bound as well as I,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will ! In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
PAR. Of honourable reckoning are you both, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love :- And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
CAP. But saying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world, Towards him I made ; but he was 'ware of me, Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years And stole into the covert of the wood;
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Pursued my humour, not pursuing his, Dost thou not laugh ?
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
No, coz, I rather weep. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, Rom. Good heart, at what ?
She is the hopeful lady of my earth : With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
At thy good heart's oppression. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part ;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown, This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Away from light steals home my heavy son,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Whereto I have invited many a guest, And private in his chamber pens himself,
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Such as I love; and you, among the store, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
One more, most welcome, makes my nunber more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
-at twelve year Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:
should they come ?
old, Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel,
I bad her come.—What, lamb ! what, lady-bird ! When well-apparell’d April on the heel
Rom. Whither to supper?
God forbid !-where 's this girl ?:—what, Juliet !
Serv. To our house.
Serv. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. JUL. How now, who calls ?
Madam, I am here. be not of the house of Montagues, What is your will? I pray, come and crush a cup of LA. CAP. This is the matter :-Nurse, give leave wine: rest you merry.
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-
She's not fourteen : how long is it now
LA. CAP. A fortnight, and odd days. .
Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan Rom. When the devout religion and she,-God rest all Christian souls !-were of an of mine eye
age :-Well, Susan is with God; she was too good for Maintains such falsehood, then me : but, as I said, on Lammas-eve at night shall she turn tears to fires !
be fourteen ; that shall she ; marry, I remember it And these,—who, often drown'd, - well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years ; could never die,
and she was wean'd, -I never shall forget it,-of all Transparent heretics, be burnt for the days of the year, upon that day: for I had then liars!
laid wormwood to my dug, sitting in the sun under the One fairer than my love ! the all- dove-house wall. My lord and you were then at seeing sun
Mantua :-nay, I do bear a brain :—but, as I said, Ne'er saw her match, since first the when it did taste the wormwood on the nipple of my world begun.
dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! to see it tetchy, and Ben. Tut ! you saw her fair, none fall out with the dug.Shake, quoth the dove-house : else being by,
'twas no need, I trow, to bid me trudge. And since Herself pois’d with herself in either that time it is eleven years, for then she could stand eye:
alone ; nay, by the rood, she could have run and But in that crystal scales, let there waddled all about. For even the day before, she be weigh'd
broke her brow: and then my husband-God be with Your lady's love against some other his soul ! 'a was a merry man;—took up the child ; maid
Vea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt Can never find what names the writing person here hath writ.
That I will show you, shining at this fall backward when thou hast more wit; wilt thou not, feast,
Jule ? and, by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch left
And she shall scant show well, that crying, and said — Ay: to see now, how a jest shall May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
now shows best.
come about ! I warrant, an I should live a thousand Come, go with me.-Go, sirrah, [to Serv.] trudge about Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, years, I never should forget it ; wilt thou not, Jule? Through fair Verona; find those persons out, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt. i quoth he: and, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay. Whose names are written there, [gives a paper] and
to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
(Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned :-In good time
Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO.
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
For your broken shin.
in prison, kept without my food,
SERV. God ye good den.- I pray, sir, can you read?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language.
[Reads. SIGNIOR MARTINO, and his wife, and daughter; COUNTY ANSELME, and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of VITRUVIO ; SIGNIOR PLACENTIO, and his
Nukse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, as all the world-why, he's a man of wax. lovely nieces; MERCUTIO, and his brother VALENTINE; mine uncle CAPULET, his wife, and daughters; my
SCENE III.-A Room in Capulet's House.
LA. CAP. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy fair niece ROSALINE; LIVIA; SIGNIOR VALENTIO,
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.
peace. and his cousin TYBALT; Lucio, and the lively LA. CAP. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her NURSE. Yes, madam ; yet I cannot choose but HELENA.
forth to me.
To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay: Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
And so did I.
Rom. Well, what was yours?
That dreamers often lie. Yea, quoth my husband, fallost upon thy face? But, let them measure us by what they will,
Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age ; We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
MER. O then, I see queen Mab hath been with you. Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-Ay. Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this amb. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes JUL. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone NURSE. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
On the fore-finger of an alderman, grace!
Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Drawn with a team of little atomies
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her collars, of the moonshine's wat’ry beams : How stands your disposition to be married ?
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film : Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, NURSE. An honour ! were not I thine only nurse, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe ;
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers. Are made already mothers : by my count,
Too rude, too boist'rous ; and it pricks like thorn. And in this state she gallops night by night I was your mother much upon these years
Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief ;
: On courtiers' knees, that dream on court’sies straight : The valiant Paris seeks you for
O'er lawyers' fingers, who his love.
straight dream on fees : NURSE. A man, young lady !
O’er ladies' lips, who straight lady, such a man,
on kisses dream; As all the world—why, he's a
Which ost the angry Mab with man of wax.
blisters plagues, LA. CAP. Verona's summer
Because their breaths with hath not such a flower.
sweet-meats tainted are. NURSE. Nay, he's a flower ;
Sometime she gallops o'er a in faith, a very flower.
courtier's nose, LA. CAP. What say you ? can
And then dreams he of smellyou love the gentleman?
ing out a suit : This night you shall behold him
And sometime comes she with at our feast :
a tithe-pig's tail, Read o'er the volume of young
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a Paris' face,
lies asleep, And find delight writ there with
Then dreams he of another beauty's pen;
benefice: Examine every married linea
Sometime she driveth o'er a ment,
soldier's neck, And see how one another lends
And then dreams he of cutting content ;
foreign throats, And what obscur'd in this fair
of breaches, ambuscadoes, volume lies,
Spanish blades, Find written in the margent of
Of healths five fathom deep;
and then anon This precious book of love, this
Drums in his ear; at which he unbound lover,
starts, and wakes; To beautify him, only lacks a
And, being thus frighted, swears
a prayer or two, The fish lives in the sea ; and
And sleeps again. This is that 'tis much pride,
very Mab, For fair without, the fair within
That plats the manes of horses to hide :
in the night; That book in many's eyes doth
And bakes the elf-locks in foul share the glory,
sluttish hairs, That in gold clasps locks in the
Which, once untangled, much golden story ;
misfortune bodes. So shall you share all that he
This is the hag, when maids lie
on their backs, By having him, making yourGive me a case to put my visage in.
That presses them, and learns self no less.
them first to bear, Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger ; women grow by Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. - Making them women of good carriage. Give me a case to put my visage in ;
This is sheLA. CAP. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love ?
(Putting on a mask.
Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Jul. I 'll look to like, if looking liking move : A visor for a visor! what care I,
Thou talk'st of nothing.
True, I talk of dreams;
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
Rom. A torch for me ; let wantons, light of heart, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north, curs'd in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase, —
And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, must hence to wait ; I beseech you, follow straight. I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. LA. CAP. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our. NURSE. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. Mer. Tut ! dun's the mouse, the constable's own
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
ROM. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives,
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
Rom. Nay, that 's not so.
With this night's revels; and expire the term Mer. six other Maskers, and Torch-bearers.
I mean, sir, in delay
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course, excuse? Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.
Direct my sail !-On, lusty gentlemen. Or shall we on without apology?
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;
BEN. Strike, drum.
[Excunt. Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:
But 'tis no wit to go. We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Why, may one ask ?
Now, by the stock and honour of my
kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. I CAP. Why, how now, kinsman?
wherefore storm you so ? Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our
SCENEV.-A Hall in Capulet's House.
I SERV. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a tren. cher ! he scrape a trencher!
2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.
i Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate : good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!
2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.
I SERv. You are look'd for, and call'd for, ask'd for, and sought for, in the great chamber.
2 SERV. We cannot be here and there too. — Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
[They retire behind. Enter CAPULET, &c., with the Guests,
and the Maskers. I CAP. Welcome, gentlemen ! ladies,
that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout
with you: Ah ha, my mistresses ! which of you all Will now deny to dance ? she that
near ye now?
gone, 'tis gone:
musicians, play. A hall! a hall! give room, and foot
Music plays, and they dance. More light, you knaves, and turn the
tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown
too hot.Ah, sirrah, this unlooked
for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good
cousin Capulet, For you and I are past
our dancing days: How long is 't now, since
last yourself and I Were in a mask? 2 CAP. By 'r lady,
thirty years. 1 CAP. What, man? 'tis
not so much; 'tis not
as it will,
years; and then we
mask'd. 2 CAP. 'Tis more, 'tis
more, his son is elder, His son is thirty I CAP. Will you tell
me that? His son was but a ward
two years ago. Rom. What lady's that
which doth enrich the
Serv. I know not, si".
the torches to burn
bright! It seems she hangs upon
the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear : Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I 'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much.
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
i Cap. Young Romeo is 't ?
town, Here in my house, do him dispatage
ment : Therefore be patient, take no note of
him, It is my will ; the which if thou re
spect, Show a fair presence, and put off these
He shall be endur'd;
-go to; Am I the master here, or you? go to. You 'll not endure him!—God shall
mend my soul -You 'll make a mutiny among my
guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! you 'll be
the man ! Ne
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
Go to, go to,
I know what.
cox ; go : Be quiet, or—more light,
more light: for
shame! I'll make you quiet ;
what !-cheerly, my
hearts. Tyb. Patience perforce,
with wilful choler
meeting, Makes my flesh tremble
in their different
greeting. I will withdraw : but this
intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.
[Exit. Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand
[TO Juliet. This holy shrine, the
gentle sin is this, My lips, two blushing
pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough
touch with a tender
kiss. 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
ROM. Have not saints
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
What's he, that now is going out of door? Did my heart love till now? forswear it, night! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
TYB. This, by his voice, should be a Montague':Fetch me my rapier, boy:-what! dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antick face, To Aeer and scorn at our solemnity?
Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:- JUL.
A rhyme I learn'd even now Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd. More torches here !come on, then let 's to bed. of one I danc'd withal. (Kissing her. Ah, sirrah, (to 2 CAP.] by my fay, it waxes late;
[One calls within, JULIET. Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. I'll to my rest.
Anon, anon: Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd !
[Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse. Come, let 's away; the strangers all are gone. Give me my sin again. Jul.. Come hither, nurse : what is yon gentle
(Exeunt. JUL. You kiss by the book. man?
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
Marry, bachelor, Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. And young affection gapes to be his heir ; Her mother is the lady of the house,
Jul. What 's he, that follows there, that would | That fair, for which love groan'd for, and would die, And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous :
not dance ?
With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
NURSE. I know not.
Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her,
Jul. Go, ask his name:-if he be married,
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;
But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
Being held a foe, he may not have access
To meet her new-beloved any where:
But passion lends them.power, time means to meet, Is it e'en so? why, then I thank you all;
NURSE. What 's this? what's this?
Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. (Exit.
Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
[Aside. Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. Who is already sick and pale with grief,
Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; [He climbs the wall, and leaps
Thou art thyself, though not a Mondown within it.
tague. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.
What's Montague? it is nor hand,
nor foot, Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo !
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Romeo !
Belonging to a man. O, be some Mer. He is wise ;
other name! And, on my life, hath stol'n him home
What's in a name? that which we to bed.
call a rose, Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd
By any other word would smell as this orchard wall:
sweet ; Call, good Mercutio.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo MER. Nay, I 'll conjure too.
callid, Romeo! humours ! madman! passion !
Retain that dear perfection which he lover!
owes, Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Without that title:-Romeo, doff thy Speak but one rhyme, and I am satis.
And for that name which is no part Cry but —Ah me! pronounce but love
of thee, and dove, (word,
Take all myself. Speak to my gossip Venus one fair
I take thee at thy One nick-name for her purblind son
word: and heir,
Call me but love, and I'll be new Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot
baptis'd; so trim, [maid.
Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Whenking Cophetua lov'd the beggar
JUL. What man art thou, that, He heareth not, he stirreth not, he
thus bescreen'd in night, moveth not; He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall.
So stumblest on my counsel ? The apeis dead, and I must conjure him.
By a name I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she: I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
JUL. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. O, that she knew she were !
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Mer. This cannot anger him: t'would anger him She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
Rom. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. Of some strange nature, letting it there stand I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Jul. How cam’st thou hither, tell me? and whereTill she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
fóre? That were some spite: my invocation Having some business, do intreat her eyes
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
And the place death, considering who thou art, I conjure only but to raise up him.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? If any of my kinsmen find thee here. BEN. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these To be consorted with the humorous night: As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
walls, Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Would through the airy region stream so bright, For stony limits cannot hold love out:
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. — That I might touch that cheek!
Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Oh Romeo that she were, oh that she were,
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, An open et cætera, thou, a poprin pear !
She speaks :— And I am proof against their enmity. Romeo, good night ;-I 'll to my truckle-bedt; O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art
Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their Come, shall we go? As is a winged messenger of heaven
eyes, BEN. Go, then, for 'tis in vain Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
And, but thou love me, let them find me here: To seek him here, that means not to be found. [Excunt. Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whose direction found’st thou out this
Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire; Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. - Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. [Juliet appears above at a window. l Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
I am no pilot, yet, wert thou as far