Nurfe. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother? Nurfe. Marry, batchelor, Her mother is the Lady of the house, Rom. Is fhe a Capulet? [To ber Nurfe O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. I'll to my reft. [Exeunt. Jul. Come hither, nurfe. What is yon gentleman? Nurfe. The fon and heir of old Tiberio. Jul. What's he that now is going out of door? Nurfe. That as I think is young Petruchio. Jul. What's he that follows here, that would not dance? Nurfe. I know not. Jul. Go afk his name. If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. Nurfe. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague, The only fon of your great enemy.. Jul. My only love fprung from my only hate! Thus from my lips by thine my fin is purg'd. Jul. You kils by th' book. [Kiffing her. Ful. Ful. A rhime I learn'd e'en now Of one I danc'd withal. Nurfe. Anon, anon [One calls within,' Juliet. Come, let's away, the strangers all are gone. Enter Chorus. [Exeunt. Cho. Now old defire doth on his death-bed lye, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks: And the fteal love's fweet bait from fearful hooks. Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe fuch vows as lovers use to swear; But paffion lends them power, time means to meet, Rom. [Exit YAN I go forward when my heart is here? CA Enter Benvolio with Mercutio. Ben. Romeo, my coufin Romeo! Mer. He is wife, And, on my life, hath fol'n him home to bed. [Exit 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! Speak but one Rhime, and I am fatisfied. (Young (Young Abraham* Cupid, he that shot so true, Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Of fome ftrange nature, letting it there stand up him. Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be conforted with the hum'rous night: Blind is his love, and beft befits the dark. Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. And with his miftrefs were that kind of fruit, Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain To feek him here that means not to be found. SCENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter Romeo. [Exeunt. Rom. He jefts at fcars that never felt a woundBut foft! what light thro' yonder window breaks? It is the eaft, and Juliet is the fun! [Juliet appears above at a window. Arife, fair fun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already fick and pale with grief This, probably, was a name ftupidly given to Cupid in the old ballad here referr'd to of King Cophesus and the beggar maid. That That thou, her maid, art far more fair than the. Her veftal livery is but fick and green, And none but fools do wear it; caft it off→→→ I am too bold, 'tis not to me the fpeaks: Rom. She fpeaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel, for thou art Jul O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Romeo F Or if thou wilt not, be but fworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I fpeak at this? [Afide. Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: 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 rofe, By any other name would fmell as fweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, C 2 Without Without that title; Romeo, quit thy name, Rom. I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd, Jul. What man art thou, that thus befcreen'd in night So ftumbleft on my counsel? Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the found. Art thou not Romeo, and a Mouniague? Rom. Neither, fair faint, if either thee dislike. And the place death, confidering who thou art, Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls, For ftony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt: ful. If they do fee thee, they will murder thee. Jul. I would not for the world they faw 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 whofe direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, that firft did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes: I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far As that vaft shore wash'd with the farthest sea, Jul. |