.

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
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 face
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 farewell 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 overheard'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 youder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all the fruit-tree tops-

Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant

moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Rom. What shall I swear by?

Do not swear at all,

Jul.
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 in this contract of 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 sunimer'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 mine.

Jul I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

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.

Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

[Exit.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed.

If that thy bentt 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 feet 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!

[Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy

light.

Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their

books;

But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly

Re-enter JULIET, above.

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, 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 music to attending ears!

Jul. Romeo!
Rom. My sweet!

Jul.

Shall I send to thee?

Rom.

At what o'clock to-morrow

At the hour of nine.

Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then, I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. 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 let's 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.

The male of the goshawk.

† Fetters.

Sweet, so would I:

Jul. Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night' parting is such sweet sorThat I shall say-good night, till it be morrow. [row,

LOVE'S HERALDS.

Love's heralds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over low’ring hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

VIOLENT DELIGHTS NOT LASTING.

These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.

LOVERS LIGHT OF FOOT.

O, so light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossomers*
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

ACT III.

A LOVER'S IMPATIENCE.

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a wagoner
As Phaton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.-
Spread thy close curtain, love performing night!
That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!-
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night.

ROMEO ON HIS BANISHMENT.

SCENE.--Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment.

The long white filament which flies in the air.

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say-death:
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say-banishment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished
Be patient: for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished, is banished from the world,
And world's exile is death:-then banishment
Is death mis-term'd: calling death-banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy and thou see'st it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture and not mercy: heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not.-More validity,*
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo; they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.

And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?

Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But-banished-to kill me; banished?

O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,

* Worth, value