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 'havior light;
But trust me, gentleman, I 'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'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 has so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I vow—
Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the 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 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 unadvised, 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. The 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.
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.—
Nurse. (Within L.) Madam!

Jul. I hear some noise within.-Dear love, adieu! Anon, good Nurse !—Sweet Montague, be true, Stay but a little, I will come again.

[Exit from Balcony L.

Rom. (c.) O, blessed, blessed night! I am a

feard,

Being in night, all this is but a dream,
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 honorable,

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 fortune at thy foot I'll lay ;

And follow thee, my love, throughout the world.
Nurse. (Within L.) Madam!

Jul. I come, anon!—But, if thou mean'st not well,

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.

To-morrow will I send.

Re-enter Juliet L.

Jul. Hist, Romeo, hist!—Oh, 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. (Without.) It is my love that calls upon my name!

How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!

Jul. Romeo!

ROMEO enters R.

Rom. (c.) My sweet!

Jul. At what o' clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee?

Rom. At 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, Rememb'ring how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll still stay here 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;

Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,

So loving-jealous of its 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: Parting is such sweet sor

row,

Tassel-gentle-the male of the gosshawk.

#

That I shall say—Good night, till it be morrow.

[Exit from Balcony L. Rom. (c.) Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in

thy breast:

Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!

[Exit R.

SCENE III.—The Cloisters of a Convent.
Enter Friar Laurence, with a basket S. E. R.
Lau. (r.) The grey-eyed morn smiles on the
frowning night,

Check'ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,

The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to try,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours,

With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
(R. C.)

O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies

In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities;
For nought so vile that on earth doth live,

But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor ought so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts to vice, and stumbles on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometime 's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:
For this being smelt, with that sense cheers each
part;

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man, as well as herbs; grace and rude will:
And where the worser is predominant,

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Rom. (Without L.) Good morrow, father.

Lau. Benedicite!

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

Enter Romeo L.

Young son, (r. c.) it argues a distemper'd head,

So soon to bid good morrow to thy pillow.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never bide;
But where, with unstuff'd brain, unbruised youth
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep resides.
Therefore, thy earliness assureth me

Thou art up-roused by some distemp'rature.
What is the matter, son?

Rom. (l. c.) I tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.

I have been feasting with mine enemy;

Where to the heart's core, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lie.

Lau. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift. Rom. Then plainly, know, my heart's dear love

is set

On Juliet, Capulet's fair daughter;

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine:

But when, and where, and how

We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vows,

I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I beg,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Lau. Holy Saint Francis!

But tell me, son, and call thy reason home,

Is not this love the offspring of thy folly,

Bred from thy wantonness and thoughtless brain?
Be heedful, youth, and see thou stop betimes,
Lest that thy rash ungovernable passions,
O'er-leaping duty, and each due regard,

Hurry thee on, thro' short-lived, dear-bought plea

sures,

To cureless woes and lasting penitence.

Rom. I pray thee, chide me not; she whom I
love,

Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love;
Do thou, with heav'n, smile upon our union;
Do not withhold thy benediction from us,
But make two hearts, by holy marriage one.

Lau. Well, come, my pupil, go along with me: In one respect 'll give thee my assistance;