Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? And slay thy lady, that in thy life lives,

By doing damned hate upon thyself?

Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?

Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do

meet

In thee at once; which thou at once would'st lose. Fie, fie thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit:

Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all,

And usest none in that true use indeed

Which would bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.

Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man:
Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to
cherish :

Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask,
Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance,

And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy:
The law, that threaten'd death, became thy
friend,

And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
Thou puttest up thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.

Go get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But, look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of thy prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.--
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here all
the night,

To hear good counsel: O, what learning is !My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you,

sir :

Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

[Exit.

Rom. How well my comfort is revived by this! Fri. Go hence: good night; and here stands all your state :

Either be gone before the watch be set,

Or by the break of day, disguised, from hence;
Sojourn in Mantua : I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good
night.

Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS.

Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter : Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I;-well; we were born to die.'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night : I promise you, but for your company,

I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo; Madam, good night: commend me

daughter.

to your

Lady Cap. I will, and know her mind early tomorrow;

To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of
my child's love: I think she will be ruled
In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;

Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-
But soft; what day is this?

Par.

Cap. Monday? ha! ha!

is too soon,

Monday, my lord.

Well, Wednesday

O' Thursday let it be ;—o' Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl

Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado;—a friend, or two :-
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:

Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,

And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were

to-morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone :-o' Thursday be it then :

:

Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,

Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.-Farewell, my lord.-Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me, it is so very late, that we

May call it early by-and-by :-good night.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Loggia to Juliet's Chamber.

Enter ROMEO and JULIET.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree : Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain ops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua : Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death:

I am content, so thou wilt have it so.

I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,

"Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay, than will to go;-
Come, death, and welcome!--Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.

Jul It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us :

Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?-more dark and
dark our woes.

Nurse. Madam!

Jul. Nurse?

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:

The day is broke; be wary, look about.

[Exit.

Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. [ROMEO descends.

Jul. Art thou gone so? love! lord! ay-husband, friend!

I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:

O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.