That I have worn a visor; and could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, uch as would please;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians, play.

'tis gone:

A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. [Music plays, and they dance. More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.

Ah, Sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much; 'tis not so much:

"Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we

mask'd.

bright!

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop'st ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows,
The measure done, I'll watch her place of
stand,
[hand.
And, touching hers, make happy my rude
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Mont-
ague:-
[slave
Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What! dares the
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

1 Cup. Why, how now kinsman? wherefore storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;, A villain, that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night. 1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?

Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

He bears him like a portly gentleman; [alone,
1 Cap Content thee, gentle coz, let him
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement:
I. c. Make room.

+ An Ethiopian, a back.

The dance.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest; I'll not endure him. Ito;

What, goodman boy!--I say, he shall-Go
1 Cap. He shall be endur'd:
You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my
Am I the master here, or you? go to. [soul-
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

what.

You are saucy boy :-Is't so, indeed?—
1 Cap. Go to, go to,
This trick may chance to scath* you;-I know
Well said, my hearts:-You are a princox:+
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time—
[shame!-
Be quiet, or-More light, more light, for
I'll make you quiet; What!-Cheerly, my

go:

hearts.

Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler

meeting, (ing. Makes my flesh tremble in their different greet I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

[Exit.

Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand [TO JULIET.

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is 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 shows in this; For saints have bands that pilgrims' hands

do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palm

ers 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, lest faith turn to despair.

Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's ef

fect I take.

Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her.

Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly Give me my sin again.

Jul. You kiss by the book.

[urg'a

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse. Marry, bachelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,

And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:

I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;

I tell you, he, that can lay hold of her,

Shall have the chinks.

dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Rom. Is she a Capulet? Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best. Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. 1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;

We have a trifling 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. [late; Ah, Sirrah, [To 2 CAp.] by my fay, it waxes I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and NURSE.

Jul. 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. Marry, that, I think, be young Pe

truchio.

Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance?

Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go, ask his name:-if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a MontaThe only son of your great enemy. [gue; 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?
Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now
Of one I danc'd withal.

[One calls within, Juliet!

Nurse. Anon, anon:Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. [Exeunt.

Enter CHORUS.

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair, which love groan'd for, 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
To meet her new-beloved any where: [less
But passion lends them power, time means to
meet,

Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet.

ACT II.

[Exit.

Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
Cry but-Ah me! couple but-love and dore;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-
maid.*-

He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;
The apet 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.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger

him.

Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle [him 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.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those 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 Now will he sit under a medlar tree, [mark. 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?

Ben. Go, then; for 'us in vain

To seek him here, that means not to be found. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-CAPULET'S Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. 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!-
[that?
She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of
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 eye 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!

Alluding to the old ballad of the F. and the Beggar. This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an expression of tenderness. 1 Humyl moist. A votary to the moon, to Diana.

Jul. Ah me!

Rom. 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 wond'ring 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.

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.

this?

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at
[Aside.
Jul. "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 title:-Romeo, doff' thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

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

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night,

So stumblest on my counsel ?

Rom. 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.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred
words

[sound; Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

Jul. 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.

Rom. 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.

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

Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, [sweet, Then twenty of their swords; look thou but 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 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.
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out
this place?

Rom. By love, who first 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 vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on
my face;

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.

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 may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st 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 may'st think my haviour⭑
light:

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be [fess,

strange.t

I should have been more strange, I must conBut that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware, My true love's passion: therefore pardon me; And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,— Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled 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 seif,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in I have no joy of this contract to-night: [thee, 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

night, indeed.

[well,

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my soul,-
Jl. A thousand times good night!

[Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy light.

Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from

their books;

But love from love, toward school with heavy [Retiring slowly.

looks.

Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My sweet!

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee?

Rom. At the hour of nine.

SCENE III.-Friar LAURENCE's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a Basket. Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frownCheckering the eastern clouds with streaks of ing night, (light;

From forth day's path-way, made by Titan'st And flecked" darkness like a drunkard reels

wheels:

Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced
I must fill up this osier cage of ours, [flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is 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 excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace,‡ that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true quali-
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
Nor aught so good, but strain'd from that fair
But to the earth some special good doth give;

ties:

use,

Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers
each part;

Being tasted slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes 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.
father!

Rom. Good morrow, Fri. Benedicite!

then.

brain

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
[reign:
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature;
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. 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. 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; That's by me wounded; both our remedies Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, Within thy help and holy physic lies: I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. drift; Rom. 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; [bine
And ail combin'd save what thou must com-
By holy marriage: When, and where, and
how,
[vow,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us this day.
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is
here!

Is Rosaline, whom 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 my 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? pronounce this sentence
then-
[men.
Women may fall, when there's no strength in
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosa-
line.

Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'st me bury love.
Fri. Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I

love now,

Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;

The other did not so.

Fri. O, she knew well,

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden
haste.*

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

that Rosaline,

Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
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 thorough 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. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, *e. It is of the utmost consequence for me to be hasty. + Arrow. 1 See the story of Reynard the Fox. By notes pricked down.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, 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 flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench; -mariy, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.-Signier Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

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

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.

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous 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: 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 singular.

Rom. O single-soled¶ jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits fail.

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

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chace, I have done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose 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 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;t it is a most sharp sauce.

Terms of the fencing school.

+ In ridicule of Frenchified coxcombs.

1 Trowsers or pantaloons, a French fashion in Shak speare's time.

A pun on counterfeit money called slips.
II Shoe.
Slight, thin.

**A norse race in any direction the leader chooses to take. tt An apple.