HIS wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
Romeo. I fear, too early; for my mind
misgives

Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life clos'd in my breast

By some vile forfeit of untimely death h;
But he that hath the steerage of my course,

Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

SCENE V.

Romeo. What lady 's that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

Romeo. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear,

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows;

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight,
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

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Romeo. If I profane with my unworthy hand [To Juliet This holy shrine, the gentle fact is this,

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.

Romeo. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Juliet. Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's

sake.

Romeo. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take; Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd.

[Kissing her. Juliet. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd. Give me my sin again.

Juliet.

You kiss by the book.

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Romeo. What is her mother?

Nurse.

Marry, bachelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,

And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous :
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal.
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
Shall have the chinks.

Romeo. Is she a Capulet?

O dear account! My life is my foe's debt.

Benvolio. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

Romeo.

Juliet. Come hither, nurse: what is yon gentleman?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

Juliet. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.

Juliet. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance?

Nurse. I know not.

Juliet. Go, ask his name:-if he be married

My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague;

The only son of your great enemy.

Juliet. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me

That I must love a loathed enemy.

ACT II. SCENE II.

Romeo. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound-
[Juliet appears above at a window.

But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
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,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious;

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.—

It is my lady; O, it is my love;

O, 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 she speaks :
Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
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 eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, 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!

Juliet.

Romeo.

Ah me!

She speaks :

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white, upturned, wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Juliet. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be not sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Romeo. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Juliet. 'Tis but a name, that is my enemy:Thou art thyself, though, not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
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 myself.

Romeo.

I take thee at thy word;

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd.

Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

[Aside.

Juliet. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel?

Romeo.

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.

Juliet. My ears have not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound.

Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Romeo. Neither, fair saint—if either thee dislike. Juliet. 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,