Imatges de pàgina
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To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth.
I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement.
Therefore be patient, take no note

of him ;
It is my will, the which if thou respect,
Shew a fair presence, and put off these frowni,
An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast,

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest.
I'll not endure him.

Cap. He shall be endur'd.
What, goodman boy--I say, he shall. Go to
Am I the master here, or you? go to
You'll not endure him! God fhall mend my soul,
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop? you'll be the man?
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Cap. Go to, go to,
You are a fawcy boy-is't fo, indeed!
This trick may chance to scathe you; I know what.
You must contrary me! Marry, 'tis time.
Well said, my hearts :- -You are a princox, go:-
Be quiet, or (more light, more light, for shame)
I'll make you quiet - What? cheerly, my hearts.

Tyb. Patience perforce, with wilful choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw; but this intrufion lhall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall, Rome. If I profane with my unworthy hand (5)

(TO Juliet. (5) If I profane with my unworthy band

Tbis boly Sbrine, the gentle Sin is this,

My Lips, two blushing Pilgrims, &c.] All Profanations are suppos’d to be expiated either by some meritorious Action, or by fome Penance undergone and Punishment submitted to. So, Romeo would here fay, if I have been profane in the rude Touch of my Hand, my Lips ftand ready, as two bluhing Pilgrims, to take off that Offence, to attone for it, by a sweet Pegance. Our Past therefore must have wrote, be gentle Fine is thisa

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This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this ; My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand,

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shews in this ;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that iley must use in prayer.
Rom. O then, dear faint, let lips do what hands do:

They pray, (grant thou) left faith turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers' sake. Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd.

[Killing her. Jul. Then have my lips the fin that late they took. Rom. Sin from my lips ! O trespass, sweetly urg'd!

fin again. Jul. You kiss by th' book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother?

[To her Nurse.
Nurse. Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous.
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talkt withal:
I tell you, he, that can lay hold of ler,
Shall have the chink.

Rom. Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

Ben. Away, he gone, the sport is at the beit.
Rom. Av, so I fear, tie more is my unreit.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards,
Is it e'en so ? why, then, I thank you all,
I thank you, honeft gentlemen, good night :
More torches here come on, then let's to bed,
Ah, - firrah, by my fay, it waxes late.
I'll to my reft.

[Exeunt. Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yon gentleman ? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

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Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door ?
Nurse. That, as I think, is

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Petruchio.. Jul. What's he, that follows here, that would not dance? Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go, ask his name:- If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding-bed.

Nurfe. His name is Romeo, and a Montague,
The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate !
Too early seen, unknown; and known too late ;
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse. What's this? what's this?
Jul. A rhyme I learn’d e'en now
Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet.

Nurse. Anon, anon Come, let's away, the strangers all are gone. (Exeunt.

Enter CHORUS. Ņow old defire doth on his death-bed lie, And young affection

gapes to be his heir :: That fair, for which love groan'd fore, and would 'die,

With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks: But to his foe suppos’d he must complain,

And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful houks. Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; 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 ;, Temp’ring extremities with extream sweet.

[Exit Chorus.

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ROMEO.
AN I go forward when my heart is here ?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out..

[Exita Enter Beavolio, with Mercutio, Ben. Romeo, my coufin Romeo.

Mer. He is wise,
And, on my life, hark fol'n him home to bed.

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard-wall, Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. Why, Romeo! humours ! madman! paffion ! lover! Appear tbou in the likeness of a figh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am fatisfied. Cry but Ah me! couple but love and dove, Speak to my goflap Venus one fair word, One nick-name to her pur-blind son and heir : (Young Abrebam Cupid, he that shot fo 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 Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high fore-head, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesns 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,

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To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle,
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
'Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down ;
That were some spight. My invocation is
Honest 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 consorted 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 with 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 deep: Come, fhall we go?

Ben. Go, then, for 'tis in vain jalos To seek him here that means not to be found. [Exeunt,

SCENE changes to Capulet's Garden..

Enter Romeo
Rom. E jefts at fcars, that never felt a wound

breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the fun!

(Juliet appears above, at a windows. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious 'inoon, Who is already fack and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious: Her vestal livery is but fick and green, And none but fools do wear it; caft it offShe speaks, yet he says nothing ; what of that? Her eye discourses ; I'will answer itI am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks : Two of the faireft ftars of all the heav'n, Having some business, do intreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres 'till they return.

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