-)

One nick-name to her pur-blind fon and heir:
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so 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 demefns 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 fome strange nature, letting it there stand
'Till fhe had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
That were some spight. My invocation is
Honeft and fair, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

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

Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

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

Now will he fit under a medlar-tree,

And wifh his mistress 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.

9 When King Cophetua, &.] Alluding to an old ballad. POPE.

1 Rom.

H

SCENE II.

Changes to Capulet's Garden.

Enter Romeo.

E jefts at fcars, that never felt a woundBut, foft! what light thro' yonder window breaks?

It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun!

[Juliet appears above, at a window.

Arife, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already fick and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
2 Be not her maid, fince fhe is envious;
Her vestal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; caft it off-
3 It is my Lady; O! it is my Love;

O that she knew fhe were!

She speaks, yet fhe fays nothing; what of that?
Her eye difcourfes; I will anfwer it-

I am too bold, 'tis not to me the speaks :
Two of the fairest stars of all the heav'n,
Having fome 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 fhame those ftars,
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:

He jefts at fcars,] That is, Mercutio jefts, whom he overheard.

Be not her maid,] Be not a

votary to the moon, to Diana.

3 It is my lady ;-] This line and halfI have replaced.

See,

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, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this Sight, 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 5 the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo-wherefore art thou Ro

meo?

Deny thy father, and refuse 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: 6 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 rose,

40, speak again, bright Angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night,] Tho' all the printed copies concur in this reading, yet the latter part of the Simile feems to require,

As glorious to this Sight; and therefore I have ventured to alter the text fo. THEOBALD. 5--the lazy-pacing clouds ] Thus corrected from the first edi tion, in the other lazy-puffing.

POPE. 6 Thou art thyself, though not

[Afide.

a Montague Ji.e. you would be just what you are, altho' you were not of the houfe of Montague. WARBURTON.

I think the true reading is,
Thou art thyself, then not a

Montague.

Thou art a being of peculiar excellence, and haft none of the malignity of the family, from which thou hast thy name.

Hanmer reads,

Thou'rt not thyself so, though a Montague.

By any other name would smell 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,
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 night,

So ftumbleft on my counfel?

Rom. 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.

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

Rom. Neither, fair Saint, 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, any of my kinfmen find thee here.

If

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls,

For ftony limits cannot hold love out;

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

Jul. If they do fee thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their fwords; 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

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.

Jul. By whofe direction found ft thou out this place? Rom. By love, that firft 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 vaft shore, wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for fuch merchandise.

Jul. Thou know'ft, the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden-blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou haft heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain, deny
What I have spoke 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 falfe; 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,

7

And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light;
But trust me, Gentleman, I'll prove more true,
Than those that have more coying to be ftrange.
I should have been more strange, I muft confefs,
But that thou over-heard'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 discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow,
That tips with filver all these fruit-tree tops-

7 coying to be frange.] For coying, the modern editions have cunning,

Jul.