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What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, 45
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for thy name which is no part of theo
Take all myself.

I take thee at thy word.
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Jul. What man art thou that thus be-

screen'd in night So stumblest on my counsel ? Rom.

By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee;. Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred

words Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo and a Montague ? Rom. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dis

like. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and

wherefore ? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er

perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder

thee. Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine

eye Than twenty of their swords ! Look thou but

sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee

here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from And but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out

this place? Rom. By Love, that first did prompt me to

inquire ; He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest

sea, I should adventure for such merchandise. Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on

my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to

night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke; but farewell compliment ! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say

“Ay," And I will take word; yet, if thou swear'st,

Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour

light; But trust me, gentleman, I 'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be

strange. I should have been more strange, I must con

fess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, My true love's passion; therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the incon

stant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Rom. What shall I swear by?

Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I 'll believe thee.

If my heart's dear loveJul. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in

thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night; It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to

be Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good-night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening

breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we

meet. Good-night, good-night! as sweet repose and Come to thy heart as that within my breast !

Rom. 0, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to

night? Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful

vow for mine. Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst re

quest it; And yet I would it were to give again. Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what

purpose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.

[Nurse) calls within. I hear some noise within ; dear love, adieu ! Anon, good nurse ! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.

(Erit, above.] Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.




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(Re-enter JULIET, above.] Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good

night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morBy one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the And all my fortunes at thy foot I 'll lay And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

(Nurse.] (Within.) Madam Jul. I come, anon. -- But if thou mean'st

not well, I do beseech thee

(Nurse.] (Within.) Madam! Jul.

By and by, I come: To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief. To-morrow will I send. Rom.

So thrive my soul — Jul. A thousand times good-night!

(Exit (above). Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want

thy light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their

books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

(Retiring.) Re-enter JULIET, above. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's

voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than

mine, With repetition of my (Romeo's name.] Romeo !

Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name. How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by

Like softest music to attending ears !
Jul. Romeo !
Rom. My dear?

What o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?

By the hour of nine.
Jul. I will not fail; 't is twenty year till

then. I have forgot why I did call thee back, Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember

it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand

there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company, Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still

forget, Forgetting any other home but this. Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee

gone;And yet no farther than a wanton's bird ; That lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silken thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.


Rom. I would I were thy bird.

Sweet, so would I; Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good-night, good-night! Parting is such sweet

sorrow, That I shall say good-night till it be morrow.

(Exit, above.) Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in

thy breast ! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. 190

(Exit. (SCENE III. Friar Laurence's cell.] Enter FRIAR (LAURENCE), with a basket. Fri. L. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the

frowning night, Chequ’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of

light, And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels. Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; 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, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true quali

ties; For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give, Nor anght so good but, strain'd from that fair

use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. 30 Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; And vice sometime's by action dignified.

Enter ROMEO. Within the infant rind of this weak flower Poison hath residence and medicine power; For this, being smelt, with that part cheers

each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
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. 30

Rom. Good morrow, father.
Fri. L.

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distempered head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, 36
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd

brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth

reign; Therefore thy earliness doth me assuro Thou art up-rous'd with some distemper ure;














Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Rom. That last is true; the sweeter rest was

Fri. L. God pardon sin! Wast thou with

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father?

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. L. That's my good son; but where

hast thou been, then? Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies. I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. Fri. L. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy

drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know my heart's dear love

is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, save what thou must com

bine By holy marriage. When and where and how We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of

VOW, I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us to-day. Fri. L. Holy Saint Francis, what a change is

Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! 70
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans yet ring in mine ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.
If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline.
And art thou chang'd ? Pronounce this sentence
Women may fall, when there's no strength in
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosa-

Fri. L. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'st me bury love.
Fri. L.

Not in a grave, To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee, chide me not. Her I love Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; The other did not so. Fri. L.

O, she knew well Thy love did read by rote that could not spell. But come, young waverer, come, go with me, In one respect I 'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love.


Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden

haste. Fri. L. Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

(Eseunt. (SCENE IV. A street. ] Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?

Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench,

that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. 6

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answer it.
Mer. Any man that can write may answer a

letter. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo ! he is already dead; stabb'd with a white wench's black eye; run through the ear with a love song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's buttshaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? u

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments. He fights

you sing prick-song; keeps time, distance, and proportion; he rests his minim (a rests, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button; a duellist, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso ! the hai!

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accent! “By Jesu, a very good blade ! a very tall man! a very good whore !" Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashionmongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? 0, their bones, their bones! 87

Enter ROMEO. Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring: O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified ! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in. Laura to his lady was a kitchen-wench, marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her;

Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; Helen and so Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the

purpose. Signior Romeo, bonjour ! There's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you ?

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ; can you not comceive ?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business


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was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning, to curtsy.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous exposition.
Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rom. Pink for flower.
Mer. Right.
Rom. Why, then is my pump well flower'd.

Mer. Sure wit! Follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular.

Rom. O single-sol'd jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

Rom. Switch and spars, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose ?

Rom. Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there for the goose.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Rom. Nay, good goose,

bite not. Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.

Rom. And is it not, then, well sery'd in to a sweet goose ?

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad !

Rom. I stretch it out for that word “broad” which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love ? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo, now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature; for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, stop there.

Mer. Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the hair.

Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd; I would have made it short; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. Rom. Here's goodly gear!

Enter NURSE and her man (PETER).
A sail, a sail !

Mer. Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!
Peter. Anon!
Nurse. My fan, Peter.

Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. 118
Mer. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good den?


Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are

Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.

Nurse. By my troth, it is well said ; "for himself to mar," quoth 'a! Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?

Rom. I can tell you ; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of that name,

for fault of a worse. Nurse. You say well.

Ner. Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i' faith ; wisely, wisely.

Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

Ben. She will indite him to some supper. 185
Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho!
Rom. What hast thou found ?

Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

[Sings.) 140 An old hare hoar,

And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in lent;

But a hare that is hoar

Is too much for a score,

When it hoars ere it be spent.' Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farowell, (singing] “lady, lady, lady."

(Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. Nurse. I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?

Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.

Nurse. An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skainsmates. — And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure ? 184

Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure ; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out. I warrant you, I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vex'd, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word : and as I told you, my young lady bid me inquire you out; what she bid me say,

I will keep to myself. But first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very (175 gross kind of behaviour, as they say ; for the gentlewoman is young, and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be off'red to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.








181 woman.






you, sir.

hear say,


Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee

Nurse. Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? Thou dost not mark me.

Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

Rom. Bid her devise
Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.

Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Rom. Go to; I say you shall.

Nurse. This afternoon, sir ? Well, she shall be there. Rom. And stay, good nurse ; — behind the

abbey wall Within this hour my man shall be with thee, 200 And bring thee cords made like a tackled

stair; Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse ?

Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er “Two may keep counsel, putting one away"? Rom. I warrant thee, my man's as true as

steel. Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady – Lord, Lord! when 't was a little prating thing, -0, there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a very toad, [215 as see him. I anger her sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer man ; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Rom. Ay, nurse ; what of that ? Both with Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the - No; I know it begins with some other letter - and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.

Rom. Commend me to thy lady. Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. (Exit Romeo.] Peter!

Pet. Anon! Nurse. Before, and apace. (Exeunt. 232 [SCENE V. Capulet's orchard.]

Enter JULIET. Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send

the nurse ; In half an hour she promis'd to return. Perchance she cannot meet him : that's not so. O, she is lame! Love's heralds should be


Which ten times faster glide than the sun's

beams Driving back shadows over louring hills; Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid

wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me; But old folks, marry, feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

Enter NURSE (and PETER). O God, she comes! O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away. Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.

(Erit Peter. Jul. Now, good sweet nurse, - O Lord, why

look'st thou sad ? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nurse. I am a-weary, give me leave a while. Fie, how my bones achel What a jaunce have

I had! Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good

nurse, speak. Nurse. Jesu, what haste! Can you not stay

a while ? Do you not see that I am out of breath? Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou

hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thon dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good, or bad? Answer to that ; Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance. Let me be satisfied, is 't good or bad ? Nurse. Well, you have

made a simple

choice; you know not how to choose a man. Romeo no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for les a hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll war rant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench ; serve God. What, bave you din'd at home?

Jul. No, no ! But all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? What of

that? Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! What a

head have I ! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o' t' other side, -0, my back, my

back! Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with jauncing up and down! Jul. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not




an R.


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