Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: -Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out: Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than 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. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And, but thou love me, let them find me here: Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to in quire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my face; Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, moon That monthly changes in her circled orb, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee. Rom. Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 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 pur pose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. [Nurse calls within. I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! - Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Ent. Rom. O blessed blessed night! I am afeard, Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, for a falconer's To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name : Do not swear at all; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest musick to attending ears! Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Rom. At what o'clock to-morrow At 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 still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company. Rom. And I'll still stay, 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; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk 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 Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: Rom. Good morrow, father! Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine. Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here! Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; Fri. fast. SCENE IV. - A Street. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. Mer. Well said: Follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?- sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the Came he not home to-night? Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.. Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Ben. Romeo will answer it. Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared. Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than prince of cats, (I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, 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 antick, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents!-By 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, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons! Enter ROMEO. Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring : -0, 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; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. Rom. Good morrow to you both. terfeit did I give you? What coun Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you not conceive? Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy. - Mer. That's as much as to say such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning - to court'sy. Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. Rom. A most courteous exposition. Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. Mer. Right. wearing, solely singular. Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness! Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits fail. Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; or I'll cry a match. Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: Was I with you there for the goose? Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the goose. Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad! Rom. I stretch it out for that word-broad: which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Ro meo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well a by nature for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. Ben. Stop there, stop there. Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large. Mer. O, thou art deceived, I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale: and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. Rom. Here's goodly geer! Enter Nurse and PETER. Peter. Anon? Nurse. My fan, Peter. Mer. Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two. Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon. Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath roade himself to mar. Nurse. By my troth, it is well said;-For himself to mar, quoth'a? - Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him, than he was whin you sought him: I am the youngest of that DNA, for 'fault of a worse. Nurse. You say well. Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took i'faith; wisely, wisely. Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence | Which to the high top-gallant of my joy with you. Ben. She will indite him to some supper. Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell! Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains, Farewell!-Commend me to thy mistress. Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! - Hark you, sir. Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse? Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say Two may keep counsel, putting one away? Rom. I warrant thee; my man's as true as steel. Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady Lord, lord! - when 'twas a little prating thing, O, there's a noblemant in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see dinner thither. Rom. I will follow you. Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady. [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a month. Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirtgills; I am none of his skains-mates:- And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure? Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon as another man, f I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on ny side. Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that very part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young ady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me ay, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, fye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they ay, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they ay for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, you should deal double with her, truly, it were ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and ry weak dealing. ess. - Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and misI protest unto thee, Nurse. Good heart! and, i'faith, I will tell her much: Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman. Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost ot mark me. Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; and there she shall at friar Laurence' cell Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be ere. Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbeywall: thin this hour my man shall be with thee; ad bring thee cords made like a tackled stair: him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? Rom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R. is for the dog. No; I know it begins with some other letter: and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. Rom. Commend me to thy lady. Nurse. Peter, Take my fan, and go before. SCENE V.- Capulet's Garden. Enter JULIET. [Exit. [Exeunt Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the nurse; In half an hour she promis'd to return. Nurse. Jesu, What haste? can you not stay | To fetch a ladder, by the which your love awhile? Do you not see, that I am out of breath? Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark: Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast But you shall bear the burden soon at night. breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,—though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare: He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home? Jul. No, no: But all this did I know before; What says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces, Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman, Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st? Nurse. Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. Jul. Hie to high fortune! —honest nurse, farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO. Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act That after-hours with sorrow chide us not! Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine. Fri. These violent delights have violent ends, Here comes the lady ; — Ó, so light a foot Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. both. Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much. Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich musick's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth. Fri. Come, come, with me, and we will make short work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, ACT III. Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants. Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; The day is hot, the Capulets abroad. And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second |