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* ^note.—
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! pronounce but—love and dove^{8 note}

Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid^{9 note}, he that shot so trim* ^note,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid^{1 note}

He heareth not,
he stirreth not^{2 note}

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^{6 note}

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^{7 note}

O Romeo that she were, ah that she were
An open et cætera, thou a poprin pear!

Romeo, good night;—I'll to my truckle-bed* ^note;
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^{8 note}

That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid^{9 note}

Jul.
Ah me!

Rom.
She speaks:—
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night^{4 note}

Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing* ^note clouds^{5 note},
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^{6 note}

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^{7 note}

By any other name^{8 note} would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear* ^note perfection
which
he owes,
Without that title:—Romeo, doff† ^note thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself^{9 note}.

Rom.
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul.
What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom.
By a name
I know not how to tell thee
who I am:

My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul.
My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance^{1 note}


, yet I know the sound;
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom.
Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike* ^{note 2 note}

Jul.
How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefóre?
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.

Rom.
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls^{3 note}


;
For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me^{4 note}

Jul.
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

Rom.
Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords^{5 note}


; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul.
I would not for the world, they saw thee here.

Rom.
I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight^{6 note};
And, but thou love me, let them find me here^{7 note}

Jul.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

Rom.
By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
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.

Jul.
Thou know'st, 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^{9 note}!
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^{1 note}
. 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 haviour* ^note light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange^{2 note}

I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'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 hath so discovered.

Rom.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops^{2 note}

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* ^noteJul. Nay doe not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious† ^note self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom.
If my heart's dear love—‡ ^note

Jul.
Well, do not swear§ ^note: 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^{3 note}

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^{5 note}?

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.
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. [Nurse calls within.
I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu!
Anon, good nurse!—Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.

Rom.
O blessed blessed night! I am afeard,

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 honourable^{6 note}









,
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:

Nurse. [Within.]
Madam.

Jul.
I come, anon:—But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee,—

Nurse. [Within.]
Madam.

Jul.
By and by, I come:—
To cease thy suit^{7 note}, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.

Rom.
So thrive my soul,—

Jul.
A thousand times good night! [Exit.

Rom.
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.—

Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books;
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly. Re-enter Juliet, above.

Jul.
Hist! Romeo, hist!—O, for a falconer's voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle back again^{8 note}

Else would I tear the cave^{9 note}
where echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Rom.
It is my soul* ^note, that calls upon my name:
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,

Like softest musick to attending ears!

Jul.
Romeo!

Rom.
Madam^{1 note}

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, 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,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So* ^note loving-jealous of his 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 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† ^note!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell^{2 note}


. [Exit. SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.

Fri.
The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night^{3 note}

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness^{4 note}

Now 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^{6 note}

The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb^{8 note}

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man^{5 note}

Rom.
Good morrow, father* ^note!

Fri.
Benedicite!
What early tongue so soon† ^note 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^{7 note}

:

Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right—
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom.
That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.

Fri.
God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

Rom.
With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

Fri.
That's my good son: But where hast thou been then?

Rom.
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 physick lies^{8 note}

Fri.
Be plain, good son, and homely* ^note 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 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 this day.

Fri.
Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom 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* ^note doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears† ^note;
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‡ ^note,
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.

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 now§ ^note,
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

Fri.
O, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell^{9 note}

For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love^{1 note}.

Rom.
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste^{2 note}

.

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* ^note?—
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.

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

Mer.
A challenge, on my life.

Ben.
Romeo will answer it.

Mer.

Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.

Ben.

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

Mer.

Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft^{3 note}

Ben.

Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer.

More than prince of cats^{4 note}

Ben.

The what?

Mer.

The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting fantasticoes^{3 note}

Mer.

A sail, a sail^{6 note}, a sail!

Ben.

Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.

Nurse.

Peter!

Peter.

Anon?

Nurse.

My fan, Peter^{8 note}

Mer.

Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two* ^note.

Nurse.

God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

Mer.

God ye good den^{9 note}
, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse.

Is it good den?

Mer.

'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial^{1 note} is now upon the prick of noon^{2 note}

Nurse.

Out upon you! what a man are you?

Rom.

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

Nurse.

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 Romeo?

Rom.

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.

Nurse.

You say well.

Mer.

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

Nurse.

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

Ben.

She will indite him to some supper.

Mer.

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

Rom.

What hast thou found?

Mer.

No hare, sir^{3 note}