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I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu!
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-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; 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,
Nurse. [Within.] Madam.
By and by, I come :-
So thrive my soul,
[Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.Love
goes toward love, as school-boys from their books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
[retiring Nowly. Re-enter JULIET, above. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, 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
Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name :
Jul. Romeo !
My sweet !
At what o'clock to-morrow
At the hour of nine.
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remem'bring 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 :
Rom. I would, I were thy bird.
Sweet, fo would I:
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, [Exit.
Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket. Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And Aecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels : Now ere the fun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this ofier 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 : 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 herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities : For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give ; Nor aught so good, but, strain'd froni that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; And vice sometime 's by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and med'cine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, says all senses with the heart. Two such opposed foes encamp them still In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
And, where the worser is predominant,
Rom. Good morrow, father!
Rom. That lalt is true, the sweeter rett was mine.
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
Fri. That's my good son: But where haft thou been then?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
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;
Fri. Holy saint Francis! what a change is here !
Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Not in a grave,
Rom. I pray thee, chide not: the, whom I love now, Doth grace
for grace, and love for love allow;
0, she knew well,