Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar-tree,
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit[420] 35
As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.[421]
O, Romeo, that she were, O, that she were[422][423]
An open et cetera, thou a poperin pear![423][424]
Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:[425] 40
Come, shall we go?[426]
Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain[426][427]
To seek him here that means not to be found. [Exeunt.
Scene II. Capulet's orchard.[428]
Enter Romeo.[429]
Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
[Juliet appears above at a window.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?[430]
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief, 5
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:[431]
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,[432]
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady; O, it is my love![433] 10
O, that she knew she were![433][434]
She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,[435] 15
Having some business, do intreat her eyes[436]
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 daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven[437] 20
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.[438]
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Jul. Ay me!
Rom. She speaks:[439] 25
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,[440]
As is a winged messenger of heaven[441]
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes[442]
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, 30
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds[443]
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?[444]
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 35
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.