Iul. Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice,
To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe,
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud,
Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies,
And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then
With repetition of my Romeo
Rom. It is my soule that calls vpon my name.
How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night,
Like softest Musicke to attending eares
Iul. Romeo
Rom. My Neece
Iul. What a clock to morrow
Shall I send to thee?
Rom. By the houre of nine
Iul. I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then,
I haue forgot why I did call thee backe
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it
Iul. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there,
Remembring how I Loue thy company
Rom. And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this
Iul. 'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone,
And yet no further then a wantons Bird,
That let's it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues,
And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe,
So louing Iealous of his liberty