[Sc. VI.]
Enter Romeo alone.
Ro: Shall I goe forward and my heart is here?
Turne backe dull earth and finde thy Center out.
Enter Benuolio Mercutio.
Ben: Romeo, my cosen Romeo.
Mer: Doest thou heare he is wise,
Vpon my life he hath stolne him home to bed. 5
Ben: He came this way, and leapt this Orchard wall.
Call good Mercutio.
Mer: Call, nay Ile coniure too.
Romeo, madman, humors, passion, liuer, appeare thou in
likenes of a sigh: speek but one rime & I am satisfied, cry 10
but ay me. Pronounce but Loue and Doue, speake to
my gossip Venus one faire word, one nickname for her
purblinde sonne and heire young Abraham: Cupid hee
that shot so trim when young King Cophetua loued the
begger wench. Hee heares me not. I coniure thee by 15
Rosalindes bright eye, high forehead, and scarlet lip, her
prettie foote, straight leg, and quiuering thigh, and the
demaines that there adiacent lie, that in thy likenesse
thou appeare to vs.
Ben: If he doe heare thee thou wilt anger him. 20
Mer: Tut this cannot anger him, marrie if one shuld
raise a spirit in his Mistris circle of some strange fashion,
making it there to stand till she had laid it, and coniurde
it downe, that were some spite. My inuocation is faire
and honest, and in his Mistris name I coniure onely but 25
to raise vp him.
Ben: Well he hath hid himselfe amongst those trees,
To be consorted with the humerous night,
Blinde in his loue, and best befits the darke.
Mer: If loue be blind, loue will not hit the marke, 30
Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree,
And wish his Mistris were that kinde of fruite,
As maides call Medlers when they laugh alone.
Ah Romeo that she were, ah that she were
An open Et cætera, thou a poprin Peare. 35
Romeo God night, il'e to my trundle bed:
This field bed is too cold for mee.
Come lets away, for tis but vaine,
To seeke him here that meanes not to be found.
Ro: He iests at scars that neuer felt a wound: 40
But soft, what light forth yonder window breakes?
It is the East, and Iuliet is the Sunne,
Arise faire Sunne, and kill the enuious Moone
That is alreadie sicke, and pale with griefe:
That thou her maid, art far more faire than she. 45
Be not her maide since she is enuious,
Her vestall liuerie is but pale and greene,
And none but fooles doe weare it, cast it off.
She speakes, but she sayes nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourseth, I will answere it. 50
I am too bold, tis not to me she speakes,
Two of the fairest starres in all the skies,
Hauing some busines, doe entreat her eyes
To twinckle in their spheares till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head, 55
The brightnes of her cheekes would shame those stars:
As day-light doth a Lampe, her eyes in heauen,
Would through the airie region streame so bright,
That birdes would sing, and thinke it were not night.
Oh now she leanes her cheekes vpon her hand, 60
I would I were the gloue to that same hand,
That I might kisse that cheeke.
Iul: Ay me.
Rom: She speakes, Oh speake againe bright Angell:
For thou art as glorious to this night beeing ouer my head, 65
As is a winged messenger of heauen
Vnto the white vpturned woondring eyes,
Of mortals that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lasie pacing cloudes,
And sailes vpon the bosome of the aire. 70
Iul: Ah Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Denie thy Father, and refuse thy name,
Or if thou wilt not be but sworne my loue,
And il'e no longer be a Capulet.
Rom: Shall I heare more, or shall I speake to this? 75
Iul: Tis but thy name that is mine enemie.
Whats Mountague? It is nor hand nor foote,
Nor arme, nor face, nor any other part.
Whats in a name? That which we call a Rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet: 80
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cald,
Retaine the diuine perfection he owes:
Without that title Romeo part thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee,
Take all I haue. 85
Rom: I take thee at thy word,
Call me but loue, and il'e be new Baptisde,
Henceforth I neuer will be Romeo.
Iu: What man art thou, that thus beskrind in night,
Doest stumble on my counsaile? 90
Ro: By a name I know not how to tell thee.
My name deare Saint is hatefull to my selfe,
Because it is an enemie to thee.
Had I it written I would teare the word.
Iul: My eares haue not yet drunk a hundred words 95
Of that tongues vtterance, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo and a Mountague?
Ro: Neyther faire Saint, if eyther thee displease.
Iu: How camst thou hether, tell me and wherfore?
The Orchard walles are high and hard to clime, 100
And the place death considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen finde thee here.
Ro: By loues light winges did I oreperch these wals,
For stonie limits cannot hold loue out,
And what loue can doo, that dares loue attempt, 105
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
Iul: If they doe finde thee they will murder thee.
Ro: Alas there lies more perrill in thine eyes,
Then twentie of their swords, looke thou but sweete,
And I am proofe against their enmitie. 110
Iul: I would not for the world they shuld find thee here.
Ro: I haue nights cloak to hide thee from their sight,
And but thou loue me let them finde me here:
For life were better ended by their hate,
Than death proroged wanting of thy loue. 115
Iul: By whose directions foundst thou out this place.
Ro: By loue, who first did prompt me to enquire,
I he gaue me counsaile and I lent him eyes.
I am no Pilot: yet wert thou as farre
As that vast shore, washt with the furthest sea, 120
I would aduenture for such Marchandise.
Iul: Thou knowst the maske of night is on my face,
Els would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeks:
For that which thou haste heard me speake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faine faine denie, 125
What I haue spoke: but farewell complements.
Doest thou loue me? Nay I know thou wilt say I,
And I will take thy word: but if thou swearst,
Thou maiest proue false:
At Louers periuries they say Ioue smiles. 130
Ah gentle Romeo, if thou loue pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinke I am too easely wonne,
Il'e frowne and say thee nay and be peruerse,
So thou wilt wooe: but els not for the world,
In truth faire Mountague, I am too fond, 135
And therefore thou maiest thinke my hauiour light:
But trust me gentleman Ile proue more true,
Than they that haue more cunning to be strange.
I should haue bin strange I must confesse,
But that thou ouer-heardst ere I was ware 140
My true loues Passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yeelding to light loue,
Which the darke night hath so discouered.
Ro: By yonder blessed Moone I sweare,
That tips with siluer all these fruit trees tops. 145
Iul: O sweare not by the Moone the vnconstant Moone,
That monthlie changeth in her circled orbe,
Least that thy loue proue likewise variable.
Ro: Now by
Iul: Nay doo not sweare at all, 150
Or if thou sweare, sweare by thy glorious selfe,
Which art the God of my Idolatrie,
And il'e beleeue thee.
Ro: If my true harts loue
Iul: Sweare not at al, though I doo ioy in thee, 155
I haue small ioy in this contract to night,
It is too rash, too sodaine, too vnaduisde,
Too like the lightning that doth cease to bee
Ere one can say it lightens. I heare some comming,
Deare loue adew, sweet Mountague be true, 160
Stay but a little and il'e come againe.
Ro: O blessed blessed night, I feare being night,
All this is but a dreame I heare and see,
Too flattering true to be substantiall.
Iul: Three wordes good Romeo and good night indeed. 165
If that thy bent of loue be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow
By one that il'e procure to come to thee:
Where and what time thou wilt performe that right,
And al my fortunes at thy foote il'e lay, 170
And follow thee my Lord through out the world.
Ro: Loue goes toward loue like schoole boyes from their bookes,
But loue from loue, to schoole with heauie lookes.
Iul: Romeo, Romeo, O for a falkners voice,
To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe: 175
Bondage is hoarse and may not crie aloud,
Els would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies
And make her airie voice as hoarse as mine,
With repetition of my Romeos name.
Romeo? 180
Ro: It is my soule that calles vpon my name,
How siluer sweet sound louers tongues in night.
Iul: Romeo?
Ro: Madame.
Iul: At what a clocke to morrow shall I send? 185
Ro: At the houre of nine.
Iul: I will not faile, tis twentie yeares till then.
Romeo I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
Rom: Let me stay here till you remember it.
Iul: I shall forget to haue thee still staie here, 190
Remembring how I loue thy companie.
Rom: And il'e stay still to haue thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.
Iu: Tis almost morning I would haue thee gone,
But yet no further then a wantons bird, 195
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a pore prisoner in his twisted giues,
And with a silke thred puls it backe againe,
Too louing iealous of his libertie.
Ro: Would I were thy bird. 200
Iul: Sweet so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cherrishing thee.
Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Rom: Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace on thy breast, 205
I would that I were sleep and peace of sweet to rest.
Now will I to my Ghostly fathers Cell,
His help to craue, and my good hap to tell.