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Rom. If I prophane with my unworthy hand [TO Juliet:
This holy shrine, the gentle 7'finel's 'bel this,
My lips two blushing pilgrims ready stand,
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shews in this ;
For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do,
They pray; grant thou, left faith turn to despair. • Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother?
[To ber Nurse.
Nurse. Marry, batchelor,
Her mother is the Lady of the house,
And a good Lady, and a wise and virtuous.
I nursid her daughter that you talk withal :
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
Shall have the chink.
Rom. Is she a Capulet ?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, fo I fear, the more is my unreft.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
We have a trilling foolish banquet towards.
Is it e'en so ? why then, I thank you all.
I thank you, honest gentlemen, good night :
More torches here come on, then let's to bed,
Ah, (a) - turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers sakc.
Rom. Then move not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine my fin is purg'd.
(Kiling her. Jul. Then have my lips the fin that late they took.
Rom. Sin from my lips! O trespass sweetly urg'd : Give me my lin again.
Ah, firrah, by my fay it waxes late.
I'll to my rest.
Ful. Come hither, nurse. What is yon gentleman ?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he that now is going out of door ?
Nurse. That as I think is young Petruchio.
Ful. What's he that follows here, that would not dance?
Nurse. I know not.
Ful. Go ask his name. If he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
The only son of your great enemy.
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen, unknown; and known too late ;
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse. What's this? what's this?
Ful. A rhime I learn'd e'en now of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet.
Nurse. Anon, anon-
Come, let's away, the strangers all are gone. (Exeunt.
Cho. Now old desire doth on his death-bed lye,
And young affection gapes to be his heir :
That Fair for which love groan'd sore and would die,
With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks : But to his foe suppos'd 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, Temp’ring extremities with extream sweet. [Exit.
A C T II. S C E N E I.
Enter Romeo alone.
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 ftol'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! paffion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a Sigh,
Speak but one Rhime, and I am satisfied,
Cry but Ab me ! couple but love and dove,
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name to her pur-blind fon and heir,
(Young Abraham a Cupid, he that shot so true,
When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid )
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he 9'moves' not,
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high fore-head, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demearns that there adjacent lye,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Ben. And 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 fit under a medlar-tree,
And with 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.
S CE NE II.
Rom. I IE jests at scars that never felt a wound
1 But, foft! what light thro' yonder window
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! [breaks?
[Juliet appears above at a window. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair chan fhe. Be not her maid Gince she is envious : Her vestal livery is but fick and green, And none but fools do wear it; cast it off — 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 of all the heav'n,
Having some business, do 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 day-light doch a lamp ; her eyes in heav'n
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would fing, 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!
Jul. Anmelouch that chatnat hand,
Rom. She speaks.
Oh, speak again, bright angel, for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger from heav'n,
Unto the white upturned wondring eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails 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 more, or shall I speak at this? [Afide.
Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy :
i/Thou’rt not thy self so, though a Mountague.'
What's Mountague? it is not hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face nor any other part.
What's in a name? that which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.
So Romco would, 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. 1 Thou art thy felf, though not a Mountague,