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Ful. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
[Nurse calls within. Anon, good Nurse-Sweet Mountague, be true ; Stay but a little, I will come again.
[Exit. Rom. O blessed, blessed night. I am afraid Being in night, all this is but a dream! Too flattering sweet to be fubftantial.
Re-enter Juliet above. Ful. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed : If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose, marriage, send me word to morrow By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite ; And all my fortunes at thy foot l'll lay, And follow thee, my love, throughout the world.
[Within: Madam. I come, anon but if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee- [Within : Madam.) By and by I
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.
soul. Jul. A thousand times good night.
[Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy light.
Enter Juliet again.
Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name.
Jul. Romeo !
Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow
Rom. By the hour of nine.
Jul. I will not fail, 'tis twenty years 'till then,I have forgot why I did call thee back
Rom. Let me stand here 'till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget to have thee ftill stand there, Remembring how I love thy Company.
Rom. And I'M stay here, to have thee ftill forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
Jul. 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone, And yet no further than a Wanton's bird, That lets it hop a little from her hand, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving jealous of his liberty.
Rom. I would I were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, fo would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night 'till it be morrow. [Exit.
Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine Eyes, peace in thy breast Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.
S CE N E III
And vice sometimes by actions dignified.
Rom. I tell thee ere thou ask it me again ;
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set
Fri. Holy faint Franis, what a chance is this !
Hurry Hurry thee on, thro' short liv'd, dear-bought pleasures, To cureless woes, and lasting Penitence.
Rom. I pray thee, chide me not, she whom I love, Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love : Do thou with heav'n smile irpon our union; Do not withhold thy benediction from us, But make two hearts, by holy marriage one.
Fri. Well, come, my pupil, go along with me, In
one respect I'll give thee my ailistance ; For this ainance may so happy prove, To turn your houshold rancour to pure
love. Rom. O let us hence, Love stands on sudden hafte. Fri. Wisely and flow; they stumble that run fast.
The S T R E E T.
Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.
came he not home to night?
Mer. Why that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Mir. Alas, poor Romco, he is already dead! ftabb'd with a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with a love-song, the very pin of liis heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's but-shaft ; and is he a man to encounter Tibalt? Ben. Why, what is Tibalt ?
Mr. Oh he's the courageous captain of compliments; he fights as you fing prick.icng, keeps tíme, distance, and proportion ; refts his minum one, two, and the third in your bosom ; the very butcher of a filk button, a duellift, a duellift ; a gentleman of the very first house, of the
first and second cause; ah the immortal pafiado, the punto reverso, the hay
Ben. The what?
Mer. The pox of such antick lisping affected phantafies, these new tuners of accents :
Jesu, a very good blade,
tall man-a very good whore. Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandfire, that we should be thus afflicted with these Arange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moy's?
Ben. Here comes Romeo.
Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O fileft, ficth, how art thou finished ? Now is he for the numbers that Pitarch flowed in : Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry she had a better love to berime her : Dido a dowdy : Cleopatra a gipfie, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots : Thisbe a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose.
Rom. Pardon, Mercutio, my business was great, and in fuch a case as mine, a man may strain curtely.
Enter Nurse and her Man.
Nurse. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find young Romeo ?
Rom. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
Narfe. You say well.