*

(Young Abraham Cupid, he that fhot fo true,
When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid-)
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not,
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.

I conjure thee by Rofaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her fcarlet lip,
By her fine foot, ftraight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demefnes 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 raife a fpirit in his mistress' circle,

Of fome strange nature, letting it there ftand
Till the had laid it, and conjur`d it down;
That were fome fpight. My invocation is
Honeft and fair, and, in his mistress' name,
1 conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among thefe trees, To be conforted with the hum'rous night,

Blind is his love, and best befits the dark

Mer It love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Now will he fit under a medlar tree,

And with his miftrefs were that kind of fruit

Which 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 fleep.

Come, fhall we go!

Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain

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

SCENE II.

Changes to Capulet's garden

Enter Romeo.

Rom. He jefts at fcars that never felt a woundBut, foft! what light thro' yonder window breaks? It is the eaft, and Juliet is the fun!

[Juliet appears above, at a 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.

This probably was a name ftupidly given to Cupid in the old ballad here referred to of King Cophetua and the beggar-maid.

Be not her maid, fince fhe is envious:
Her veftal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; caft it off-
She speaks, yet the fays nothing; what of that?
Her eye difcourses ;- -I will anfwer it-

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars of all the heav'n,
Having fome business, do intreat her eyes
To twinkle in their fpheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightnefs of her cheek would shame those stars,
As day-light doth a lamp; her eyes in heav'n
Would through the airy region ftream fo bright,
That birds would fing, and think it were not night.
See how the leans her cheek upon her hand!-
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She speaks.

Oh, fpeak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this fight being o'er my head,
As is a winged meffenger from heav'n,
Unto the white-upturned, wondring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Romeo! Deny thy father, and refute thy name :

Or, if thou wilt not, be but fworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I speak at this?

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.

What's in a name? that which we call a rofe,
By any other name would fmell as fweet,
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that title; Romeo, quit thy name;
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,

[Afide.

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, befcreen'd in 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 it is an enemy to thee."

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

[night,

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the found. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair faint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'ft thou hither, tell me, and 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.

b;

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch thefe For ftony limits cannot hold love out;

And what love can do, that dares love attempt:
Therefore thy kinfmen are no top to me.

[walls,

Jul. If they do fee thee, they will murther thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their words; look thou but fweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world they faw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, And but thou love me, let them find me here; My lite were better ended by their hate,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

Jul. By whofe direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counfel, and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far

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

Jul. Thou know'ft the mark of night is on my face, Elfe would a maiden blufh 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 may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They fay, Jove laughs. Oh, gentle Romeo,
If thou doft love, pronounce it faithfully :
Or if you think I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverfe, and say thee Nay,
So thou wilt wooe: but, elfe, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;

And therefore thou may't think my 'haviour light.
But trust me, Gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be frange.
I should have been more ftrange, I must confefs,
But that thou overheard'ft, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's paffion; 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 these 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 fwear by?

Jul. Do not fwear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, fwear by thy gracious felf,
Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my true heart's love

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

It is too rah, too unadvis'd, too fudden,
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can fay it lightens-Sweet, good night.
This bud of love by fummer's ripening breath
May prove a beauteous flower, when next we meet.
Good night, good night- -as fweet repofe and reft
Come to thy heart, as that within my breaft!

Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unfatisfied?

Jul. What fatisfaction canst thou have to-night? Rom. Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for

mine.

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst requeft it; And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom. Would't 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.

Sweet Montague, be true:

Anon, good nurse-
Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O bleffed, bleffed night! I am afraid,
Being in night, all this is but a dream;

Too flattering fweet to be substantial.

Re-enter Juliet above.

[Exit.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night inIf that thy bent of love be honourable,

[deed.

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 love, throughout the world.
[Within, Madam.
I come, anon-but if thou mean't not well,
I do befeech thee-[Within, Madam.] By and by,

I come

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

Rom. So thrive my foul,

Jul. A thousand times good night.

[Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy light. Love goes tow'rd love, as fchool-boys from their books; But love from love, tow'rds fchool with heavy looks.

Enter Juliet again.

Jul. Hift? Romeo, hist! O for a falkner'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 hoarse than mine,