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 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 to her pur-blind son and heir:
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true,
^{9 note}When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid—)6Q02476Q0248
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 forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesns 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 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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