Romeo.
Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out. [Exit. Enter Benvolio, with Mercutio.

Ben.
Romeo, my cousin Romeo.

Mer.
He is wise,
And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed.

Ben.
He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall.
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer.
Nay, I'll conjure too.
Why, Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a Sigh,
Speak but one Rhime, and I am satisfied.
Cry but Ay me! couple but love and dove,
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name to her pur-blind son and heir,
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true,(13) ^note

When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid—)
He heareth not, he 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 fore-head, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demeasns that there adjacent lye,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben.
And 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 spight. My invocation is
Honest and fair, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben.
Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
To be consorted with the hum'rous 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,
Which 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.

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