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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 hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers 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 effect 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 urg'd! Give me my sin again. Jul.
You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with
Shall have the chinks.
Is she a Capulet?
foe's debt. 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
Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman?
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 Montague;
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
Nurse. What's this ? what's this?
A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, JULIET.
6 A collation of fruit, wine, &c.
[Exeunt. Enter CHORUS.
Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir;
With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair.
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 less
To meet her new-beloved any where : But passion lends them power, time means to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Erit.
ACT II. .
SCENE Í. An open Place, adjoining Capulet's
forward, when heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.
[He climbs the Wall, aud leaps down within it.
Enter BenVOLIo, and MERCUTIO.
Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo !
He is wise ;
8j. e. Himself.
And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed.
Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall : Call, good Mercutio. Mer.
Nay, I'll conjure too. Romeo! humours ! madman! passion! lover ! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but-Ah me! couple but-love and dove; 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 ape' 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 him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle 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 2 night:
9 Alluding to the old ballad of the king and the beggar. " This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an expres
sion of tenderness. 2 Humid, moist.
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Go, then; for 'tis in vain
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; 0, it is my love: 0, that she knew she were! 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 :
3 A votary to the moon, to Diana