And sigh'd his soul towards the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.

Jes. In such a night

Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;

And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,

And ran dismay'd away.

Lor. In such a night

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand

Upon the wide sea-banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.

Jes. In such a night

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old son.

Lor. In such a night

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,

And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.

Jes. And in such a night

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;

Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.

Lor. And in such a night

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,

Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night

Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica; look how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;

But while this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grossly close it in, we can not hear it.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn:
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.

Jes. I'm never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive;
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,

Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, (Which is the hot condition of their blood;)

If they perchance but hear a trumpet sound,

Or any air of music touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand;

Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,

By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet

Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods:
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.

The man that hath not music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affection dark as Erebus:

Let no such man be trusted

THE ATTRIBUTES OF MERCY.

[Merchant of Venice.]

The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal pow'r,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above the sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this-
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.

[Merchant of Venice.]

LOVE SCENE BY NIGHT IN A GARDEN.

Romeo. He jests at scars, that never felt a woundBut, soft! what light through yonder window breaks; It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!

[Juliet appears above at a window.]

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou her maid art far more fair than she;

Be not her maid since she is envious;

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it: cast it off

It is my lady; O! it is my love;

O that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

Her eye discourses; I will answer it

I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars of all the heav'n,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes,
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp: her eyes in heav'n
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heav'n,

Unto the white-upturned, wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Romeo? 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

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

Rom. I take thee at thy word:

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;

Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that thus, bescreen'd in night,

So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom. By a name

I know not how to tell thee who I am:

My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee.

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, 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;

And the place death, considering who thou art,

If any of my kinsmen, find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls,

For stony limits can not hold love out;

And what love can do, that dares love attempt:
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

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 eyes, And but thou love me, let them find me here;

My life were better ended by their hate,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far

As that vast shore, wash'd with the farthest sea,

I would adventure for such merchandise.

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny
What I have spoke-but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ay;
And I will take thy word. Yet if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo!
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; 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 coying to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'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 so discover'd.

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

Jul. O swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb:

Lest 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 heart's dear 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 sudden,

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer'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 satisfaction canst 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. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.

And yet I wish 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 some noise within. Dear love, adieu!

Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O, blessed, blessed night! I am afear'd,
Being in night, all this is but a dream;

[Nurse calls within.]

Too flattering sweet to be substantial.

[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;

I come, anon-but if thou mean'st not well,

[Within: Madam!]

I do beseech thee-[Within: Madam!] By-and-by, I come,
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.
To-morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my soul

Jul. A thousand times good night.

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.

[Exit.]

[Enter Juliet again.]

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer's voice,
To lure this tassel 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's name.

Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name.
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears.

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.