Imágenes de páginas

Alike bewitched by the charm of Looks :
But to his Foe supposid he must complain,
And she steal Love's sweet bait from fearful Hooks.
Being held a Foe, he may not have access
To breath such Vows as Lovers use to swear;
And she as much in Love, her means much less,
To meet her new Beloved any where :
But Pallion lends them Power, Time Means to meet,
Tempting Extremities with extream sweet.

SCENE II. The Street.

[ocr errors]

Exter Romeo alone.




Rom. Can I go forward when my Heart is here? Turn back, dull Earth, and find my Center out.

Enter Benvolio with Mercutio.
Ben. Romeo, my Cousin Romeo, Romeo.

Mer. He is wise,
And on my Life hath stoln him home to Bed.

Ben, He ran this way, and leap'd this Orchard Wall.
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.
Romeo Humours, Madman, Passion, Lover,
Appear thou in the likeness of a figh,
Speak but one time, and I am fatisfied:
Cry me but Ay me! couple but Love and Day;
Speak to my Goslip Venus one fair Word,
One Nick-name for her pur-blind Son and her,
Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true,
When King Cophetua lov'd the Beggar-maid.
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not,
The Ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright Eyes,
By her high Fore-head, and her Scarlet Lip,
By her fine Foot, streight Leg, and quivering Thigh,
And the Desmeans that there adjacent lye,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

Mer. This cannot anger him, 'twould anger him To raise a Spirit'in his Mistress's Circle,


Of some strange Nature, letting it there ftand
'Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down ;
That were some spight.
My Invocation is fair and honest, and in his Mistress's Name
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these Trees,
To be consorted with the humorous Night :
Blind is his Love, and best befits the dark.

Mer. If Love be blind, Love cannot hit the Mark.
Now will he fit under a Medlar-tree,
And with his Mistress were that kind of Fruit,
Which Maids call Medlars when they laugh alone :
O, Romeo, that she were, O that she were
An Openor thou a Poprin Pear ;
Romeo, good Night, I'll to my Truckle-bed,
This Field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
Come, shall we go?

Ben, Gothen, for 'tis in vain to seek him here,
That means not to be found.


SCENE III. A Garden.

Enter Romeo.
Rom. He jests at Scars that never felt a Wound----
But soft, what Light thro' yonder Window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun :
[Juliet appears above at a Window,

Arise, fair Sun, and kill the envious Moon,
Who is already sick and pale with Grief,
That thou, her Maid, art far more fair than she,
Be not her Maid fince she is envious,
Her vestal Livery is but fick and green,
And none but Fools do wear it, cast it off:
It is my Lady, O it is my Love-- that she knew she were !
She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
Her Eye discourses, I will answer it
I am too bold, 'tis not to me the speaks :
Two of the fairest Stars of all the Heaven,
Having some Business, do intreat her Eyes
To twinkle in their Spheres 'till they return.
What if her Eyes were there, they in her Head,

[ocr errors]


The brightness of her Cheek would shame those Stars,
As Day-light doch a Lamp; her Eye in Heaven,
Would through the airy Region stream so bright,
That Birds would fing, and think it were not Night:
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. Ah me!

Rom. She speaks.
Oh speak again, bright Angel, for thou art
As glorious to this Night, being o'er my Head,
As is a winged Messenger from Heaven,
Unto the white upturned wondring Eyes,
Of Mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy puffing Clouds,
And fails upon the Bosom of the Air.

Ful. O Romeo, Romeowherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy Father, and refuse thy Name:
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my Love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear {more, or shall I speak at this? [Aside,

Jul. 'Tis but thy Name that is my Enemy:
Thou art thy self, though not a Mountague.
What's Monntague ? it is not Hand, nor Foot,
Nor Arm, nor Face be some other Name,

Belonging to a Man.
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 callid,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that Title; Romeo, doff thy Name,
And for that Name, which is no part of thee,
Take all my felf.

Rom. 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 bescreen’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 my self,

Because If any

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 Mountague?

Rom. Neither, fair Maid, if either thee dislike.

Jul. How cam'ft thou hither,
Tell me, and wherefore?
The Orchard Walls are high, and hard to climb,
And the place Death, considering who thou art,

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 their Eyes,
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 enquire,
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 knowest 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-- -bur farewel Complements :
Dost thou Love? O, I know thou wilt say, Ay,
And I will take thy Word—yet if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prové false; at Lovers Perjuries,
They say Jove laughs; oh 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 wooe: But else not for the World:
In truth, fair Mountague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my 'Haviour light;
But trust me, Gentleman, I'll prove more true,
Than those that have more Coining to be strange,
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'st, e'er I was ware,
My true Love's Pallion; therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light Love,
Which the dark Night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder Moon I vow,
That tips with Silver all these Fruit-tree tops.

Jul. O swear not by the Moon, th’unconstant Moon,
That monthly changes in her circled Orb,
Lest that thy Love prove likewise variable.

Rom. What shall I swear by?

Jul. Do not swear at all;
Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious felf,
Which is the God of my Idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my Heart's dear love
Jul. 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,
E'er one can say, it lightens. Sweet, good Night,
This bud of Love by Summers ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous Flower when next we meet:
Good Night; good Nightmas sweet Repose and Reft, ?
Come to thy Heart, as that within my Breaft. .

Rom. O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to Night?
Rom. Th’exchange of thy Love's faithful Vow of mine,
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it :

And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it?
Für what purpose, Love?

Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again, And yet I wilh but for the thing I have :


« AnteriorContinuar »