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Why rail'ft thou on thy Birth? the Heav'n and Earth?
Since Birth, and Heav'n, and Earth, all three do meet
In thee at once, which thou at once would'st lose.
Fy, fy, thou fham'ft thy Shape, thy Love, thy Wit;
Which like an Ufurer abound'ft in all,

And useft none in that true ufe indeed,

Which should bedeck thy Shape, thy Love, thy Wit:
Thy noble Shape is but a Form of Wax,
Digreffing from the Valour of a Man;

Thy dear Love fworn, but hollow Perjury,
Killing that Love which thou haft vow'd to cherish;
Thy Wit, that Ornament to Shape and Love,
Mif-fhapen in the Conduct of them both,
Like Powder in a skillefs Soldier's Flask,
Is fet a fire by thine own Ignorance,

And thou difmembred with thine own Defence.
What, roufe thee, Man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whofe dear fake thou waft but lately dead.
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou flew 'ft Tybalt; there art thou happy too,
The Law that threatned Death became thy Friend,
And turn'd it to Exile; there art thou happy.
A pack of Bleffings light upon thy Back,
Happiness courts thee in her beft Array,
But like a mif-hav'd and a fullen Wench,
Thou putteft up thy Fortune and thy Love:
Take heed, take heed, for fuch die miferable.
Go get thee to thy Love, as was decreed,
Afcend her Chamber, hence and comfort her:
But look thou ftay not 'till the Watch be fet,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your Marriage, reconcile your Friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee back,
With twenty hundred thousand times more Joys
Than thou went'ft forth in Lamentation.
Go before, Nurfe, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her haften all the House to Bed,
Which heavy Sorrow makes them apt unto.
Romeo is coming.

Nur

Nur. O Lord, I could have ftaid here all Night,
To hear good Counsel: Oh, what Learning is!
My Lord, I'll tell my Lady you will come.
Rom. Do fo, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide,
Nur. Here, Sir, a Ring the bid me give you, Sir;
Hie you, make hafte, for it grows very late.

Rom. How well my Comfort is reviv'd by this.
Fri. Go hence.

Good Night, and here ftands all your State:
Either be gone before the Watch be fet,
Or by the break of Day difguis'd, from hence,
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your Man,
And he fhall fignifie from time to time,
Every good hap to you that chances here:
Give me thy Hand, 'tis late, farewel, Good Night.
Rom. But that a Joy, paft Joy, calls out on me,
It were a Grief, fo brief to part with thee:

Farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Capulet's House.

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Cap. Things have faln out, Sir, fo unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our Daughter:
Look you, fhe lov'd her Kinfman Tybalt dearly,
And fo did I-Well, we were born to die.
'Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to Night:
I promife you, but for your Company,

I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of Woe afford no time to Woo:
Madam, good Night, commend me to your Daughter.
La. Cap. I will, and know her Mind early to Morrow;
To Night fhe is mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a defperate tender
Of my Child's Love: I think fhe will be rul'd
In all refpects by me, nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife,
go you to her e'er you go to Bed,
Acquaint her here of my Son Paris Love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-
But foft; what day is this?

Par. Monday, my Lord.

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Cap. Monday? ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too foon,
A Thursday let it be: A Thursday tell her
She fhall be married to this Noble Earl:
Will you be ready? Do you like this hafte?
We'll keep no great a-do-a Friend or two-
For, hark you, Tybalt being flain fo late,
It may be thought we held him carelefly,
Being our Kinsman, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have fome half a dozen Friends,
And there's an end. But what fay you to Thursday?
Par. My Lord,

I would that Thursday were to Morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone--a Thursday be it then: Go you to Juliet e'er you go to Bed,

[To Lady Capulet. Prepare her, Wife, against this Wedding-day. Farewel, my Lord-light to my Chamber, hoa! 'Afore me, it is fo late, that we may call it early by and by. Good Night.

SCENE V. The Garden.

[Exeunt.

Enter Romeo and Juliet above at a Window; a Ladder of Ropes fet.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone?

It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine Ear,
Nightly the fings on yond Pomgranate 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 fevering Clouds in yonder Eaft:
Night's Candles are burnt out, and jocund Day
Stands tiptoe on the mifty Mountain tops,
I must be gone and live, or ftay and dye.
Jul. Yon Light is not Day-light, I know it, I s
It is fome Meteor that the Sun exhales,
To be to thee this Night a Torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua,
Therefore ftay, yet thou need'ft not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to Death,
I am content, fo thou wilt have it fo.

I'll fay yon gray is not the Morning's Eye,

'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's Brow,
Nor that is not the Lark whofe Notes do beat
The vaulty Heav'ns fo high above our Heads,
I have more care to ftay, than will to go:
Come Death and welcome, Juliet wills it fo.
How is't, my Soul? let's talk, it is not Day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away:
It is the Lark that fings fo out of Tune,
Straining harsh Difcords, and unpleafing Sharps.
Some fay the Lark makes sweet Division;
This doth not fo: For fhe divideth us.

Some fay, the Lark, and loathed Toad change Eyes,
O now I would they had chang'd Voices too:
Since, arm from arm, that Voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Huntf-up to the Day,
O now be gone, more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light, more dark and dark our Woes.
Enter Nurfe.

Nur. Madam.

Jul. Nurfe.

Nur. Your Lady Mother is coming to your Chamber: The Day is broke, be wary, look about.

Jul. Then Window let Day in, and let Life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel, one Kifs, and I'll Defcend. Jul. Art thou gone fo? Love! Lord! ah Husband! Friend! I must hear from thee every Day in the Hour,

[Romeo comes down by the Ladder into the Garden.

For in a Minute there are many Days,

O by this count I fhall be much in Years,

E'er I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewel:

I will omit no opportunity,

That

may convey my Greetings, Love, to thee, Jul. O thinkeft thou we fhall ever meet again?

Rom. I doubt it not, and all thefe Woes fhall ferve
For fweet Difcourfes, in our time to come.
Jul. O God! I have an ill Divining Soul,
Methinks I fee thee now, thou art fo low,
As one dead in the bottom of a Tomb:
Either my Eye-fight fails; or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And truft me, Love, in mine Eye fo do you:
Dry Sorrow drinks our Blood. Adieu, adieu.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE VI. Juliet's Chamber.
Enter Juliet.

Jul. O Fortune, Fortune, all Men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him
That is renown'd for Faith? be fickle Fortune;
For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long,
But fend him back.

Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. Ho Daughter, are you up?

Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my Lady Mother?
Is the not down fo late, or up fo early?
What unaccustom'd Caufe procures her hither?
La. Cap. Why how now, Juliet?

Jul. Madam, I am not well.

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your Coufin's Death? What, wilt thou wash him from his Grave with Tears? And if thou couldft, thou couldst not make him live: Therefore have done, fome Grief thews much of Love, But much of Grief fhews ftill fome want of Wit. Jul. Yet let me weep, for fuch a feeling lofs.

La. Cap. So fhall you feel the lofs, but not the Friend Which you weep for.

Jul. Feeling fo the loss,

I cannot chufe but ever weep the Friend,

La. Cap. Well Girl, thou weep'ft not so much for his death, As that the Villain lives which flaughter'd him.

Jul. What Villain, Madam?

La. Cap. That fame Villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he be many Miles afunder;

God pardon him, I do with all

my Heart,

And yet no Man like he doth grieve my Heart.
La. Cap. That is because the Traitor lives.

Jul. Ay, Madam, from the reach of thefe my Hands:
Would none but I might venge my Coufin's Death.
La. Cap. We will have Vengeance for it, fear thou not;
Then weep no more. I'll fend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame banish'd Runnagate doth live,
Shall give him fuch an unaccuftom'd Dram,
That he fhall foon keep Tybalt Company:
And then I hope thou wilt be fatisfied.
Jul. Indeed I never fhall be fatisfied

With Romeo, 'till I behold him

Dead

Is

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