Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring 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; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 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 sorrow, That I shall say-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 father's cell; His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit. SCENE III. FRIAR LAURENCE'S CELL. Enter Friar Laurence, with a basket. Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels: With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers. O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies For this, being smelt, with that part 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. Enter Romeo.· ́ Rom. Good morrow, father! Benedicite! Fri. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?— Young son, it argues a distemper'd head, So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, Thou art up-rous'd by some distemprature; Or if not so, then here I hit it rightOur Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. · Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: As mine on hers, so her's is set on mine; And all combin'd, save what thou must combine Fri. Holy saint Francis! what a change is here! Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline. Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. Rom. And bad'st me bury love. Fri. Not in a grave, To lay one in, another, out to have. Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. To turn your households' rancour to pure love. Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. Fri. Wisely, and slow; They stumble, that run fast. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A STREET. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?Came he not home to-night? Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. |