Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, 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 wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter ROMEO. Rom. He jefts at fcars, that never felt a wound. [JULIET appears above, at a window. But, foft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! Arise, fair fun, 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 she is envious ; Her vestal livery is but fick and green, And And none but fools do wear it; caft it off. O, that she knew the were ! She speaks, yet the fays nothing; What of that? I am too bold, 'tis not to me fhe speaks : That I might touch that cheek! She speaks: O, fpeak again, bright angel! for thou art Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo ? 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? [Afide. Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. Nor Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 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 bescreen'd in night, So ftumbleft on my counsel? I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear faint, is hateful to myself, Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Rom. Neither, fair faint, 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, 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; Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Than Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, Jul. I would not for the world, they faw thee here. Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Jul. By whofe direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counfel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vaft fhore wash'd with the furthest sea, I would adventure for fuch merchandise. Jul. Thou know'ft, the mask of night is on my face; Elfe would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain fain deny What I have spoke; But farewell compliment! Doft thou love me? I know, thou wilt say-Ay; And I will take thy word: yet, if thou fwear'st, Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They fay, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think'ft I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverfe, and fay thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but, eife, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light : But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confefs, But that thou over-heard'ft, ere I was ware, My true love's passion; therefore pardon me; And And not impute this yielding to light love, Rom.. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, Jul. O, fwear not by the moon, the inconftant moon That monthly changes in her circled orb, Left that thy love prove likewise variable. Rom. What fhall I swear by? Ful. Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, fwear by thy gracious felf, And I'll believe thee. Rom. If my heart's dear love Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; Rom. Would't thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: [Nurfe calls within. |