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Because it is an enemy to thee.
Had I it written, I would tear the word.

My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words

Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound;
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

I would not for the world they saw thee here.

I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
And, but thou love me, let them find me here.
My life were better ended by their hate
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

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 vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face;

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
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 mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinkest 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 mayst think my 'haviour 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 passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,

That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,--

O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

What shall I swear by?

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.

If my heart's dear love,--

Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, 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!

O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
And yet I would it were to give again.

Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

But to be frank and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have;
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.
I hear some noise within: dear love, adieu!--
[Nurse calls within.]
Anon, good nurse!--Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.


O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

[Enter Juliet above.]

Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
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 fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.

[Within.] Madam!

I come anon.-- But if thou meanest not well,
I do beseech thee,--

[Within.] Madam!

By-and-by I come:--
To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.

So thrive my soul,--

A thousand times good night!


A thousand times the worse, to want thy light!--
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books;
But love from love, towards school with heavy looks.

[Retirong slowly.]

[Re-enter Juliet, above.]

Hist! Romeo, hist!--O 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.

It is my soul that calls upon my name:

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


My dear?

At what o'clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee?

At the hour of nine.

I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Let me stand here till thou remember it.

I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.

And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,

Forgetting any other home but this.

'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:

And yet no farther than a wanton's bird;
That lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

I would I were thy bird.

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.


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.


Scene III. Friar Lawrence's Cell.

[Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket.]

The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:
Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying gave, that is her womb:
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities:
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings 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.]

Good morrow, father!


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 uprous'd with some distemperature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,--
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

That's my good son: but where hast thou been then?

I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me
That's by me wounded. Both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies;
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;

Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when, and where, and how
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here!

Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men's love, then, lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence then,--
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

And bad'st me bury love.

Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to have.

I pray thee chide not: she whom I love now

Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

O, she knew well

Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast.


Scene IV. A Street.

[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]

Where the devil should this Romeo be?--
Came he not home to-night?


Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.


Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,
Torments him so that he will sure run mad.


Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.


A challenge, on my life.


Romeo will answer it.


Any man that can write may answer a letter.


Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
dares, being dared.


Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white
wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love song; the
very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft:
and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?


Why, what is Tybalt?


More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he's the
courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing
prick-song--keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his
minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very
butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of
the very first house,--of the first and second cause: ah, the
immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay.--


The what?


The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these
new tuners of accents!--'By Jesu, a very good blade!--a very tall
man!--a very good whore!'--Why, is not this a lamentable thing,
grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange
flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moi's, who stand so
much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old
bench? O, their bons, their bons!


Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!


Without his roe, like a dried herring.--O flesh, flesh, how art
thou fishified!--Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed
in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench,--marry, she had
a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gypsy;
Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a gray eye or so,
but not to the purpose,--

[Enter Romeo.]

Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your
French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

The slip, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a

case as mine a man may strain courtesy.


That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a
man to bow in the hams.

Meaning, to court'sy.

Thou hast most kindly hit it.

A most courteous exposition.

Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

Pink for flower.


Why, then is my pump well-flowered.

Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out
thy pump;that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may
remain, after the wearing, sole singular.

O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done; for
thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am
sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the

Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not

there for the goose.


I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

Nay, good goose, bite not.

Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp

And is it not, then, well served in to a sweet goose?

O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch
narrow to an ell broad!

I stretch it out for that word broad: which added to the

goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.


Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art
thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; not art thou what thou art, by
art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a
great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble
in a hole.


Stop there, stop there.


Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.


Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.


O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: for I was
come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant indeed to occupy
the argument no longer.

Here's goodly gear!

[Enter Nurse and Peter.]


A sail, a sail, a sail!


Two, two; a shirt and a smock.



My fan, Peter.

Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.

God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.

Is it good-den?

'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is
now upon the prick of noon.

Out upon you! what a man are you!

One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.

By my troth, it is well said;--for himself to mar, quoth

'a?--Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young

I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you have

found him than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of
that name, for fault of a worse.

You say well.

Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely,

If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

She will indite him to some supper.


A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!

What hast thou found?

No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is
something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
    An old hare hoar,
    And an old hare hoar,
  Is very good meat in Lent;
    But a hare that is hoar
    Is too much for a score
  When it hoars ere it be spent.

Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.

I will follow you.


Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,--
[singing] lady, lady, lady.

[Exeunt Mercutio, and Benvolio.]

Marry, farewell!--I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was
this that was so full of his ropery?

A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and

will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.

An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an'a

were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot,
I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his
flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates.--And thou must stand
by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure!

Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon

should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon
as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law
on my side.

Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me

quivers. Scurvy knave!--Pray you, sir, a word: and, as I told
you, my young lady bid me enquire you out; what she bade me say I
will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead
her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
kind of behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young;
and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were
an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak

Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto


Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much: Lord,

Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

I will tell her, sir,--that you do protest: which, as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

Bid her devise some means to come to shrift

This afternoon;
And there she shall at Friar Lawrence' cell
Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.

No, truly, sir; not a penny.

Go to; I say you shall.

This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey-wall:
Within this hour my man shall be with thee,
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Now God in heaven bless thee!--Hark you, sir.

What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,

Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady.--Lord, Lord!
when 'twas a little prating thing,--O, there's a nobleman in
town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good
soul, had as lief see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger
her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but
I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout
in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with
a letter?

Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the dog: no; I

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