PROLOGUE. Enter Chorus.

Chor. ^note
Now old desire doth in ^note his death-bed lie,
  And young affection gapes to be his heir;
That fair for which ^note love groan'd for ^note and would die,
  With tender Juliet match'd ^note, is now not fair.
Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
  Alike bewitched by the charm of looks,
But to his foe supposed he must complain,
  And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
Being held a foe, he may not have access
  To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
And she as much in love, her means much less
  To meet her new beloved any where:
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,
Tempering ^note extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. ^{note note} Scene I. [Footnote: A lane ^note by the wall of Capulet's orchard. Enter Romeo, alone.

Rom.
Can I go forward when my heart is here?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy ^note centre ^note out. [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it. ^note Enter Benvolio with Mercutio.

Ben.
Romeo! my ^note cousin Romeo ^note!

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

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

Mer.
Nay, I'll conjure too. ^note
Romeo! ^note humours! madman! passion! lover! ^note
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh ^note:
Speak but one rhyme ^note, and I am satisfied;
Cry but ‘ay me!’ ^note pronounce ^note but ‘love’ and ‘dove ^note;’
Speak to my gossip ^note Venus one fair word ^note,
One nick-name for ^note her purblind son and heir ^note,
Young Adam Cupid ^note, he that shot so trim ^note

When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid ^note!
He heareth not, he stirreth ^note not, he moveth ^note not;
The ape is dead, and ^note I must conjure him.
I conjure thee ^note by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

Ben.
An ^note if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

Mer.
This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress' ^note circle
Of some strange nature, letting it there ^note stand
Till she had laid it and conjured it down;
That were some spite: my invocation
Is fair and honest ^note, and in ^note his mistress' name ^note
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben.
Come, he hath hid himself among these ^note trees,
To be consorted with the humorous 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 ^note kind of fruit
As ^note maids call medlars ^note when they laugh alone.
O, Romeo, that she were, O, ^note that she were
An open et cetera, thou ^note a poperin pear! ^note

Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too ^note 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. ^note [Exeunt. ^{note note} Scene II. [Footnote: Capulet's orchard. ^note Enter Romeo. ^note

Rom.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound. [Juliet ^note appears above at a window.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art ^note far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick ^note and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady; O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were ^{note note}!
She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all ^note the heaven,
Having some business, do ^note intreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes ^note in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were ^note not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Jul.
Ay ^note me!

Rom.
She speaks:
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night ^note, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of ^note heaven
Unto the white-upturned ^note wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing ^note clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul.
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? ^note
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. [Aside ^note]
Shall I hear ^note more, or shall I speak at this?

Jul.
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague ^note.
What's Montague? it is nor hand ^note, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a ^note man. O, be some other name! ^note
What's in a name? ^note that which we call a rose
By any other name ^note would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were ^note he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, ^note doff ^note thy name,
And for thy name ^note, which is no part of thee, ^note
Take all myself.

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

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

Rom.
By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am: ^note
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 yet not ^note drunk a hundred words
Of thy tongue's uttering ^note, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom.
Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike ^note.

Jul.
How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? ^note
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen ^note find thee here.

Rom.
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls ^note,
For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let ^note to me.

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

Rom.
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: 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 eyes ^note;
And ^note 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 ^note, that ^note first did prompt ^note me to inquire;
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot ^note; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash'd ^note with the farthest ^note sea,
I would ^note adventure for such merchandise.

Jul.
Thou know'st ^note the mask of night is on ^note 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 ^note!
Dost thou love me? I ^note know thou wilt say ‘Ay,’
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst ^note prove false: at lover's perjuries, ^note
They say, Jove laughs ^note. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st ^note 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 mayst ^note think my 'haviour ^note light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning ^note to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's ^note passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

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

Jul.
O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant ^note moon,
That monthly changes in her circled ^note 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,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom.
If my heart's dear ^note love— ^note

Jul.
Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, ^note
I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ^note,
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say ‘It lightens. ^note’ Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, ^note
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?

Rom.
The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine ^note.

Jul.
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom.
Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? ^note

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.
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! [Nurse calls within. ^note
Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.

Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. ^note

Rom.
O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard ^note,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet ^note to be substantial. Re-enter Juliet, above. ^note

Jul.
Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. ^note
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 ^note,
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
And follow thee my lord ^note throughout the world.

Nurse. [Within ^note]
Madam!

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

Nurse. [Within ^note]
Madam!

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

Rom.
So thrive my soul,— ^note

Jul.
A thousand times good night! [Exit. ^note

Rom.
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light ^note.
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward ^note school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly. ^note

Re-enter ^note Juliet, above.

Jul.
Hist! Romeo, hist!—O, for a falconer's voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle ^note back again!
Bondage is hoarse, and may not ^note speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue ^note more hoarse than mine
With ^note repetition of my Romeo's name ^note.
Romeo! ^{note note}

Rom.
It is my soul ^note that calls upon my name:
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!

Jul.
Romeo!

Rom.
My dear? ^note

Jul.
At what ^note o' ^note clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?

Rom.
At ^note the hour of nine.

Jul.
I will not fail: 'tis twenty years ^note 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 ^note have thee ^note still stand ^note there,
Remembering how I love thy company.

Rom.
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home ^note but this.

Jul.
'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:

And yet no farther ^note than a wanton's bird,
Who lets it hop a ^note little from her ^note hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again ^note,
So loving-jealous ^note 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. ^note

Rom.
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ^note,
His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. ^note [Exit. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: Friar Laurence's cell. ^note Enter ^note Friar Laurence, with a basket.

Fri. L.
The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
Chequering ^note the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness ^note like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path and Titan's fiery ^note wheels: ^note

Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill ^note this osier cage of ours
With baleful ^note weeds and precious-juiced ^note flowers.
The earth that's nature's mother is ^note her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb:
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find,
Many for many virtues ^note excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In herbs, plants ^note, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to ^note the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling ^note on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometime's by action ^note dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small ^note flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine ^note power:
For this, being smelt, with that part ^note cheers each part,
Being tasted, slays ^note all senses ^note with the heart.
Two such opposed ^note kings ^note encamp them still

In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. Enter Romeo. ^note

Rom.
Good morrow, father.

Fri. L.
Benedicite ^note!
What early tongue so sweet ^note saluteth me ^note?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd ^note head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges ^note, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised ^note youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou art up-roused by some ^note distemperature;
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. L.
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. L.
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 ^note our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies:

I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri. L.
Be plain, good son, and ^note homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

Rom.
Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter ^note of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combined, 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 ^note as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Fri. L.
Holy Saint ^note Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, that ^note 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 ^note, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow ^note cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown ^note away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet ^note in mine ^note ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek ^note 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,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
And art thou changed? pronounce this ^note sentence ^note then:
Women may fall when there's no strength in men.

Rom.
Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

Fri. L.
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

Rom.
And bad'st me bury love.

Fri. L.
Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another ^note out to have.

Rom.
I pray thee ^note, chide not: she whom I ^note love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

Fri. L.
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote and could ^note not spell.
But come, young waverer, come, go ^note with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour ^note to pure love.

Rom.
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

Fri. L.
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: A street. ^note Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.

Mer.

Where ^note the devil ^note should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?

Ben.
Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. ^note

Mer.
Ah ^note, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,
Torments him so that he will sure run mad ^note.

Ben.
Tybalt, the kinsman ^note to ^note old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house ^note.

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 ^note thorough ^note the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. ^note

Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer.

More than prince ^note of cats, I can tell you. O ^note, he's ^note the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song ^note, keeps time, distance and proportion; rests me his minim rest ^note, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very ^note butcher of a silk button, a duellist ^note, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai! ^note

Ben.

The what?

Mer.

The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting ^note fantasticoes ^note; these new tuners ^note of accents ^note! ‘By Jesu ^note, a very good

blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!’ Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi's ^note, who stand so much on the new form that they ^note cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones ^note!

Ben.

Here comes Romeo ^note, here comes Romeo.

Mer.

Without his roe, like a dried herring: O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch ^note flowed in: Laura to his lady was but ^note a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings ^note and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not ^note to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour ^note! there's a French salutation to your French slop ^note. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night ^note.

Rom.

Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mer.

The slip, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

Rom.

Pardon, good ^note Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy ^note.

Mer.

That's as much as to say, Such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom.

Meaning, to court'sy ^note.

Mer.

Thou hast most kindly hit it.

Rom.

A most courteous ^note exposition.

Mer.

Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

Rom.

Pink for flower.

Mer.

Right.

Rom.

Why, then is my pump well flowered.

Mer.

Well said: ^note follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely ^note singular.

Rom.

O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness ^note!

Mer.

Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint ^note.

Rom.

Switch and spurs, switch ^note and spurs; or I'll ^note cry a match ^note.

Mer.

Nay, if thy wits ^note run the wild-goose ^note chase, I have ^note done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose ^note in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the goose?

Rom.

Thou wast ^note never with me for any thing when thou wast not there for the goose.

Mer.

I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

Rom.

Nay, good goose, bite not.

Mer.

Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ^note; it is a most sharp sauce ^note.

Rom.

And is it not well ^note served in to ^note a sweet goose?

Mer.

O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!

Rom.

I stretch it out for that word ‘broad;’ which added to the goose, proves thee ^note far and wide a broad ^note goose.

Mer.

Why, is not this better now ^note than groaning for love? now art thou sociable ^note, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide ^note his bauble ^note in a hole.

Ben.

Stop there, stop there.

Mer.

Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

Ben.

Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

Mer.

O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: for ^note I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer ^note.

Rom.

Here's goodly gear!