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Re-enter Juliet above.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good-night, indeed.

If that thy bent of love be honourable,
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.

I come, anon but if thou mean'st not well,
I do befeech thee-[Within: Madam.] By and by,

I come

To cease thy fuit, and leave me to my grief.
To morrow will I send.

ir

Rom. So thrive my foul,

Jul. A thousand times, good night.

[Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy

light.

Love goes tow'rd love, as school-boys from their

books;

But love from love, tow'rds school with heavy looks.

Enter Juliet again.

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! 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 hoarse than mine,

With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name, How filver-fweet found lovers' tongues by night,

Like fofteft musick to attending ears!

f

Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My Sweet!

Jul. 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 stand here 'till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembring 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,
That lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prifoner in his twisted 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.

forrow,

Parting is such sweet

That I shall fay good-night, 'till it be morrow. (Exit.
Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy

breast!

'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly Friar's close Cell,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

[Exit.

:

SCENE

Fri.

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Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.

THE HE grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frown

ing 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 chear, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this osier-cage of ours

With 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 fome, and yet all different.
O, 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 some special good doth give,
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair ufe,
Revolts from true Birth, stumbling on abuse.

* The grey-ey'd morn, &c.] These four first lines are here replaced, conformable to the first edition, where such a description is much more proper than in the mouth of Romeo just before, when he was full of nothing but the

thoughts of his mistress. POPE.

In the folio these lines are printed twice over, and given once to Romeo, and once to the Frier.

9-powerful grace,] Efficacious virtue.

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ROMEO and JULIET.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice fometime by action's dignify'd.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
* Poifon hath refidence, and med'cine power,
For this being smelt, with that sense chears each part,
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
* Two such opposed foes encamp them ftill
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, fleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuft brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign;
Therefore thy earliness doth me affure,
Thou art up-rouz'd by some distemp'rature;

Poison hath refidence, and medicine power:] I believe Shakespear wrote, more accиrately, thus,

Poison bath refidence, and medicnal power:

i. e. both the poison and the antidote are lodged within the rind of this flower. WARBURTON.

There is no need of alteration. 2 Two Such opposed FORS] This is a modern Sophistication. The old books have it opposedKINGS. So that it appears, Shakespear wrote, Tawo such op

posed KIN. Why he calls them Kin was, because they were qualities refiding in one and the same substance. And as the enmity of opposed Kin generally rises higher than that between strangers, this circumstance adds a beauty to the expression. WARE.

Foes is certainly wrong, and kin is not right. Two kings are two opposite powers, two contending potentates, in both the natural and moral world. The word encamp is proper to commanders.

1

Or if not fo, then here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not been in bed to night.
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter Rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon fin! wast thou with Rofaline?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no.

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good fon: but where hast thou

been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again;
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where, on a fudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy phyfick lies;
I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My interceffion likewise steads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good fon, rest homely in thy drift,
Riddling confeffion finds but riddling shrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's' dear love is

fet

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet;
As mine on hers, fo hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd; fave what thou must 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 faint Francis, what a change is here !
Is Rofaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So foon forfaken? young mens' love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Holy faint Francis! what a deal of brine
Hath washt thy fallow cheeks for Rofaline ?
How much falt-water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste?
The Sun not yet thy fighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my antient ears,
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.

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