One nick-name to her pur-blind fon and heir: (Young Abraham Cupid, he that fhot so true, 9 When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid-) He heareth not, he ftirreth not, he moveth not, The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure thee by Rofaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead, and her fcarlet lip, That in thy likeness thou appear to us. Ben. An' if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him, Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him, To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle, Of fome strange nature, letting it there ftand Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among thefe trees, 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. [Exeunt. 9 When King Cophetua, &,] Ailuding to an old ballad. POPE. • Rom. H * ། Enter Romeo email on Ejefts at fcars, that never felt a woundBut, foft! what light thro' yonder window breaks? 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 fhe. 2 Be not her maid, fince the 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 the were! She speaks, yet the fays nothing, what of that ? I am too bold, 'tis not to me the fpeaks: He jefts at fcars, That is, Mercutio jefts, whom he overheard. 2 Be not her maid,] Be not a votary to the moon, to Diana. See, See, how the leans her cheek upon her hand! Rom. She fpeaks. 4 Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but fworn my love, Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I fpeak at this? ful. '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, [Afide. a Montague Ji. e. you would be just what you are, altho' you were not of the house of Montague. WARBURTON. I think the true reading is, Montague. Thou art a being of peculiar excellence, and haft none of the malignity of the family, from which thou haft thy name. Hanmer reads, Thou'rt not thyfelf so, though ä Montague. By any other name would smell as fweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, skrytá of thee, Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd, A Jul. What man art thou, that thus, bescreen'd in night, So ftumbleft on my counsel? Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am; Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the found. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montaguè? Rom. Neither, fair Saint, if either thee diflike. fore? The orchard-walls are high, and hard to climb na ni And the place death, confidering who thou art, If any of my kinfinen find thee here. Rom With love's light wings did I o'er-perch thefe 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 fwords, look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world, they faw thee here. eyes, And And but thou love me, let them find me here; Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. ⠀ ** Jul. By whofe direction found it thou out this place? Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no Pilot, yet wert thou as far As that vaft fhore, wash'd with the farthest sea, ful. Thou know'ft, the mask of night is on my face, Elfe would a maiden-blush bepaint my cheek 7 And therefore thou may't think my 'haviour light; Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow, coying to be frange.] For coying, the modern editions have cunning Jul. |