ACT II.

Romeo, struck with the beauty and character of Juliet, forgets his "Rosaline." H disengages himself from Mercutio and Benvolio, and enters Capulet's garden, to see} an interview with Juliet.

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:
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 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!

Jul.

Rom.

Ah me!

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.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Jul. "Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;

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,

¡Aside.

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 baptized;

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.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound;
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'er-perch 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, 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: 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 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 may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. ), 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 1 ay.
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❜havior 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 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 self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee.

Rom.

If my heart's dear loveJul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy in 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!

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.
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?
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!

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

Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,

Being in night, all this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

[Nurse calls within

[Exit

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed,

If that thy bent of love be honorable

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.

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

Nurse. [Within.] Madam.

Jul.

By and by, I come :

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

Rom.

So thrive my soul,-
Jul. A thousand times good night!
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 looks.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

[Exr

[Retiring slowly.

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-O, for a falconer's voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!

Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where echo lies,

And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.

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

Rom.

Jul. I will not fail;

At what o'clock to-morrow

At the hour of nine.
'tis twenty years 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 have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company.

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

Jul. "Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;

Who 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.

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

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;

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

Exit

SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket.

Fri. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light:

Now 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.
O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought 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 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.

Rom. Good morrow, father!

Benedicite!

Fri.
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 lims, there golden sleep doth reign.
Therefore thy eariness 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.