Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,[515]
Remembering how I love thy company.
Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, 175
Forgetting any other home but this.[516]
Jul. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
And yet no farther than a wanton's bird,[517]
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,[518]
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 180
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,[519]
So loving-jealous of his liberty.[520]
Rom. I would I were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow[521] 185
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.[521][522] [Exit.
Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast![521]
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest![521]
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,[521][523]
His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.[521] [Exit.190
Scene III. Friar Laurence's cell.[524]
Enter Friar Laurence, with a basket.[525]
Fri. L. The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,[526]
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;[526][527]
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels[526][528]
From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:[526][529]
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 5
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours[530]
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.[531]
The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;[532]
What is her burying grave, that is her womb: 10
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find,
Many for many virtues excellent,[533]
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies 15
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:[534]
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;[535]
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:[536] 20
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometime's by action dignified.[537]
Within the infant rind of this small flower[538]
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:[539]
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part,[540] 25
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.[541]
Two such opposed kings encamp them still[542]
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.[543] 30