Take all myself.

Rom. I take thee at thy word;

Call me but love, I will forswear thy name,
And never more be Romeo.

What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsel.

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.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee displease.
Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and for what?
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb,

And the place death, considering who thou art,

If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I oe'r-perch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out,

And what love can do, that dares love attempt;

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here,
By whose direction found'st thou, out this place?
Rom. By love that first did prompt me to enquire,
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 farthest sea,
I would adventure for such a merchandize,

Jul. Thou knowst 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 lover's perjuries.
They say Jove laughs. Oh gentle Romeo!
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
Or if thou think 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, gentlemen, I'll prove more true,
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But 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 discover'd.

Rom. Lady by yonder blessed moon I vow-
Jul. O swear not by moon, th' inconstant moon,
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 true heart's love.

Jul. Well, do not swear-although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract 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. Th' 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

love?

Jul. But to be frank, to give it thee again.
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.

purpose,

I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu.

[Nurse calls within. Anon,

Anon, good Nurse-Sweet Montague, be true,-
Stay but a little I will come again.

Rom. O blessed, blessed night. I am afraid:
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 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 love throughout the world.

[Within-Madam.

I come anon,-but if thou mean'st not well,

I do beseech thee-[Within Madam.] By and by I comeTo cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.

To morrow I will send.

Rom. So thrive my soul.

Ful. A thousand times good night.

Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy light.

Enter JULIET again.

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falk'ner's voice, Tolure 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 angry tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name.
How silver-sweet sound lover's tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears.

Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My sweet!

Ful. At what o'clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee?

Rom. By the hour of nine.

Jul. I will not fail, 'tis twenty years till then

I have forgot why did I call thee back.'

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.
E5

Rom.

Rom. And I'll stay here 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,

That lets it hop a little from her hand,

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

Rom. I would I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, so would 1,

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!
Here will I to my ghostly father's cell,

His help to crave and my dear hap to tell..

Fri.

SCENE, III.

A MONASTERY.

Enter Friar LAWRENCE with a basket:

[Exit.

HE grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,.
Check ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light,

Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,

The day to chear, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this osier cage of ours

With baleful weeds, and precious juiced flowers.
O mickle is the powerful grace that lies

In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities!
For nought so vile, that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts to vice, and stumbles on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,.
And vice sometimes by actions dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power;

For this being smelt, with that sense cheers each part;,
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man, as well as herbs; Grace, and rude Will:

And

And where the worser is predominant,

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant..

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Good-morrow, father.

Fri. Benedicite,

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head ?
So soon to bid good-morrow to thy pillow;
Care keeps his watch on every old man's eye,
And where care lodgeth, sleep will never bidę ;
But where with unstuft brain unbruised youth
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep resides;
Therefore thy earliness assureth me

Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature;
What is the matter, son?

Rom. I tell thee, ere thou ask it me again;
I have been feasting with mine enemy,

Where to the heart's core one hath wounded me,.
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lie.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is sett
On Juliet, Capulet's fair daughter;

As mine on her's, so hers is set on mine:

When, and where, and how

We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vows,

I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I beg

That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Fri. Holy saint Francis, what a change is this!

But tell me, son, and call thy reason home,

Is not this love the offspring of thy folly,

Bred from thy wantonness and thoughtless brain ?
Be heedful, and see you stop by times,

Lest that thy rash ungovernable passions,.
O'er-leaping duty, and each dew regard,

Hurry thee one, thro' short-liv'd, dear-bought pleasures,.

To cureless woes, and lasting penitence.

Rom. I pray thee, chide me not, she whom I love,
Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love;
Do thou with heav'n smile upon our union;
'Do not withhold thy benediction from us,
But make two hearts, by holy marriagé, one.