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Why railst thou on thy Birth? the Heaven and Earth?
Since Birth, and Heaven, and Earth, all three do meet
In thee at once, which thou at once would't lose.
Fy, fy, thou sham'st thy Shape, thy Love, thy Wit;
Which like an Usurer ansund'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed,
Which should bedeck thy Shape, thy Love, thy Wit:
Thy noble Shape is but a Form of Wax,
Digressing from the Valour of a Man;
Thy dear Love fworn, but hollow Perjury,
Killing that Love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
Thy Wit, that Ornament to Shape and Love,
Mif-shapen in the Conduct of them both,
Like Powder in a skilless Soldier's Flask,
Is set a fire by thine own Ignorance,
And thou dismembred with thine own Defence.
What, rouse thee, Man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou waft but lately dead.
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou New'ft Tybalt; there art thou happy too.
The Law that threatned Death became thy Friend,
And turn'd it to Exile; there art thou happy.
A pack of Blessings light upon thy Back,
Happiness courts thee in her best Array,
But like a mis-hav'd and a fullen Wench,
Thou puttest up thy Fortune and thy Love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go get thee to thy Love, as was decreed,
Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her:
But look thou stay not 'till the Watch be fet,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your Marriage, reconcile your Friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee back,
With twenty hundred thousand times more Joy,
Than thou went'lt forth io Lamentation.
Go before, Nurse, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her hafter all the House to Bed,
Which heavy Sorrow makes them apt unto.
Romeo is coming.
Nur. O Lord, I could have staid here all Night,
To hear good Counsel: Oh, what Learning is !
My Lord, I'll tell my Lady you will come,
Rom. Do so, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide,
Nur. Here, Sir, a Ring The bid me give you, Sir:
Hie you, make hafte, for it grows very late.
Rom. How well my Comfort is reviv'd by this.
Fri, Go hence.
Good Night, and here stands all your State:
Either be gone before the Watch be fet,
Or by the break of Day disguis’d, from hence,
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your Man,
And he shall signifie from time to time,
Every good hap to you that chances here:
Give me thy Hand, 'tis late, farewel, Good Night.
Rom. But that a Joy, paft Joy, calls out on me,
It were a Grief, so brief to part with thee:
[Excunt. SCENE IV. Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Cap. Things have faln out, Sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our Daughter:
Look you, she lov'd her Kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I - Well, we were born to die.
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to Night:
I promise you, but for your Company,
I would have been a bed an hour ago.
Par. These times of Woe afford no time to Woo:
Madam, good Night, commend me to your Daughter.
La. Cap. I will
, and know her Mind early to Morrow; To Night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.
Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Child's Love: I think she will be ruld
In all refpe&s by me, nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her e'er you go to Bed,
Acquaint her here of my Son Paris Love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-
But soft; what day is this?
Par. Monday, my Lord,
Cap. Monday? ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too soon,
A Thursday let it be: A Thursday tell her
She shall be married to this Noble Earl:
Will you be ready? Do you like this hafte?
We'll keep no great a-doa Friend or two-
For, hark you, Tybalt being Nain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelesly,
Being our Kinsman, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen Friends,
And there's an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Par. My Lord,
I would that Thursday were to Morrow.
Cap. Well, get you gone----a Thursday be it then:
Go you to Juliet e'er you go to Bed, [To Lady Capulet.
Prepare her, Wife, against this Wedding-day.
Farewel, my Lordlight to my Chamber, hca!
'Afore me, it is fo late, that we may call it early by andlby
SCENE V. The Garden
Enter Romeo and Juliet above at a Window; a Ladder of
Jul. Wilt thou be gone?
It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine Ear,
Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranate Tree,
Believe me Love, it was the Nightingale.
Rom. It was the Lark, the Herald of the Morn,
No Nightingale. Look, Love, what envious Streaks
Do lace the severing Clouds in yonder East:
Night's Candles are burnt out, and jocurd Day
Stands tiptoe on the misty Mountain tops,
I must be gone and live, or stay and dye.
Jul. Yon Light is not Day-light, i know it, I:
It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales,
To be to thee this Night a Torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay, yet thou need'st not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to Death,
I am content, so thou wilt have it lo.
I'll say yon gray is not the Morning's Eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's Brow,
Nor that is not the Lark whose Notes do beat
The vaulty Heavens so high above our Heads,
I have more care to stay, than will to go :
Come Death and welcome, Juliet wills it so.
How is’t, my Soul? let's talk, it is not Day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away :
It is the Lark that sings so out of Tune,
Straining harsh Discords, and unpleasing Sharps.
Some say the Lark makes sweet Division ;
This doth not so: For she divideth us.
Some say, the Lark, and loathed Toad change Eyes,
O now I would they had chang'd Voices too :
Since, arm from arm, that Voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-up to the Day,
O now be gone, more light, and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light, more dark and dark our Woes.
Nur. Your Lady Mother is coming to your Chamber :
The Day is broke, be wary, look about.
Jul. Then Window let Day in, and let Life out.
Rom. Farewel, farewe!, one Kiss, and I'll Descend.
Jul. Art thou gone fo? Love ! Lord ! ah Husband! Friend! I must hear from thee every Day in the Hour,
(Romeo comes down by the Ladder into the Garden.
For in a Minute there are many Days,
O by this count I shall be much in Years,
E're I again behold my Romeo.
Rom. Farewel :
I will omit no opportunity,
may convey my Greetings, Love, to thee. Jul. O thinkest thou 'we shall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not, and all these Woes shall serve
For sweet Discourses, in our time to come.
Jul. O God! I have an ill Divining Soul,
Methinks I see thee now, thou art fo low,
As one dead in the bottom of a Tomb:
Either my Eye-light fails ; or thou look'st pale.
Rom, And trust me, Love, in my Eye fo do
, Dry Sorrow drinks our Blood. Adieu, adieu. [Excunt.
SCENE VI. Juliet's Chamber.
Jul. O Fortune, Fortune, all Men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him
That is renown'd for Faith? be fickle Fortune :
For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. Ho Daughter, are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls & is it my Lady Mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early ?
What' unaccuftom'd Cause procures her hither?
La. Cap. Why how now, Juliet?
Jul. Madam, I am not well.
La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your Cousin's Death?
What wilt thou wash him from his Grave with Tears?
And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live :
Therefore have done, fome Grief fhews much of Love,
But much of Grief shews still some want of Wit,
Jul. Yet let me weep, for such a feeling loss.
La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the Friend
Which you weep for.
Jul. Feeling so the loss,
I cannot chufe but ever weep the Friend.
La. Cap. Well Girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
As that the Villain lives which slaughter'd him.
Jul. What Villain, Madam
La. Cap. That same Villain, Romeo.
Jub Villain and he be many Miles afunder:
God pardon him, I do with all my Heart,
And yet no Man like he doth grieve my Heart.
La. Cap. That is because the Traitor lives.
Jul. Ay, Madam, from the reach of these my Hands :
Would none but I might venge my Cousin's Death.
La. Cap. We will have Vengeance for it, fear thou not
Then weep no more, I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banith'd Runnagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustom'd Dram,
That he shall foon keep Tybalt Company :
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied
Jul. Indeed I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, 'till I behold him