Rom. SCENE II. Changes to Capulet's Garden. Enter Romeo. E jests at scars, that never felt a wound--- dow breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun ! [Juliet appears above, at a window, Arife, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon, O that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? * He jefis at scars,] That is, Mercutio jests, whom he overheard. Be not ber maid,] Be not a votary to the moon, to Diana. See, See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! Jul. Ah me! Rom. She speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Ro meo ? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy : '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 rose, [Afide. a Montague.] i. e. you would be just what you are, altho' you were not of the house of Montague. WARBURTON. I think the true reading is, Thou art a being of peculiar ex- By any other name would smell as sweet. Rom. I take thee at thy word : Jul. What man art thou, that thus, bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel ? I know not how to tell thee who I am : My name, dear Saint, is hateful to myself, Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Rom. Neither, fair Saint, if either thee dislike. fore? The orchard-walls are high, and hard to climb; Rom. With love's light wings did 1 o'er-perch these walls, For ftony limits cannot hold love out; Jul. If they do fee 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 eyes, And And but thou love me, let them find me here; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden-blush bepaint my cheek : In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, i i And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light; Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, 7-coying to be strange.] For coying, the modern editions have cunning. Jul. Jul. O fwear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb; Jul. Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 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 unadvis'd, too fudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say, it lightens. Sweet, good night. This bud of love by fummer'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 breast! Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? Jul. What fatisfaction canít thou have to-night? Rom. Th' 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. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what pur pose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have; Anon, good nurse. Sweet Montague, be true. [Nurfe calls within. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit, Being in night, all this is but a dream; Too flattering-fweet to be substantial. Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afraid, Re-enter |