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Alike bewitched by the charm of Looks:
But to his Foe fuppos'd he must complain,
And the fteal Love's fweet bait from fearful Hooks.
Being held a Foe, he may not have access
To breath fuch Vows as Lovers ufe to fwear;
And she as much in Love, her means much less,
To meet her new Beloved any where:

But Paffion lends them Power, Time Means to meet,
Tempting Extremities with extream fweet.

SCENE II. The Street.

Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I go forward when my Heart is here? Turn back, dull Earth, and find my Center out. Enter Benvolio with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Coufin Romeo, Romeo.

Mer. He is wife,

And on my Life hath ftoln him home to Bed.

[Exit.

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this Orchard Wall.

Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.

Romeo, Humours, Madman, Paffion, Lover,
Appear thou in the likeness of a figh,

Speak but one time, and I am fatisfied.
Cry me but Ay me! couple but Love and Day,
Speak to my Goffip Venus one fair Word,
One Nick-name for her pur-blind Son and her,
Young Abraham Cupid, he that fhot fo true,
When King Cophetua lov'd the Beggar-maid.
He heareth not, he firreth not, he moveth not,
The Ape is dead, and I muft conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rofaline's bright Eyes,
By her high Fore-hed, and her Scarlet Lip,
By her file Foot, fight Leg, and quivering Thigh,
And the Defineans that there adjacent lye,

That in t' y.lkencfs tho appear to us.

Ben. And if he h ar thee, thou wilt anger him. fer. This cannot a get him, 'twould anger him To raise a Split in his Mifhiels's Circle, die z

Of

Of fome ftrange Nature, letting it there stand 'Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; That were fome spight.

My Invocation is fair and honeft, and in his Mistress's Name I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among thefe Trees, To be conforted with the humorous Night:

Blind is his Love, and beft befits the dark.

Mer. If Love be blind, Love cannot hit the Mark.

Now wilt he fit under a Medlar-tree,

And with his Mistress were that kind of Fruit,
Which Maids call Medlars when they laugh alone:
O, Romeo, that the were, O that she were
An Open-or thou a Poprin Pear;

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.

SCENE

III. A Garden.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. He jefts at Scars that never felt a Wound But foft, what Light thro' yonder Window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun:

[Exeunt.

[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.
Be not her Maid fince he is envious,

Her veftal Livery is but fick and green,

And none but Fools do wear it, caft it off:

It is my Lady, O it is my Love---O that she knew she were! She fpeaks, yet the fays nothing; what of that?

Her Eye difcourfes, I will anfwer it

I am too bold, 'tis not to me the fpeaks:
Two of the faireft Stars of all the Heav'n,
Having fome Bufinefs, do intreat her Eyes
To twinkle in their Spheres 'till they return.
What if her Eyes were there, they in her Head,
C 4

The

The brightness of her Check would fhame thofe Stars,
As Day-light doth a Lamp; her Eye in Heav'n,
Would through the airy Region stream so bright,
That Birds would fing, and think it were not Night:
See how he leans her Check 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 Night, being o'er my Head,
As is a winged Messenger from Heav'n,
Unto the white upturned wondring Eyes,
Of Mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he beftrides the lazy puffing Clouds,
And fails upon the Bofom of the Air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo----wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy Father, and refufe 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? [Afide.
Jul. 'Tis but thy Name that is my Enemy:
Thou art thy felf, though not a Mountague.
What's Mountague? it is not Hand, nor Foot,
Nor Arm, nor Face-----O be fome other Name
Belonging to a Man.

What's in a Name? that which we call a Rofe,
By any other word would fmell as fweet.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that Title; Romeo, doff thy Name,
And for that Name, which is no part of thee,
Take all my felf.

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 Counsel?

Rom. By a Name,

I know not how to tell thee who I am:

My Name, dear Saint, is hateful to my felf,

Because

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 Werds
Of thy Tongue's uttering, yet I know the found.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Mountague?

Rom. Neither, fair Maid, if either the dislike.
Jul. How cam'ft thou hither,

Tell me, and wherefore?

The Orchard Walls are high, and hard to clin b,
And the place Death, confidering who thou art,
If any of my Kinfmen find thee here.

Rom. With Love's light Wings
Did I o'er-perch thefe Walls,

For ftony Limits cannot hold Love out,

And what Love can do, that dares Love attempt:
Therefore thy Kinfmen are no ftop to me.

Jul. If they do fee thée, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine Eye,
Than twenty of their Swords; 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 Life 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 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 fartheft Sea,
I should adventure for fuch Merchandise.

Jul. Thou knoweft the mask of Night is on my Face,
Elle would a Maiden blush 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 spoke- -but farewel Complements:
Doft thou Love? O, 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

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Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverfe, and fay thee nay,
So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the World.
In truth, fair Mountague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may't think my 'Haviour light:
But truft me, Gentleman, I'll prove more true,
Than those that have more Coining to be ftrange.
I should have been more ftrange, I must confefs,
But that thou over-heard'ft, e'er 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 Moon I vow,
That tips with Silver all thefe Fruit-tree tops-

Jul. O fwear not by the Moon, th' unconftant Moon,
That monthly changes in her circled Orb,

Left that thy Love prove likewife variable.
Rom. What fhall I swear 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 Heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not fwear-although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this Contract to Night;

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too fudden,
Too like the Lightning which doth cease to be,
E'er one can fay, it lightens. Sweet, good Night,
This bud of Love by Summers ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous Flower when next we meet :
Good Night; good Night--as fweet Repose and Reft,
Come to thy Heart, as that within my Breaft.
Rom. O wilt thou leave me fo unfatisfied?
Jul. What fatisfaction canft thou have to Night?
Rom. Th' exchange of thy Love's faithful Vow of mine.
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom. Would't thou withdraw it?

For what purpofe, Love?

Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again,
yet I wish but for the thing I have:

And

My

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