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What I have spoke-but farewel compliment !
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt lay My ;
And I will take thy word yet if thou swear'it,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs Oh, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully :
Or if you think I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse, and lay thee Nay,
So thou wilt wone : 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, Gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confels,
But that thou overheard'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 fo discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow,
That tips with silver all these fruit tree tops

Jul. O fwear not by the moon, th' inconitant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb; Left 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 inadvis'd, too sudden,
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can fay it lightens-Sweet, good night.
This bud of love by lummer'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

breaft! Rom. O, wilt thou leave me lo unsatisfied ? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Rom. Th’exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. C 2

ful.

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.
And yet I with but for the thing I have,
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.
I hear fome noise within ; dear love, adieu !

[Nurse calls within, Anon, good nurse. -Sweet Montague, be true : Stay but a little, I will come again.

[Exit, Rom. O bleffed, bleffed night! I am afraid, Being in night, all this is but a dream; Too flattering sweet to be fubftantial.

Re-enter Juliet above. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night in. If that thy bent of love be honourable, (deed. 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 1 come, anon - but if thou meau'st not well, I do beseech thee-LWithin, Madam.] By and by,

I come
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.
To-morrow will I send.
Ron. So thrive

my soul,
Ful. A thousand times good night. [Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy light. Love goes tow'rd love, as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, tow'rds school with heavy looks.

Enter Juliet again. Jul Hilt! Romeo, hift! O for a falkner's voice, To lure this taffel gentle back again--Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarte than mine,

With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name;
How filver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like foftest music to attending ears !

Jul. Romeo !
Rom. My sweet!

Jul. At what o'clock 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 I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Jul. I shall forget, to have thee itill stand there; Rememb’ring how I love thy company,

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

Jul. ' 'i'is almoit morning I would have thee gone, • And yet no further than a wanton's bird, "That let's it hop a little from her hand, • Like a poor prisoner in his twitted gyves, • And with a filk-thread plucks it back again, • So loving-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 forrow, That I shall lay good night till it be morrow. [Exit.

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! 'Would I were sleep and peace, 10 tweet to rest ! Hence will I to my ghostly Friar's close cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exita

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SCENE III. Changes to a monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.
Fri. The grey.ey'd morn smiles on the frowning

night,
Check’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light:
And darkness flecker'd, like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's burning wheels:
Now ere the sun advance his burning 'eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dans dew to dry,

I must fill

up
this ofier.cage

of ours
Which baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers,
The earth, that's Nature's mother is her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb;
And from her womb children of divers kind
We fucking on her natural bosom find :
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
0, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.
Nor nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth tome special good doth give :
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being milapplied ;
And vice sometime by action's dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and medic'nal power:
For this being smelt, with that len'e cheers each part;
Being tafted, slays all tenses with the heart.
Two such oppoted kin incamp them still
In man, as well as herbs, grace and rude will :
And where the worser is predominant,
Full-foon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter Romeo. Rom. Good morrow, father.

Fri. Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet faluteth me? Young fon, it argues a distemper'd head So foon to bid good morrow to thy bed : Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodgeth, sleep will never lie: But where unbruised youth with unstuft brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, Thou art uprous’d by some distemp’rature ; Or if not so, then here I hit it right, Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter relt was mine. Fri. God pardon fin! wast thou with Rosaline?

Rom.

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no.
I have forgot that naine, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good fon : but where halt thou been

then
Roni I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where, on a den, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies;
I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercellion likewise iteads my fue.

Fri. Be plain, good fon, and honely in thy drift; Riddling confeffion finds but riddling thrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, iny heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet; As mine on hier's, fo her's is let on inine; And all combind, save what thou muit combine By holy marriage: when, and where, and how, We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young mens love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria ! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy fallow cheeks for Rosaline ?
How much falt water thrown away in waite,
To season love, that of it doth not taite ?
The sun not yet thy fighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears.
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear, that is not wash'd off yet.
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and there woes were all for Rosaline.
And art thou change d ? pronounce this tentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no itrength in men.

Roni. Thou chid'dft me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doating, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'It me bury love.

Fri. Not in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.

Ron.

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