Re-enter Juliet above.

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

If that thy bent of love be honourable,

Thy purpose marriage, send 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'ft not well,
I do befeech thee-

I come

-[Within: Madam.] By and by,

To cease thy fuit, and leave me to my grief.

To morrow will I fend.

Rom. So thrive my soul,

ful. 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.

Ful. Hift! Romeo, hift! O for a falkner's voice, To lure this Taffel gentle back again.

Bondage is hoarfe, and may not speak aloud;
Elfe would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarfe than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name, How filver-fweet found lovers' tongues by night, Like fofteft mufick to attending ears!

Jul

Jul. At what o'clock to morrow Shall I fend to thee?

Rom. By the hour of nine.

ful. I will not fail, 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me ftand here 'till thou remember it.
Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee ftill ftand there;
Remembring how I love thy company.
Rom. And I'll ftill ftay to have thee ftill forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almoft morning. I would have thee
And yet no further than a Wanton's bird,
That 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, 1 were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, fo would I ;

Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night.

forrow,

gonę,

Parting is fuch sweet

That I fhall fay good-night, 'till it be morrow. [Exit. Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy

breast!

'Would I were fleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghoftly Friar's clofe Cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

{Exit.

SCENE

Fri.

SCENE

III.

Changes to a Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.

THE

HE grey-ey'd morn fmiles on the frown-
ing night,

Check'ring the eastern clouds with ftreaks of light:
And darkness flecker'd, like a drunkard, reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's burning wheels.
Now ere the Sun advance his burning eye,

The day to chear, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this ofier-cage of ours

With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's Nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying Grave, that is her womb;
And from her womb children of divers kind
We fucking on her natural bofom find:
Many for many virtues excellent,

None but for fome, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies
In plants, herbs, ftones, and their true qualities.
Nor nought fo vile, that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth fome fpecial good doth give,
Nor aught fo good, but, ftrain'd from that fair ufe,
Revolts from true Birth, ftumbling on abufe.

The grey-ey'd morn, &c.] Thefe four first lines are here replaced, conformable to the first edition, where fuch a defcription is much more proper than in the mouth of Romeo just before, when he was full of nothing but the

thoughts of his mistress. POPE.

In the folio thefe lines are printed twice over, and given once to Romeo, and once to the Frier.

9-powerful grace, ] Efficacious virtue.

Virtue itself turns vice, being mifapplied;
And vice fometime by action's dignify'd.
Within the infant rind of this fmall flower
Poifon hath refidence, and med'cine power,
For this being smelt, with that sense chears each part,
Being tafted, flays all fenfes with the heart.
2 Two fuch oppofed foes encamp them ftill
In man, as well as herbs, Grace and rude Will:
And where the worfer is predominant,
Full-foon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. Good morrow, father!
Fri. Benedicite!

What early tongue fo fweet faluteth me?
Young fon, it argues a diftemper'd head
So foon to bid good-morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And, where care lodgeth, fleep will never lie;
But where unbruifed youth with unftuft brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden fleep doth reign;
Therefore thy earlinefs doth me affure,
Thou art up-rouz'd by fome diftemp'rature;

Poifon hath refidence, and medicine power: I believe Shakespear wrote, more accurately, thus,

Poifon bath refidence, and me

aic nal power: i.e. both the poifon and the antidote are lodged within the rind of this flower. WARBURTON.

There is no need of alteration. 2 Two fuch oppofed FOES] This is a modern Sophiftication. The old books have it opposedKINGS. So that it appears, Shakespear wrote, Two fuch op

pofed KIN. Why he calls them Kin was, because they were qualities refiding in one and the same fubftance. And as the enmity of oppofed Kin generally rifes higher than that between ftrangers, this circumftance adds a beauty to the expreffion. WARE.

Foes is certainly wrong, and kin is not right. Two kings are two oppofite powers, two contending potentates, in both the natural and moral world. The word encamp is proper to commanders.

Or if not fo, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to night.

Rom. That laft is true, the fweeter Reft was mine.
Fri. God pardon fin! waft thou with Rofaline?
Rom. With Rofaline, my ghoftly father? no.
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good fon: but where haft thou
been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou afk it me again;
I have been feafting with mine enemy,
Where, on a fudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy phyfick lies;
I bear no hatred, bleffed man, for, lo,
My interceffion likewife fteads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good fon, reft homely in thy drift, Riddling confeffion finds but riddling fhrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's' dear love is fet

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet;

As mine on hers, fo hers is fet on mine;

And all combin'd; fave what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pafs; but this I pray,
That thou confent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy faint Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rofaline, whom thou didst love fo dear,
So foon forfaken? young mens' love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Holy faint Francis! what a deal of brine
Hath washt thy fallow cheeks for Rofaline?
How much falt-water thrown away in wafte,
To feason love, that of it doth not tafte?
The Sun not yet thy fighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my antient ears,
Lo, here upon thy cheek the ftain doth fit
Of an old tear that is not wafh'd off yet.