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Thus from my lips, by thine, my fin is pu Killing her,

Tyb. Patience perforce, with wilful choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand (12)

(TO Juliet. 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 faints lips, and holy palmers too?

Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Rom. O then, dear faint, let lips do what hands do :

They pray, (grant thou) lest faith turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers' lake. Rom. I hen move not, while my prayers' effect I take :

(, Ful. Then have my lips the sin that late they took.

Rom. Sin from my lips ! O trespass, sweetly urg'd-! Give me my fin again.

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

[To ber Nurse, Nurse. Marry, bachelor,

(12) If I profane with my unwort by band This boly porine, the gentle fin is this, My lips, iwo blufbing pilgrims, &c.] All profanations are suppos'd to be expiated either by some meritorious action, or by some penance undergone and punishment submitted to. So, Romeo would here say, If I have been profane in the rude touch of my hand, my lips ftand ready, as two blushing pilgrims, to take off that offence, to atone for it, by a sweet penance. Our Poet therefore must have wrote

-ibe gentle fine is this. So, in Two Gentlemen of Verona.

My penance is to call Lucetta back,
And ask remiffion for my folly paft.

Mr. Warburton.

Her

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 her,
Shall have the chink.

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

Bin. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear, the more is my

unrest.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
We have a triðing foolish banquet towards.
Is it e'en so ? why, then, I thank you all.
I thank you, honest gentlemen, good night :
More torches here~come on, then let's to bed,
Ah, firrah, by my fay, it waxes late.
l'll to my reft.

[Fx'unt.
Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yon gentleman ?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What’s he, that now is going out of door ?
Nurse. That, as I think, is young Petruchio.
Jul. What's he, that follows here, that would not
Nurse. I know not.

[dance ? Jul. Go, ak his name.--If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse. 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?

Yul. 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. Now 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.

Nov

B 3
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Now R-meo is belov'd, and loves again,

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

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

To breathe such vows as lovers use to fwear ; And she, as much in love, er means much less,

To meet her new-beloved any where : But passion lends them power, Time means, to meet; Temp’ring extremities with extream sweet.

[Exit Chorus.

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ACT II.

SCENE, The STREET.

C41

Enter Romeo alone.

Romeo.
ANI

go
forward when

my

heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center oat.

(Exit. Enter Benvolio, with Mercutio. Ben. Romeo, my cousin Romeo.

Mer. He is wife,
And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed.

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

Mer. Nay, l'll conjure too.
Who, Romeo! humours ! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a figh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied.
Cry but Ay me ! couple but love and dove,
Speak to my goslip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name to her pur-blind son and heir ;

(Young

(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot fo true, (13)
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 Refaline's bright eyes,
By her high fore-head, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, itraight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Ben. And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

Mar. This cannot anger him : 'twould anger him,
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 conforted 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 wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,
Which maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
Romeo, good night;'l'll to my truckle-bed,

(13) Young Abraham Cupid, be ibåt jhoot so true, When King Copbetua lov'd the beggar-maid.j Tho' I have not disturbed the text, I conceive, there may be an error the word Abra.' bam. I have no idea, why Cupid should have this prænomen. I have suspected that the Poet wroie,

Yourg auborn Cupid, i. e, brown-hair'd: because in several other passages where arborn should be wrote, it is printed Abrabam in the old books.' This old ballad of the King enamour'd of the Beggar, is twice again alluded to by our Author in his Love's Labour's Loji.

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

Motb. The world was guilty of such a ballaw, fome three ages fince, but, I think, now 'cis not to be found.

And Armad, afterwards, in his fustian letter, names both the King and the Beggar.

The magnanimous and most illustrate King Copbelua set eye upon the pernicious and most indubitate Beggar Zenelopban,

B4

This

This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep :
Come, shall we go?

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

SCENE changes to Capulet's Garden.

Enter Romeo. Rom.

But, soft! what light thro' yonder window It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun ! [breaks

(Juliet appears above, at a window. Arise, fair Sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than the. Be not her maid, fince she is envious: Her veftal livery is but fick and green, And none but fools do wear it; cast it offShe speaks, yet the says nothing; what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer itI am too bold, 'tis not to me the speaks : Two of the faireft ftars of all the heav'n, Having some bufiness, do intreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres 'till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As day-light doth a lamp; her eyes in heav'n Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would fing, and think it were not night: See, how she leans her cheek opon her hand ! O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!

Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She speaks.
Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art (14)

(14) O, speak again, brigbe angel ! for ibox ar's As glorious to ibis night, ] Tho' all the printed copies concur in this seading, yet the latter part of the fimile seems to require,

As glorious toebis fight; and therefore I have ventur'd to alter the text fo. inc. Thou appear'it, over my head, as glorious to my eyes, as an angel in the clouds to mortals that tare up at him with admiration.

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