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twg_000000025600 | Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve but as a note Where I may read who passd that passing fair? Farewell, thou canst not teach me to forget. BENVOLIO. Ill pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. A Street. Enter Capulet, Paris and Servant. CAPULET. But Montague is bound as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025601 | well as I, In penalty alike; and tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. PARIS. Of honourable reckoning are you both, And pity tis you livd at odds so long. But now my lord, what say you to my suit? CAPULET. But saying oer what I have said before. My child is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025602 | yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. PARIS. Younger than she are happy mothers made. CAPULET. And too soon marrd are those so early made. The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025603 | She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; And she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustomd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025604 | you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well apparelld April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025605 | my house. Hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be: Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, [_gives a paper_] and to them say, My | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025606 | house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [_Exeunt Capulet and Paris._] SERVANT. Find them out whose names are written here! It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025607 | writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time! Enter Benvolio and Romeo. BENVOLIO. Tut, man, one fire burns out anothers burning, One pain is lessend by anothers anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025608 | infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. ROMEO. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. BENVOLIO. For what, I pray thee? ROMEO. For your broken shin. BENVOLIO. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? ROMEO. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whippd and tormented andGod-den, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025609 | good fellow. SERVANT. God gi go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? ROMEO. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. SERVANT. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything you see? ROMEO. Ay, If I know the letters and the language. SERVANT. Ye say honestly, rest you merry! ROMEO. Stay, fellow; I can read. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025610 | [_He reads the letter._] _Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Utruvio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena. _ A fair | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025611 | assembly. [_Gives back the paper_] Whither should they come? SERVANT. Up. ROMEO. Whither to supper? SERVANT. To our house. ROMEO. Whose house? SERVANT. My masters. ROMEO. Indeed I should have askd you that before. SERVANT. Now Ill tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025612 | come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. [_Exit._] BENVOLIO. At this same ancient feast of Capulets Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovst; With all the admired beauties of Verona. Go thither and with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. ROMEO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025613 | When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire; And these who, often drownd, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars. One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Neer saw her match since first the world begun. BENVOLIO. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself poisd with herself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025614 | in either eye: But in that crystal scales let there be weighd Your ladys love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now shows best. ROMEO. Ill go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of my own. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Room | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025615 | in Capulets House. Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. LADY CAPULET. Nurse, wheres my daughter? Call her forth to me. NURSE. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! What ladybird! God forbid! Wheres this girl? What, Juliet! Enter Juliet. JULIET. How now, who calls? NURSE. Your mother. JULIET. Madam, I am here. What is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025616 | your will? LADY CAPULET. This is the matter. Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again, I have rememberd me, thous hear our counsel. Thou knowest my daughters of a pretty age. NURSE. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. LADY CAPULET. Shes not fourteen. NURSE. Ill lay fourteen of my teeth, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025617 | yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide? LADY CAPULET. A fortnight and odd days. NURSE. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she,God rest all Christian souls! Were of an age. Well, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025618 | Susan is with God; She was too good for me. But as I said, On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was weand,I never shall forget it, Of all the days of the year, upon that day: For I had then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025619 | laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall; My lord and you were then at Mantua: Nay, I do bear a brain. But as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug! Shake, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025620 | quoth the dovehouse: twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by throod She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before she broke her brow, And then my husband,God be with his soul! A was a merry man,took up | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025621 | the child: Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying, and said Ay. To see now how a jest shall come about. I warrant, and I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it. Wilt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025622 | thou not, Jule? quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said Ay. LADY CAPULET. Enough of this; I pray thee hold thy peace. NURSE. Yes, madam, yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say Ay; And yet I warrant it had upon it brow A bump as big as a young cockerels stone; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025623 | A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fallst upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said Ay. JULIET. And stint thou too, I pray thee, Nurse, say I. NURSE. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace Thou wast the prettiest babe | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025624 | that eer I nursd: And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. LADY CAPULET. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married? JULIET. It is an honour that I dream not of. NURSE. An honour! Were not I thine only | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025625 | nurse, I would say thou hadst suckd wisdom from thy teat. LADY CAPULET. Well, think of marriage now: younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers. By my count I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025626 | NURSE. A man, young lady! Lady, such a man As all the worldwhy hes a man of wax. LADY CAPULET. Veronas summer hath not such a flower. NURSE. Nay, hes a flower, in faith a very flower. LADY CAPULET. What say you, can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast; Read oer the volume | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025627 | of young Paris face, And find delight writ there with beautys pen. Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what obscurd in this fair volume lies, Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025628 | and tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide. That n manys eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less. NURSE. No less, nay bigger. Women grow by men. LADY CAPULET. Speak briefly, can you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025629 | like of Paris love? JULIET. Ill look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. Enter a Servant. SERVANT. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025630 | I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight. LADY CAPULET. We follow thee. [_Exit Servant._] Juliet, the County stays. NURSE. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. A Street. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers; Torch-bearers and others. ROMEO. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025631 | on without apology? BENVOLIO. The date is out of such prolixity: Well have no Cupid hoodwinkd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But let them measure us by what they will, Well measure them a measure, and be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025632 | gone. ROMEO. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy I will bear the light. MERCUTIO. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. ROMEO. Not I, believe me, you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles, I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. MERCUTIO. You are a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025633 | lover, borrow Cupids wings, And soar with them above a common bound. ROMEO. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. Under loves heavy burden do I sink. MERCUTIO. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025634 | tender thing. ROMEO. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn. MERCUTIO. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in: [_Putting on a mask._] A visor for a visor. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025635 | care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me. BENVOLIO. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in But every man betake him to his legs. ROMEO. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverbd with a grandsire phrase, Ill be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025636 | a candle-holder and look on, The game was neer so fair, and I am done. MERCUTIO. Tut, duns the mouse, the constables own word: If thou art dun, well draw thee from the mire Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho. ROMEO. Nay, thats not so. MERCUTIO. I mean sir, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025637 | in delay We waste our lights in vain, light lights by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits. ROMEO. And we mean well in going to this mask; But tis no wit to go. MERCUTIO. Why, may one ask? ROMEO. I dreamt a dream tonight. MERCUTIO. And so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025638 | did I. ROMEO. Well what was yours? MERCUTIO. That dreamers often lie. ROMEO. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. MERCUTIO. O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025639 | atomies Over mens noses as they lie asleep: Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spiders web; The collars, of the moonshines watery beams; Her whip of crickets bone; the lash, of film; Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025640 | Prickd from the lazy finger of a maid: Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o mind the fairies coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love; Oer courtiers knees, that dream on curtsies straight; Oer lawyers fingers, who straight | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025641 | dream on fees; Oer ladies lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops oer a courtiers nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pigs tail, Tickling a parsons nose as a lies asleep, Then dreams | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025642 | he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth oer a soldiers neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025643 | plats the manes of horses in the night; And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them, and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she, ROMEO. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talkst of nothing. MERCUTIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025644 | True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being angerd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south. BENVOLIO. This | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025645 | wind you talk of blows us from ourselves: Supper is done, and we shall come too late. ROMEO. I fear too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this nights revels; and expire the term Of a despised life, closd in my breast By some vile forfeit of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025646 | untimely death. But he that hath the steerage of my course Direct my suit. On, lusty gentlemen! BENVOLIO. Strike, drum. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. A Hall in Capulets House. Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. FIRST SERVANT. Wheres Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher! He scrape a trencher! SECOND SERVANT. When good manners shall lie all in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025647 | one or two mens hands, and they unwashd too, tis a foul thing. FIRST SERVANT. Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony and Potpan! SECOND SERVANT. Ay, boy, ready. FIRST SERVANT. You are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025648 | looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. SECOND SERVANT. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys. Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. [_Exeunt._] Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. CAPULET. Welcome, gentlemen, ladies that have their toes Unplagud with corns will have a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025649 | bout with you. Ah my mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She Ill swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day That I have worn a visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a fair ladys ear, Such as would please; tis gone, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025650 | tis gone, tis gone, You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall, give room! And foot it, girls. [_Music plays, and they dance._] More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah sirrah, this unlookd-for sport comes well. Nay sit, nay sit, good cousin Capulet, For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025651 | you and I are past our dancing days; How long ist now since last yourself and I Were in a mask? CAPULETS COUSIN. Byr Lady, thirty years. CAPULET. What, man, tis not so much, tis not so much: Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we maskd. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025652 | CAPULETS COUSIN. Tis more, tis more, his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty. CAPULET. Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. ROMEO. What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? SERVANT. I know not, sir. ROMEO. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025653 | she hangs upon the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiops ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady oer her fellows shows. The measure done, Ill watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025654 | till now? Forswear it, sight! For I neer saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT. This by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave Come hither, coverd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025655 | hold it not a sin. CAPULET. Why how now, kinsman! Wherefore storm you so? TYBALT. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night. CAPULET. Young Romeo, is it? TYBALT. Tis he, that villain Romeo. CAPULET. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, A bears him like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025656 | a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-governd youth. I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement. Therefore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will; the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025657 | frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. TYBALT. It fits when such a villain is a guest: Ill not endure him. CAPULET. He shall be endurd. What, goodman boy! I say he shall, go to; Am I the master here, or you? Go to. Youll not endure him! God shall mend my soul, Youll make a mutiny among my guests! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025658 | You will set cock-a-hoop, youll be the man! TYBALT. Why, uncle, tis a shame. CAPULET. Go to, go to! You are a saucy boy. Ist so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. You must contrary me! Marry, tis time. Well said, my hearts!You are a princox; go: Be quiet, orMore light, more light!For shame! Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025659 | make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts. TYBALT. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [_Exit._] ROMEO. [_To Juliet._] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips, two blushing pilgrims, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025660 | ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. JULIET. 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. ROMEO. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? JULIET. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025661 | use in prayer. ROMEO. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. JULIET. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake. ROMEO. Then move not while my prayers effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purgd. [_Kissing her._] JULIET. Then have my lips | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025662 | the sin that they have took. ROMEO. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urgd! Give me my sin again. JULIET. You kiss by the book. NURSE. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. ROMEO. What is her mother? NURSE. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025663 | I nursd her daughter that you talkd withal. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks. ROMEO. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! My life is my foes debt. BENVOLIO. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. ROMEO. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. CAPULET. Nay, gentlemen, prepare | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025664 | not to be gone, We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Is it een so? Why then, I thank you all; I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. More torches here! Come on then, lets to bed. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late, Ill to my rest. [_Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse._] JULIET. Come hither, Nurse. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025665 | is yond gentleman? NURSE. The son and heir of old Tiberio. JULIET. Whats he that now is going out of door? NURSE. Marry, that I think be young Petruchio. JULIET. Whats he that follows here, that would not dance? NURSE. I know not. JULIET. Go ask his name. If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025666 | bed. NURSE. His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy. JULIET. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. NURSE. Whats this? Whats this? JULIET. A rhyme I learnd even now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025667 | Of one I dancd withal. [_One calls within, Juliet._] NURSE. Anon, anon! Come lets away, the strangers all are gone. [_Exeunt._] ACT II Enter Chorus. CHORUS. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groand for and would die, With tender Juliet matchd, is now not fair. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025668 | Now Romeo is belovd, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe supposd he must complain, And she steal loves 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025669 | meet her new beloved anywhere. But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. [_Exit._] SCENE I. An open place adjoining Capulets Garden. Enter Romeo. ROMEO. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [_He climbs the wall and leaps down within it._] Enter Benvolio | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025670 | and Mercutio. BENVOLIO. Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! MERCUTIO. He is wise, And on my life hath stoln him home to bed. BENVOLIO. He ran this way, and leapd this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio. MERCUTIO. Nay, Ill conjure too. Romeo! Humours! Madman! Passion! Lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025671 | satisfied; Cry but Ah me! Pronounce but Love and dove; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua lovd the beggar-maid. He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025672 | thee by Rosalines 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. BENVOLIO. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. MERCUTIO. This cannot anger him. Twould anger him To raise a spirit in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025673 | his mistress circle, Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it, and conjurd 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. BENVOLIO. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees To be consorted with the humorous night. Blind | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025674 | is his love, and best befits the dark. MERCUTIO. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. O Romeo, that she were, O that she were An open-arse and thou a poperin pear! Romeo, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025675 | good night. Ill to my truckle-bed. This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. Come, shall we go? BENVOLIO. Go then; for tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Capulets Garden. Enter Romeo. ROMEO. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. Juliet appears above at a window. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025676 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025677 | but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O it is my love! O, 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. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025678 | 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 eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025679 | how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek. JULIET. Ay me. ROMEO. She speaks. O speak again bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being oer my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025680 | that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air. JULIET. 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 Ill no longer be a Capulet. ROMEO. [_Aside._] Shall I hear more, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025681 | shall I speak at this? JULIET. Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. Whats Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O be some other name. Whats in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025682 | would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo calld, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. ROMEO. I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and Ill be new baptisd; Henceforth I never will be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025683 | Romeo. JULIET. What man art thou that, thus bescreend in night So stumblest on my counsel? ROMEO. 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. Had I it written, I would tear the word. JULIET. My ears have yet not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025684 | drunk a hundred words Of thy tongues utterance, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? ROMEO. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. JULIET. How camst 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025685 | thee here. ROMEO. With loves light wings did I oerperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. JULIET. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. ROMEO. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025686 | Look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. JULIET. I would not for the world they saw thee here. ROMEO. I have nights cloak to hide me from their eyes, And but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. JULIET. By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025687 | whose direction foundst thou out this place? ROMEO. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far As that vast shore washd with the farthest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise. JULIET. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025688 | face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. 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 swearst, Thou mayst prove false. At lovers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025689 | perjuries, They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, Ill frown and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo. But else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light: But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025690 | trust me, gentleman, Ill prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheardst, ere I was ware, My true-love passion; therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered. ROMEO. Lady, by yonder blessed moon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025691 | I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, JULIET. O swear not by the moon, thinconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. ROMEO. What shall I swear by? JULIET. Do not swear at all. Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025692 | idolatry, And Ill believe thee. ROMEO. If my hearts dear love, JULIET. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight; It is too rash, too unadvisd, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025693 | summers 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. ROMEO. O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? JULIET. What satisfaction canst thou have tonight? ROMEO. Thexchange of thy loves faithful vow for mine. JULIET. I gave thee mine before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025694 | thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again. ROMEO. Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? JULIET. 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025695 | The more I have, for both are infinite. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu. [_Nurse calls within._] Anon, good Nurse!Sweet Montague be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [_Exit._] ROMEO. O blessed, blessed night. I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering sweet to be substantial. Enter Juliet above. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025696 | JULIET. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, By one that Ill procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite, And all my fortunes at thy foot Ill lay And follow thee my lord throughout the world. NURSE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025697 | [_Within._] Madam. JULIET. I come, anon. But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee, NURSE. [_Within._] Madam. JULIET. By and by I come To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief. Tomorrow will I send. ROMEO. So thrive my soul, JULIET. A thousand times good night. [_Exit._] ROMEO. A thousand times the worse, to want thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025698 | light. Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. [_Retiring slowly._] Re-enter Juliet, above. JULIET. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconers 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025699 | tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeos name. ROMEO. It is my soul that calls upon my name. How silver-sweet sound lovers tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears. JULIET. Romeo. ROMEO. My nyas? JULIET. What oclock tomorrow Shall I send to thee? ROMEO. By the hour of nine. JULIET. I will not fail. Tis | 60 | gutenberg |
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