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And therefore thou may'st 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 confess,
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.


ROMEO. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops.

JULIET. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant


That monthly changes in her circled orb,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
ROMEO. 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 love—

JULIET. 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 rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!

ROMEO. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
JULIET. What satisfaction canst thou have to night?
ROMEO. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for

* Bashful.

JULIET. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again.

ROMEO. Woudst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

JULIET. 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.






ROMEO. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy


Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.

The Dawn of Day.

The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked* darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's + wheels.

Early Rising.

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?—
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
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 assure,

Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp❜rature;
Or, if not so, then here I hit it right—
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

* Dappled, spotted.

Titan, used for the sun.

Mercutio's Description of Romeo in Love.

Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin* of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft. †

Love's Heralds.

Love's heralds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

Violent Delights not Lasting.

These violent delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph die: like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.

Lovers light of Foot.

O, so light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint :
A lover may bestride the gossamers
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.


Mercutio's description of a Brawler.

Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, + Cupid's arrow.

Pin of his heart, that is the centre.

having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribbon ? and yet thou wilt tutor me from relling.

Juliet's impatience for Romeo.


Come, night!-Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night!

For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night

Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.—

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine,

That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Romeo's Banishment.

FRIAR LAURENCE. A gentler judgment vanish'd from

his lips,

Not body's death, but body's banishment.

ROMEO. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say death:

For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death: do not say banishment.
FRIAR. Hence from Verona art thou banished:

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

ROMEO. There is no world without Verona walls,

But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence-banished, is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death ;—then banishment,
Is death mis-term'd; calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

FRIAR. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness !
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment,
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

ROMEO. 'Tis torture, and not mercy; heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not.- -More validity
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies than Romeo: they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessings from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banish'd:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.

And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
Had'st thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But-banished-to kill me; banished?

O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,
To mangle me with that word-banishment?

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