Fri.
The grey-ey'd Morn smiles on the frowning Night,
Check'ring the Eastern Clouds with Streaks of Light.
Now, ere the Sun advance his burning Eye,
The Day to cheer, and Night's dank Dew to dry,
I must fill up this Osier Cage of ours,
With baleful Weeds, and precious juicy Flowers.
Mighty is the powerful Grace that lies
In Herbs, Trees, Stones, and their true Qualities:
For nought so vile that on the Earth doth live,
But to the Earth some special Good doth give:
Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that fair Use,
Revolts to Vice, and stumbles on Abuse. Enter Romeo.

Rom.
Good-morrow, Father.

Fri.
Benedicite!
What early Tongue so sweet salutes my Ear?
Young Son, it argues a distemper'd Head,
So soon to bid Good-morrow;
Care keeps his Watch in every old Man's Eye,
And where Care lodgeth Sleep will rarely come;
But where Youth with unstuff'd Brain doth couch
His Limbs, there Health will hold his Court.
Say, Romeo, hast thou been in Bed To-night?

Rom.
No, Father; yet the sweeter Rest was mine.

Fri.
Where hast thou been?

Rom.
I have been feasting with my Enemy,
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our Remedies
Within thy Help, and holy Physick lies:
I bear no Hatred, blessed Man, for know,
My Intercession likewise steads my Foe.

Fri.
Be plain, good Son, and homely in thy Drift;
Riddling Confession finds but riddling Shrift.

Rom.
Then plainly know my Heart's dear Love is fix'd
On the fair Daughter of rich Capulet,
And her's on mine:—When, and where, and how
We met, we woo'd, and did our Vows exchange,
Shall be related to thee instantly;
So thou consent to marry us this Day.

Fri.
Romeo, I love thee well: Come in with me:
With this good View, I'll thy Assistant be;
For this Alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your Houshold Rancour to pure Love.

Rom.
Quick let us hence; for Love is still in haste.

Fri.
Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast. [Exeunt.

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