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 bove.

[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,
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 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!

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee?

Rom. By the hour of nine.

Ful. 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.
ES

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 I,

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.

[Exit.

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.

TH

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, sieep will never bide;
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 distempʼrature ;
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 set 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 marriage, one.

E 6.

Fri.

Fri. Well, come, my pupil, go along with me,
In one respect I'll give thee my assistance;
For this alliance may so happy prove,

To turn your household rancour to pure love.
Rom. O let us hence, Love stands on sudden haste.
Fri. Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

Mer.

SCENE IV.

The STREET.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

[Exeunt.

WHERE the devil should this Romeo be? came

he not home to night?

Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

Mer. Why that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabb'd with a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with a love-song, the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's but-shaft; and is he a man to encounter Tibalt ? Ben. Why, what is Tibalt?

Mer. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments; he fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion: rests his minum one, two, and the third in your bosom; the very butcher of a silk-button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause; ah, the immortal passado, the punto reverso, the hay

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affected phantasies, these new tuners of accents :-Jesu a very good blade—a very tall man-a very good whore- -Why is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion mongers, these pardonnez moy's?

Ben. Here comes Romeo.

Mer.

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose.

Enter ROMEO.

Signior Romeo, bonjour, there's a French salutation for you.
Rom. Good-morrow to you both.

Mer. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mer. The slip, Sir, the slip: can you not conceive? Rom. Pardon, Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may strain curtsey.

Enter NURSE and ber MAN.

Ben. A sail! a sail!

Mer. Two, two, a shirt and a smock.

Nurse. Peter.

Pet. Anon.

Nurse. My fan, Peter.

Mer. Do, good Peter, to hide her face.

Nurse. Good ye good-morrow, gentlemen.

Mer, Good ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse, Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may fit.d young Romeo?

Rom. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a

worse.

Nurse. You say well. If you be he, Sir,

I desire some confidence with you.

Ben. She will indite him to supper presently.

Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd: so ho.

Rom. What hast thou found?

Mer. No, hare, Sir, but a bawd. Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewel, ancient lady.

Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.

Nurse. I pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his roguery?

Rom. A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself

talk,