Ful. Ay me!

Rom. She fpeaks :---

O, fpeak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged meffenger of heaven

Unto the white upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he beftrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bofom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refufe thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be but fworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I speak at this?

[Afide Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; Thou art thyfelf, 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, By any other name would fmell as fweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title:-Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

Rom. I take thee at thy word:

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus befcreen'd in

So ftumbleft on my counfel?

Rom. By a name

I know not how to tell thee who I am:

My name, dear faint, is hateful to myself,

[night,

Becaufe

Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

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

Rom. Neither, fair faint, if either thee diflike. Jul. How cam'ft thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb! And the place death, confidering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch thefe For ftony limits cannot hold love out : [walls; And what love can do, that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no ftop to me.

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

Jul. I would not for the world, they faw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hideme from their fight; And, but thou love me, let them find me here; My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

Jul. By whofe direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By Love, who firft 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 vaft shore wafh'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for fuch merchandize.

Ful. Thou know't the mask of night is on thy face;
Elfe would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou haft heard me fpeak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain fain deny
What I have fpoke; but farewel compliment!

Doft

Doft thou love me? I know, thou wilt fay-Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou fwear'ft,
Thou may'ft prove falfe; at lovers' perjuries,
They fay, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou doft love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'ft I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverfe, and fay thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, elfe, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;

And therefore thou may't think my haviour light:
But truft me, gentleman, I'll prove more true,
Than thofe that have more cunning to be ftrange.
I should have been more ftrange, I must confefs;
But that thou overheardft, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's paffion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath fo difcovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow,
That tips with filver all these fruit-tree tops-
Jul. O, fwear not by the moon, the inconstant moon
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Left that thy love prove likewife variable.
Rom. What shall I fwear by?

Jul. Do not fwear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, fwear by thy gracious felf,
Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not fwear; although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night:

It is too rafh, too unadvised, too fudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth ceafe to be,
Ere one can fay-it lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bad of love, by fummer's rip'ning breath,

May

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet,
Good-night, good-night! as fweet repofe and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breaft!
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unfatisfied?
Jul. What fatisfaction canft thou have to-night?
Rom. The 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't thou withdraw it? for what put
pofe, love?

Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again,
And yet I wifh but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the fea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
I hear fome noife within; Dear love, adieu!

[Nurfe calls within. Anon, good nurfe!-Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O bleffed bleffed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-fweet to be fubftantial.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

[Exit,

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, If that thy bent of love be honourable,

[indeed. Thy purpofe marriage, fend 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 lord, throughout the world. [Within: Madam. I come, anon :-But if thou mean it not well,

I do befeech thee,-[Within: Madam. By and by, I

come:

To ceafe thy fuit, and leave me to my grief:

To-morrow will I fend.

Rom. So thrive my foul!

Ful. A thoufand times good night!

[Exit.

Rom. A thoufand times the worse, to want thy light.

Love goes toward love, as fchool-boys from their books; But love from love towards fchool with heavy looks.

Re-enter JULIET again, above.

Ful. Hift! Romeo, hift!-O, for a falconer's voice, To lure this taffel-gentle back again!

Bondage is hoarfe, and may not speak aloud;
Elfe would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarfe than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Rom. It is my foul, that calls upon my name:
How filver-fweet found lovers' tongues by night,
Like foftest music to attending ears!

Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My fweet!

Ful. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I fend to thee?

Rom. By the hour of nine.

Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years 'till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me ftand here 'till thou remember it. Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll ftill ftay, to have thee ftill forget, Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almoft morning, I would have thee gone:

And