Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves*,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. [row, Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorThat I shall say-good night, till it be morrow.

LOVE'S HERALDS.

Love's heralds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over low'ring hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

VIOLENT DELIGHTS NOT LASTING.

These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die: like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.

LOVERS LIGHT OF FOOT.

O, so light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossomerst
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

ACT III.

A LOVER'S IMPATIENCE.

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a waggoner

*Fetters. The long white filament which flies in the air.

As Phæton would wip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy might immediately.---
Spread thy close curtain, love performing night!
That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!—
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night.

ROMEO ON HIS BANISHMENT.

SCENE. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar Laurence and ROMEO.

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say-death: For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death: do not say-banishment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient: for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished, is banish'd from the world, And world's exile is death:-then banishment Is death misterm'd: calling death—banishment. Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe, And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment: This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, And little mouse, every unworthy thing,

Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not.-More validity*,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But-banished—to kill me; banished?

O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word-banishment?
Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a
word.

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Rom. Yet banished?-Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom;
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.

Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. Rom. How should they, when that wise men have

no eyes?

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. * Worth, value.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, [not feel: An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished,

Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear And fall upon the ground, as I do now, [thy hair, Taking the measure of an unmade

grave.

RELUCTANCE OF LOVERS TO PART.

SCENE. JULIET'S Chamber.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds în yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow*; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay, than will to go;* Reflection of the moon. + Inclination.

Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.— How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.

ACT IV.

JULIET'S RESOLUTION.

O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls; Or bid me go. into a new-made grave,

And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me And I will do it without fear or doubt,

[tremble; To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

JULIET'S SOLILOQUY ON DRINKING THE OPIATE.
Farewell! God knows, when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up
the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me;-
Nurse! What should she do here?

My dismal scene I needs must act alone.-
Come, phial.-

What if this mixture do not work at all?

Must I of force be married to the county?—
No, no; this shall forbid it:-lie thou there.-

[Laying down a dagger.

What if it be a pioson, which the friar

Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead;

Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo?