Ti. Why vncle, tis a fhame.

Capu. Go too, go too,

You are a fawcy boy, ift fo indeed?

This tricke may chance to scath you I know what,

You must contrary me, marry tis time,

Well faid my hearts, you are a princox, goe,
Be quiet, or more light, more light for sbame,
Ile make you quiet (what) chearely my hearts.

Ti. Patience perforce, with willfull choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting:
I will withdraw but this intrusion shal

Now feeming fweete, conuert to bitter gall.

Rɔ. If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand,
This holy fhrine, the gentle fin is this,
My lips two blushing pylgrims did ‡ ready ftand,
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kisse.

Iu. Good pilgrime you do wrong your hand too much
Which mannerly deuotion fhewes in this,

For faints haue hands, that pilgrims hands dce tuch,
And palme to palme is holy palmers kiffe.

Ro. Haue not faints lips and holy palmers too?
Iuli. I pilgrim, lips that they muft vse in prayer.
Rom. O then deare faint, let lips doe what hands doe,
They pray (grant thou) leaft faith turne to difpaire.

Exit.

Ju. Saints doe not moue, though grant for prayers fake.
Ro. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take,
Thus from my lips, by thine my fin is purgd.

Iu. Then haue my lips the fin that they haue tooke.
Ro. Sin from my lips, O trefpas fweetly vrgd:

Giue me my fin againe.

Juli. You kiffe bith booke.

Nur. Madam your mother craues a word with you.

more light, &c. in a parenthefis.

did omitted.

Rom.

Rom. What is her mother?

Nurf. Marrie batcheler,

Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good ladie, and a wife and vertuous,
I nurft her daughter that you talkt withall:
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her,
Shall haue the chincks.

Rom. Is the a Capulet?

O deare account! my life is my foes debt.
Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
Rom. I fo I feare, the more is my vnreft.
Capu. Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We haue a trifling foolish banquet towards:
Is it ene fo? why then I thanke you

all.

I thanke you honeft gentlemen, good night :
More torches here, come on, then lets to bed.
Ah firrah, by my faie it waxes late,

Ile to my rest.

Iuli. Come hither nurfe, what is yond gentleman?
Nurf. The fonne and heire of old Tyberio.

Iuli. Whats he that now is going out of † doore?

Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio.

Iuli. Whats he that follows here that would not dance? Nurf. I know not.

Iuli. Go afke his name, if he be married,

My graue is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurf. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,

The onely fonne of your great enemie.

Iul. My onely loue fprung from my onely hate, Too early feene, vnknowne, and knowne too late, Prodigious birth of loue it is to mee,

That I muft loue a loathed enemie.

Nurf. Whats tis? whats tis?

t of the

lu. A rime I leart euen now

Of one I danft withall.

One cals within Iuliet.

Nurf. Anon, anon :

Come lets away, the ftrangers all are gone,

Chorus.

Now old defire doth in his deathbed lie,

And yong affection gapes to be his heire,

Exeunt.

That faire for which loue gron'de for and would die,
With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire.
Now Romeo is beloucd, and loues againe,

A like bewitched by the charme of lookes :
But to his foe fuppofde he must complaine,

And she steale loues fweet bait from fearefull hookes :
Being held a foe, he may not haue acceffe

To breath fuch vowes as louers vse to sweare,

And she as much in loue, her meanes much leffe,

To meete her new beloued any where :

But paffion lends them power, time meanes to meete,
Tempring extremities with extreame fweete.

Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here, Turne backe dull earth and find thy center out.

Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my cozen Romeo, Romeo.

Mer. He is wife, and on my life hath stolne him home to bed.

Ben. He ran this way and leapt this orchard wall.

Call good Mercutio :

Nay Ile coniure too.

Mer. Romeo, humours, madman, paffion louer,
Appeare thou in the likeneffe of a figh,

Speake but one rime and I am fatisfied :
Cry but ay me, prouaunt, but loue and day,
Speake to my gofhip Venus one faire word,
One nickname for † her purblind fonne and her §,
Young Abraham: Cupid he that shot so true,

When king Cophetua lou'd the begger maid.
He heareth not, he ftriueth ‡ not, he moueth not,
The ape is dead, and I must coniure him,
I coniure the by Rofalines bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her fcarlet lip,

By her fine foote, straight leg, and quiuering thigh,
And the demeanes, that there adiacent lie,
That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs.

Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him.

Mer. This cannot anger him, t'would anger him To raise a spirit in his mistresse circle,

Of fome strange nature, letting it there ftand

Till she had laide it, and coniured it downe,

That were fome fpight.

My inuocation is faire and honest, and in his mistresse name,

I coniure onely but to raise vp him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these trees

To be conforted with the humerous night :

Blind is his loue, and beft befits the darke.

Mer. If loue be blind, loue cannot hit the marke,

Now will he fit vnder a medler tree,

And with his mistreffe were that kinde of fruite, As maides call medlers when they laugh alone, ◇ Romeo that she were, O that she were

An open, or thou✶ a poprin peare.
Romeo goodnight Ile to my truccle bed,
This field-bed is to cold for me to fleepe,

Come fhall we goe?

Ben. Go then, for tis in vaine to feeke him here

That meanes not to be found.

Ro. He ieafts at fcarres that neuer felt a wound,

But foft, what light through yonder windowe breaks?
It is the east, and Iuliet is the funne.

Arife faire fun and kill the enuious moone,

Who is already ficke and pale with griefe,

That thou her maid art far more faire then fhe:

Be not her maid fince fhe is enuious,

Her veftal liuery is but ficke and greene,

And none but fooles doe weare it, caft it off:

Exit.

It is my lady, O it is my loue, O that she knew she were, She fpeakes yet fhe fayes nothing, what of that?

Her eye difcourfes, I will anfwere it:

I am too bold tis not to me fhe fpeakes:

Two of the fairest starres in all the heauen,
Hauing fome bufines do entreat her eyes,
To twinckle in their fpheres till they returne.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head,

The brightneffe of her cheeke would shame those starres,
As day-light doth a lampe, her eye in heauen,
Would through the ayrie region ftreame fo bright,
That birds would fing, and thinke it were not night:

See how fhe leanes her cheeke vpon her hand.

O that I were a gloue vpon that hand,

That I might touch that cheeke.

Iuli. Ay me

Rom. She fpeakes.

Oh fpeake againe bright angell, for thou art As glorious to this night being ore my head, * and catera, and thou.

As