ACT THE SECOND. SCENE 1. The Street. Enter BENVOLIO, with MERCUTIO. Ben. Romeo, my cousin Romeo. Mer. He is wise, And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed. Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall. Call, good Mercutio. Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. Why, Romeo! humour! madman! passion! lover! Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfy'd. Ben. And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. My invocation Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise him up. Ben. Come, he hath hid himself amongst these trees, To be consorted with the hum'rous night. Mer. Romeo, good night; I'll to my truckle bed, This field bed is too cold for me to sleep : Come, shall we go? SCENE II. [Exeunt. A Garden. Enter ROMEO. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a woundBut soft, what light thro' yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! It is my lady-Oh, it is my love! Oh that she knew she were! JULIET appears above, at a Window. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, I am too bold-Oh, were those eyes in Heav'n, That I might touch that cheek! Jul. Ah me! Rom. She speaks, she speaks! Oh, speak again, bright angel, for thou art Jul. Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Rom. I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, I will forswear my name, Jul. What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel? Rom. 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 an hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee displease. what? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb, Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt: Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye, Then 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 inquire, 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, Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, So thou wilt woo: but, else, not for the world. And, therefore, thou may'st think my 'haviour light: Jul. O swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, D That monthly changes in her circled orb, Jul. Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 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, 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 purpose, love? Jul. But, to be frank, and give it thee again. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love, as deep ;-the more I give to thee, I hear some noise within ;-dear love, adieu !— Jul. Anon, good Nurse-Sweet Montague, be Stay but a little, I will come again. Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afraid, [Exit. Being in night, all this is but a dream! Too flattering sweet to be substantial. |