Enter Chorus.

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,

And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair, which love groan'd for, and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,

And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved any where:

But passion lends them power, time means to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit.

ACT II. SCENE I.

AN OPEN PLACE, ADJOINING CAPULET'S

GARDEN.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out. [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it.

Enter Benvolio, and Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
Mer.

He is wise; And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:

Call, good Mercutio.

Mer.
Nay, I'll conjure too.-
Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;

Cry but-Ah me! couple but-love and dove;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid.—
He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.-
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,

By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
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 some strange nature, letting it there stand

Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
That were some spite: my invocation

Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,

I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those

trees,

To be consorted with the humorous night:
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Now will he sit under a medlar tree,

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,

As 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 sleep:

Come, shall we go?

Ben.

Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

CAPULET'S GARDEN.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.[Juliet appears above, at a window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks!

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!-
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 in all the heaven,
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 eye in heaven 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!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!

Jul.

Rom.

Ah me!

head,

She speaks:-
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my
As is a winged messenger of heaven
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?

[Aside.

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:

D