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Nurfe. I know not.
Jul. Go, afk his name.If he be married,
Jul. My only love fprung from my only hate;
Nurfe. What's this? what's this? ful. A rhyme I learn'd e'en now Of one I danc'd withal.
Nurse. Anon, anon-
[One calls within, Juliet.
Now old Defire doth on his death-bed lie,
With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
CHORUS.] This chorus added fince the first edition. POPE. Chorus. The use of this chorus is not easily discovered, it conduces nothing to the progrefs
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks: But to his foe fuppos'd he must complain,
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks. · Being held a foe, he may not have access
To breathe fuch vows as lovers ufe to fwear And she, as much in love, her means much less, To meet her new-beloved any where:
of the play, but relates what is
But Paffion lends them power, Time means, to
Temp'ring extremities with extreme fweet.
A CT II. SCENE I.
Enter Romeo alone.
ANI go forward when my heart is here?
Enter Benvolio, with Mercutio.
Ben. Romeo, my coufin Romeo.
And, on my life, hath ftol'n him home to bed.
Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.
Why, Romeo! humours! madman! paffion! lover!
One nick-name to her pur-blind fon and heir:
When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid-
Ben. An' if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him,
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among To be conforted with the hum'rous night. Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he fit under a medlar-tree,
And with his mistress were that kind of fruit,
Which maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.-< Romeo, good-night; I'll to my truckle-bed,
This field-bed is too cold for me to fleep:
Come, fhall we go?
Ben. Go, then, for 'tis in vain
To feek him here that means not to be found.
9 When King Cophetua, &c.] Alluding to an old ballad. POPE.
Changes to Capulet's Garden.
Ejefts at fcars, that never felt a wound-
It is the Eaft, and Juliet is the Sun!
[Juliet appears above, at a window. Arife, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already fick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. 2 Be not her maid, fince fhe is envious; Her veftal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; caft it off
3 It is my Lady; O! it is my Love; O that the knew fhe were!
She fpeaks, yet fhe fays nothing; what of that?
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks :
He jefts at fears,] That is, Mercutio jefts, whom he overheard.
2 Be not her maid,] Be not a
votary to the moon, to Diana.
3 It is my lady;-] This line and half I have replaced.
See, how the leans her cheek upon her hand!
Rom. She speaks.
4 Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refufe thy name:
Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I speak at this?
Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: 6 Thou art thyself, 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,