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Nurse. I know not.
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 fon of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate;
Too early feen, 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?

Jul. A rhyme I learn'd e'en now
Of one I danc'd withal.

Nurse. Anon, anon

[One calls within, Juliet.

Come, let's away, the strangers all are gone.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHORUS.

Now old Defire doth on his death-bed lie,

And young Affection gapes to be his heir; That Fair, for which love groan'd fore, and would

die,

Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,

With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. 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 any where :

of the play, but relates what is already known, or what the next scenes will shew; and relates it without adding the improvement of any moral sentiment.

*CHORUS.] This chorus added fince the first edition. POPE. Chorus. The use of this chorus is not eafily discovered, it conduces nothing to the progress

But Passion lends them power, Time means, to

meet;

Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet.

[Exit Chorus.

C

ACT II. SCENE Ι.

The STREET.

Enter Romeo alone.

ROMEO.

AN I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.

Enter Benvolio, with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my cousin Romeo.

Mer. He is wife,

And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed.

[Exit.

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard

wall.

Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.

Why, Romeo ! humours! madman! passion! lover!

Appear thou in the likeness of a Sigh,

Speak but one Rhyme, and I am fatisfied.
Cry but Ab me! couple but love and dove,

Speak to my goffip Venus one fair word,

One

1

One nick-name to her pur-blind son and heir:
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true,
When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid)
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not,
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesns that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An' if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him,
Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him,

To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle,
Of fome strange nature, letting it there stand
'Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
That were fome spight. My invocation is
Honest and fair, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
To be conforted with the hum'rous night.
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Now will he fit under a medlar-tree,

And with his mistress were that kind of fruit,

Which maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. - <

Romeo, good-night; I'll to my truckle-bed,
This field-bed is too cold for me to fleep:

Come, shall we go?

Ben. Go, then, for 'tis in vain

To feek him here that means not to be found.

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When King Cophetua, &c.] Alluding to an old ballad. POPE.

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Rom.

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SCENE II.

Changes to Capulet's Garden.

Enter Romeo.

E jests at scars, that never felt a wound-
But, foft! what light thro' yonder win-

dow breaks?

It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun!

[Juliet appears above, at a window.

Arife, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already fick and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than fhe.
* Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off
3 It is my Lady; O! it is my Love;

O that she knew she were!

١٠

She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars of all the heav'n,
Having fome business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres 'till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As day-light doth a lamp; her eyes in heav'n
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would fing, and think it were not night:

He jests at scars, That is, Mercutio jefts, whom he overheard.

Be not her maid,] Be not a

votary to the moon, to Diana.
3. It is my lady ;-) This line?
and half I have replaced.

See,

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She speaks.

4 Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this Sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger from heav'n,
Unto the white-upturned, wondring, eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him;
When he bestrides 5 the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Ro

meo?

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?

Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: 6 Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face-nor any other part. What's in a name? that which we call a rofe,

4 O, speak again, bright Angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night,] Tho' all the printed copies concur in this reading, yet the latter part of the Simile seems to require,

As glorious to this Sight; and therefore I have ventured to alter the text fo. THEOBALD. 5--the lazy-pacing clouds) Thus corrected from the first edition, in the other lazy-puffing. POPE.

6 Thou art thyself, though not

D 4

[Afide.

a Montague ] i. e. you would be just what you are, altho' you were not of the house of Montague. WARBURTON.

I think the true reading is,
Thou art thyself, then not a
Montague.

Thou art a being of peculiar ex
cellence, and haft none of the
malignity of the family, from
which thou hast thy name.
Hanner reads,

Thou'rt not thyself so, though a Montazue..

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