Enter Romeo alone.
How vainly have I spent this idle Night!
Even Wine can't heal the Raging of my Love.
This sure shou'd be the Mansion of fair Juliet,
For in such Groves the Deities first dwelt.
Can I grow forward, when my heart is here?
Turn back dull Earth and find thy Centre out. [Juliet appears at her Window.

But soft! what Light thro' yonder Window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun!
She seems to hang upon the Cheek of Night,
Fairer than Snow upon a Raven's Back;
Brighter than Brilliants in an Æthiop's Ear.
Were she in yonder Sphere she'd shine so bright,
The Birds wou'd sing, and think the Day were breaking.
See, how she leans her Cheek upon her Hand!
Oh! that I were a Glove upon that Hand,
That I might touch that Cheek!

Juliet.
Ah! me.

Romeo.
She speaks!
Ah! speak again, bright Angel, for thou art
As glorious to this Night, being o'er my Head,
As is a winged Messenger from Heaven,
Unto the white up-turned wand'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 this, and yet keep Silence? [Aside.

Jul.
'Tis but thy Name that is my Enemy:
What's in a Name? That which we call a Rose,
By any other Name wou'd smell as sweet;
So Romeo wou'd, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear Perfection which he owes,
Without that Title; Romeo, quit thy Name;
And for that Name, which is no Part of thee,
Take all my self.

Rom.
I take thee at thy Word:
Call me but thine, and Joys will so transport me,
I shall forget myself, and quite be chang'd.

Jul.
What Man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in Night,
So stumblest on my Counsel?

Romeo.
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.

Juliet.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Mountague?

Rom.
Neither, fair Saint, if either thee displease.

Jul.
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.

Rom.
With Love's light Wings did I o'erperch these Walls,
For stony Limits cannot hold Love out:
Thy angry Kinsmen are no Stop to me.

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

Rom.
Alas! there lies more Peril in thine Eye,
Than twenty of their Swords; look thou but kind,
And I am Proof against their Enmity.

Jul.
I wou'd not for the World they saw thee here.

Rom.
I have Night's Cloak to hide me from their Eyes,
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.

Jul.
By whose Direction found'st thou out this Place?

Rom.
By Love, that first did prompt me to enquire;
He lent me Counsel, and I lent him Eyes:
I am no Pilot, yet wer't thou as far
As that vast Shore, wash'd with the farthest Sea,
I wou'd adventure for such Merchandise.

Jul.
Thou know'st the Mask of Night is on my Face,
Else wou'd a Maiden-Blush bepaint my Cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak To-night.
Fain wou'd I dwell on Form; fain, fain deny
What I have spoke—But, farewell, Compliment!
Do'st thou love me? I know thou wilt say Aye;
And I will take thy Word—Yet if thou swear'st,

Thou may'st prove false—at Lover's Perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. Oh! gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if you think 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, sweet Mountague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my 'Haviour light:
But trust me, Gentleman, I'll prove more true,
Than those that have more cunning to be strange,
I shou'd have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'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 discover'd.

Rom.
Lady, by yonder blessed Moon I vow,
That tips with Silver all these Fruit-Tree Tops—

Jul.
Oh! swear not by the Moon, th'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;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Who art the God of my Idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom.
If my Heart's true Love—

Jul.
Well, do not swear—altho' 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 Light'ning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say it lightens—Sweet, Good-night.
This Bud of Love, by Summer's rip'ning 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.
Why wilt thou leave me so unsatisfy'd?

Jul.
What Satisfaction canst thou have To-night?

Rom.
The Exchange of thy Love's faithful Vow for mine.

Jul.
I gave thee mine before thou did'st request it:
And yet I wish it were to give again.

Romeo.
Wou'dst thou withdraw it? for what Purpose, Love?

Jul.
But to be frank, and give it thee again.
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 within.
What Juliet! Child!

Anon, good Nurse—Sweet Mountague be true:
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.

Rom.
O blessed! blessed Night! I am afraid,
All this is but a Dream I hear, and see;
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,
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 Love, throughout the World.

[Within.
Madam.

I come anon—But if thou mean'st 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 I will send.

Rom.
So thrive my Soul.

Jul.
A thousand times Good-night. [Exit Juliet.

Rom.
Ten thousand Blessings wait thy Innocence. [Exit Romeo. Re-enter Juliet above.

Jul.
Hist! Romeo, hist! O! for a Falkner's Voice,
To lure this Tassel gentle back again—
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud,
Else wou'd I tear the Cave where Eccho lies,

And make her airy Tongue more hoarse than mine,
With Repetition of my Romeo. Romeo returns.

Rom.
It is my Love that calls upon my Name;
How Silver-sweet sound Lovers Tongues by Night,
Like softest Musick to attending Ears!

Jul.
Romeo!

Rom.
My sweet!

Jul.
At what o'Clock To-morrow,
Shall I send to thee?

Rom.
By 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 farther than a Wanton's Bird,
That lets it hop a little from her Hand,
Like a poor Pris'ner in his twisted Gyves,
And with a Silk-Thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his Liberty.

Rom.
I wou'd I were thy Bird.

Jul.
Sweet, so wou'd I;
Yet I shou'd kill thee with too much cherishing.
Good-night, Good-night:—Parting is such sweet Sorrow,
That I shall say Good-night till it be Morrow. [Exit.

Rom.
To-morrow, 'tis no longer; but Desires are swift,
And longing Love wou'd lavish Time:
To-morrow! Oh! To-morrow! till that come
The tedious Hours move heavily away,
And each long Minute is a lazy Day. [Exit.

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