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legs;

In fhape no bigger than an agate ftone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart men's notes as they lie afleep:
Her waggon fpokes made of long-fpinners'
The cover, of the wings of grafshoppers;
The traces, of the fmalleft fpider's web;
The collars, of the moonfhine's wat'ry beams:
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film:
Her waggoner, a fmall grey-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm,
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner fquirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this ftate fhe gallops night by night,
Thro' lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
On courtiers' knees, that dream on curtes
ftraight;

O'er lawyers' fingers, who ftraight dream on fees;
O'er ladies' lips, who ftraight on kiffes dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with fweetmeats tainted are.
Sometime the gallops o'er a courtier's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit:
And fometimes comes the with a tythe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parfon's nofe as a lies afleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime the driveth o'er a foldier's neck,
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horfes in the night;
And bakes the elf-locks in foul fluttith hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is the

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk ft of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams:
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain phantafy;
Which is as thin of fubftance as the air;
And more inconftant than the wind, who woos
Ev'n now the frozen bofom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.
A Beauty described.

O, the doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It feems the hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's car:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So thews a fhowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows fhews.

The Courtship between Romeo and Juliet in the

Garden.

Enter Romeo.

It is the eaft, and Juliet is the fun!

[Fuliet appears above at the window.
Arife, fair fun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already fick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than fhe,
Be not her maid, fince the is envious;
Her veftal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; caft it off-
She fpeaks, yet the fays nothing; what of that?
Her eye difcourfes, I will anfwer it.

I am too bold, 'tis not to me the speaks:
Two of the faircft ftars in all the heaven,
Having fome business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightnefs of her cheek would fhame thefe
ftars,

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven,
Would thro' the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would fing, and think it were not
night.

See, how the leans her cheek upon her hand Į
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She fpeaks

O, fpeak again, bright ange!! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged meffenger of heaven
Unto the white upturned wond'ring eves
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he beftrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bofom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo !—wherefore art thou
Romeo?

Deny thy father, and refufe thy name:
Or, if thou wilt not, be but fworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

this >

Rom. Shall I hear more, or thall I speak at
{ Afidc,
Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy-

What's in a name? that which we call a rofe,
By any other name would finell as fweet;
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.

J. What man art thou, that, thus befcreen'd
in night,

So ftumbleft on my counfel?

Rom. By a name

I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear faint, is hateful to myself,
Because is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred

words

Of that tongue's utte ance, yet I know the found; Rom. He jefts at fcars, that never felt a wound-Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

But, foft! what light thro' yonder window bro-ku

Rem. Neither, fair faint, if either thee difles.
Tt
Ja'.

Jul. How cam'ft thou hither? tell me, and | It is too rafh, too unadvis'd, too fudden;

wherefore?

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; And the place death, confidering who thou art, If any of my kinfmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch thefe walls;

For ftony limits cannot hold love out :
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinfmen are no let to me.

Jul. If they do fee thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their fwords; look thou but fweet, 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 fight.

And, but thou love me, let them find me here;
My life were better ended by their hate,
Ta death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whofe direction found'ft thou out this
place?
[quire;
Rom. By love, that firft did prompt me to en-
He lent me counfel, and 1 lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far

As that vaft fhore wafh'd with the fartheft fea,
I would adventure for fuch merchandize.

Jul. Thou know'ft, the mask of night is on my

face; Elfe would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou haft heard me fpeak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny What I have fpoke; but farewel, compliment! Doft thou love me? I know thou wilt fay Ay, And I will take thy word:-yet, if thou fwear'ft, Thou mayft prove falfe; at lovers' perjuries, They fay, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou doft love, pronounce it faithfully: Or, if thou think't I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverfe, and fay thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but elfe not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayft think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than thofe that have more cunning to be strange. I fhould have been more ftrange, I must confefs, But that thou overheard'ft, ere I was 'ware, My true love's paflion: therefore pardon me; And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath fo difcovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow, That tips with filver all thefe fruit-tree topsJul. O fwear not by the moon, th' inconftant

moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Left that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What fhall I swear by ?

Jul. Do not fwear at all

Cr, if thou wilt, fwear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rem. If my heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not fwear: altho' I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night;

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can fay, it lightens-fweet, good-night! This bud of love, by fummer's ripening breath, May prove a beautcous flow'r when next we meet. Good-night, good-night!-as fweet repofe and reft Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!

Rom. O, wilt thou leave me fo unfatisfied? ful. What fatisfaction canft thou have tonight?

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

Jul. Igave 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 fea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. I hear fome noife within; dear love, adieu! [Nurfe calls within. Anon, good nurfe!-Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. Rom. O bleffed, bleffed night! I am afeard, All this is but a dream I hear and fee; Too flattering fweet to be fubftantial. Re-enter Juliet above.

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

If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, fend 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.
[Within: Madam!]

I come anon- -But if thou mean'st not well,
I do befeech thee-[Within: Madam !] By and
by I come-

To ceafe thy fuit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I fend.

Rom. So thrive my foul.

[Exit.

ful. A thousand times good-night! Rom. A thousand times the worfe to want thy light.

Enter Juliet again. Jul. Hift! Romeo! hift! O, for a faulconer's voice,

To lure this taffel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarfe, and may not fpeak aloud;
Elfe would I tear the cave where Echo lies,

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

Rom. It is my foul that calls upon my name: How filver sweet found lovers' tongues by night, Like fofteft mufic to attending ears! Jul. Romeo!

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Rom. Let me ftand here till thou remember it.
Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Rememb'ring how I love thy company.
Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee ftill forget,
Forgetting any other home but this. [gone:
Jul. 'Tis almoft morning, I would have thee
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prifoner in his twifted gyves,
And with a filk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, fo would I;

Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing. Good-night, good-night! Parting is fuch tweet forrow,

That I fhall fay good-night, till it be morrow.

Love's Heralds.

[Exit.

Love's heralds fhould be thoughts, Which ten times fafter glide than the fun-beams, Driving back hadows over lowering hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-fwift Cupid wings. Violent Delights not lafling.

Thefe violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph dic; like fire and powder, Which, as they kifs, confume.

Lovers light of Foot.

O, fo light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may beftride the golfamours,
That idle in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall; fo light is vanity.

A Lover's Impatience.

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, To Phoebus' manfion; fuch a waggoner As Phaeton would whip you to the weft, And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy clofe curtain, love-performing night! That run-aways' eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unfeen! Lovers can fee to do their am'rous rites By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, It beft agrees with night.

Romeo, on bis Banishment.

Rom. Ha! banishment' be merciful, fay death:
For exile hath more terror in his look
Than death, much more: do not fay banishment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banifned, is banifh'd from the world,
And world's exile is death; then banishment
Is death misterm'd: calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'ft my head off with a golden axe,
And fmil'ft upon the ftroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness !
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rufh'd afide the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou feeft it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
And little moufe, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may feize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal bleffing from her lips;
But Romeo may not, he is banithed!
Hadft thou no poifon mix'd, no fharp-ground knife,
No fudden mean of death, though ne'er fo mean,
But-banished-to kill me; banished?

O friar, the damned ufe that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how haft thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghoftly conteffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profest,
To mangle me with that word-banifhment?
Fri. Thou fond madınan, hear me but speak a
word.

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment!
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished? hang up philofophy! Unlefs philofophy can make a Julict, It helps not, it prevails not; talk no more. Difplant a town, reverfe a prince's doom, Fri. O then I fee that madmen have no cars. Rom. How fhould they, when that wife men have no eyes?

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate. Rom. Thou canit not speak of what thou doft

not feel:

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then might it thou speak, then might'st thou tear
thy hair,

And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the meafure of an unmade grave.

Juliet's Chamber, looking to the Garden. Enter Romeo and Juliet above at a window; a ladder of ropes fet.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly fhe fings on yon pomegranate-tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious ftreaks Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder eaft: Night's candies are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the mifty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or itay and die.

ful. Yon light is not day-light, I know it; It is fome meteor that the fun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore ftay yet, thou need'ft not to be gone.

Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, fo thou wilt have it fo. I'll fay yon grey is not the morning's eye, Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia s brow ; T: 2

Nor

Nor that is not the lark, whofe notes do beat
The vaulty heaven fo high above our heads.
I have more care to fty, than will to go.
Come death, and welcome' Juliet wills it fo.-
How is 't, my foul? let's talk, it is not day.

Juliet's Refolution.

O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievith ways; or bid me lurk
Where ferpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or fhut me nightly in a charnel-houfe;
O'ercover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With recky thanks and yellow chapless fkulls;
And hide me with a dead man in his throud-
Things that to hearthemtold have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unftain'd wife to my sweet love.

Juliet's Soliloquy on drinking the Potion.
Farewel-God knows, whenwe fhall meet again!
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almoft freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me.-
Nurie! what fhould fhe do here?
My difmal fcene I needs must act alone:
Come, phial-what if this mixture do not work

at all!

Muft I of force be married to the County?
No, no! this fhall forbid it-lie thou there.
[Pointing to a dagger.
What if it be a poifon, which the friar
Subtly hath minifter'd, to have me dead;
Left in this marriage he fhould be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is; and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath ftill been tried a holy man :
I will not entertain fo bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeem me the e's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be ftifled in the vault,

[in.

Upon a rapier's point!-Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romco, 1 come! this do I drink to thee.

[She throws berfelf on the bed.

Foy and Mirth turned to their Contraries.
All things that we ordained feftival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our inftruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a fad burial feaft;
Our folemn hymns to fullen dirges change;
And all things change them to the contrary.
Our bridal flow'rs ferve for a buried corfe,

Romeo's Defcription of, and Difcourfe with, the
Apothecary.

We'l, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's fee for means:-O mifchief! thou art fwife
To enter in the thoughts of defperate men!
I do remember an apothecary-

And hereabouts he dwells-whom late I noted
În tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of fimples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp mifery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy fhop a tortoife hung,
An alligator ftuft, and other skins

Of ill-thap'd fhes; and about his fhelves
A beggaily account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and mufty feeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rofes,
Were thinly fcatter'd to make up a fhow.
Noting this penury, to myfelf I faid-
And if a man did need a poifon now,
Whofe fale is prefent death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.
O, this fame thought did but fore-run my need;
And this fame needy man muft fell it me.
As I remember, this fhould be the house.
Being holy-day, the beggar's fhop is fhut.
What, ho! apothecary!

Enter Apothecary.

Ap Who calls fo loud?

[poor;

Rom. Come hither, man. fee that thou art.

To whofe foul mouth no healthsome air breathes | Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have

And there die ftrangled ere my Romeo comes?

Or, if I live, is it not very like

The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place-
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for thefe many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where blody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies feft'ring in his fhroud; where, as they fay,
At fome hours in the night fpirits refort-
Alack! alack! is it not like that I

So erly waking-what with loathfome fmells;
And thi ks, like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad—
O! if I wake, fhall I not be dittraught,
Invironed with all thefe hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybait from his throud?
And, in this rage, with feme great kindman's bone,
As with a club, dash out iny despʼrate brains ?
O look' methinks I fee my cousin's ghot
Secking out Romeo, that did ipit his body

A dram of peifon; fuch foon-fpeeding geer,
As will dif, erfe itfelf through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be difcharg'd of breath
As violently, as hafty powder tir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou fo bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear ft to die? famine is in thy checks;
Need and oppreflion tarveth in thy eyes;
Upon thy back hangs ragged mifery;
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law,
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, confents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the ftrength
Of twenty men, it would difpatch you ftraight.
Rom. There is thy gold; wolfe poifon to men's

fouls,

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Good gentle youth, tempt not a defp'rate man;
Fay hence and leave me-think upon thefe gone;
Let them affright thee. I befcech thee, youth,
Heap not another fin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myfelf;
For I come hither arm'd against myself.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations,
And do attach thee as a felon here.

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy. [They fight, Paris falls. Par. O, I am flain! if thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

[Dies.

Rom. In faith I will let me perufe this face. Mercutio's kinfman, noble County Paris:What faid my man, when my betoffed foul Did not attend him as we rode ?-I think He told me, Paris fhould have married Juliet: Said he not fo? or did I dream it fo? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, To think it was fo?-O, give me thy hand, One writ with me in four misfortune's book !

Romeo's laft Speech over Juliet in the Vault.
O my love! my wife!

Death, that hath fuck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's enlign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.-
Tybalt, lieft thou there in thy bloody fheet?
O, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To funder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, coufin!-Ah, dear Juliet!
Why art thou yet fo fair? fhall I believe
That unfubitantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I will ftill ftay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here will I remain,
With worms that are thy chambermaids-O, here
Will I fet up my everlasting rest;

And thake the yoke of inaufpicious ftars [laft!
From this world-wearied fieth. Eyes, look your
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, feal with a righteous kifs
A datelefs bargain to engroting death!-
Come, bitter conduct! come, unfav'ry guide!
Thou defp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy fea-fick, weary bark !

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A faithful Steward.

So the gods blefs me,

When all our offices have been oppreft
With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
With drunken fpilth of wine, when every room
Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'dwith minstrelfy;
I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock,
And fet mine eyes at flow.

The Ingratitude of Timon's Friends.
They anfwer, in a joint and corporate voice,
That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot
Do what they would; are forry-you are ho
nourable-

But yet they could have wifh'd-they know not-
Something hath been amifs-a noble nature
May catch a wrench-would all were well-'tis
pity-

And, fo, intending other serious matters,
After diftafteful looks, and thefe hard fractions,
With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods,
They fioze me into filence.

Tim. You gods, reward them!-
Pr'ythee, man, look cheerly: thefe old fellows
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it feldom flows;
'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind;
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
Is fafhion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy.
Against Duelling.

Your words have took fuch pains, as if they labour'd

[ling To bring manflaughter into form, and fet quarrelUpon the head of valour; which, indeed, Is valour miíbegot, and came into the world, When fects and factions were but newly born. He's truly valiant, that can wifely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs [lefsly;

His outfides; to wear them, like his raiment, careTt3 And

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