Scene I. An open place adjoining Capulet's Garden.

[Enter Romeo.]

Romeo. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

[He climbs the wall and leaps down within it.]

[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]

Benvolio. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!

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

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

Mercutio. Nay, I'll conjure too.-- Romeo! humours! madman! pa.s.sion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but 'Ah me!' p.r.o.nounce but Love and dove; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young auburn Cupid, he that shot so trim 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 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!

Benvolio. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

Mercutio. 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 spite: my invocation Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him.

Benvolio. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Mercutio. 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 As 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?

Benvolio. Go then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found.

[Exeunt.]

Scene II. Capulet's Garden.

[Enter Romeo.]

Romeo. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.-- [Juliet 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 far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick 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!-- 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 the heaven, Having some business, do entreat 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 in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were 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!

Juliet. Ah me!

Romeo. She speaks:-- O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering 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.

Juliet. 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.

Romeo. [Aside.] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Juliet. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;-- Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that t.i.tle:--Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

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

Juliet. 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. Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Juliet. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Romeo. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

Juliet. 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.

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

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

Romeo. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Juliet. I would not for the world they saw thee here.

Romeo. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; 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.

Juliet. By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

Romeo. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast sh.o.r.e wash'd with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.

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

Romeo. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,-- Juliet. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Romeo. What shall I swear by?

Juliet. Do not swear at all; Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the G.o.d of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee.

Romeo. If my heart's dear love,-- Juliet. Well, do not swear: although 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 lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say It lightens. Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening 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!

Romeo. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

Juliet. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

Romeo. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

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

Romeo. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

Juliet. 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.] Anon, good nurse!--Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.

[Exit.]

Romeo. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

[Enter Juliet above.]

Juliet. 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 lord, throughout the world.

Nurse. [Within.] Madam!

Juliet. I come anon.-- But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee,-- Nurse. [Within.] Madam!

Juliet. By-and-by I come:-- To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send.

Romeo. So thrive my soul,-- Juliet. A thousand times good night!

[Exit.]

Romeo. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light!-- Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, towards school with heavy looks.

[Retirong slowly.]

[Re-enter Juliet, above.]

Juliet. Hist! Romeo, hist!--O for a falconer's voice To lure this ta.s.sel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoa.r.s.e and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoa.r.s.e than mine With repet.i.tion of my Romeo's name.

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

Juliet. Romeo!

Romeo. My dear?

Juliet. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee?

Romeo. At the hour of nine.

Juliet. I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Romeo. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Juliet. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.

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

Juliet. '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 prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Romeo. I would I were thy bird.

Juliet. 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.]

Romeo. 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, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.

[Exit.]

Scene III. Friar Lawrence's Cell.

[Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket.]

Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and t.i.tan's fiery wheels: Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; What is her burying gave, that is her womb: And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find; Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities: For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give; Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed kings 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.]

Romeo. Good morrow, father!

Friar. Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?-- Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: Therefore thy earliness doth me a.s.sure Thou art uprous'd with some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right,-- Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Romeo. That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

Friar. G.o.d pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

Romeo. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

Friar. That's my good son: but where hast thou been then?

Romeo. 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 our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies; I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Friar. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

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

Friar. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here! Is Rosaline, that 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, what a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown 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 in mine ancient ears; Lo, here upon thy cheek 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 chang'd? p.r.o.nounce this sentence then,-- Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Romeo. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

Friar. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

Romeo. And bad'st me bury love.

Friar. Not in a grave To lay one in, another out to have.