One nick-name to her pur-blind fon and heir :
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true,
9 When King Copbetua 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 forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesns that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An' if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him,

Mer. This cannot anger him: 'would anger him, To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle, Of some strange nature, letting it there stand 'Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; That were some spight. My invocation is Honest and fair, and, in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be conforted with the hum'rous 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 wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,
Which maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
Romeo, good-night ; I'll to my truckle-bed,
This field-bed is too cold for me to Neep:
Come, shall we go!

Ber. Go, then, for 'tis in vain
To seek him here that means not to be found.


9 When King Cophetua, &c.] Allading to an old ballad. Pope.

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1 Rom. E jests at scars, that never felt a wound

But, soft! what light thro' yonder win

dow 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, since she is envious ;
Her vestal livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off
3 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 the speaks :
Two of the fairest stars of all the heav'n,
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 day-light doth a lamp ; her eyes in heav'n
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would fing, and think it were not night:

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1 He jests at scars,] That is, votary to the moon, to Diana. Mercutio jests, whom he over 3 It is my lady ;-) This line heard.

and half I have replaced. 2 Be not her maid,] Be not a

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 Sight, being o'er my head,
As isą winged messenger from heav'n,
Unto the white-upturned, wondring, eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him ;
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeowherefore art thou Ro


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 ?

[ Afide. Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy : 6 Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face nor any other part. What's in a name ? that which we call a rose,

4 O, speak again, bright An a Montague ]i.e. you would gel! for thou art

be just what you are, altho' you As glorious to this night,] Tho' were not of the house of Mon. all the printed copies concur in. iague.

WARBURTON. this reading, yet the latter part I think the true reading is, of the Simile seems to require, Thou art thifelf, then not a As glorious to this Sight;

Montague. and therefore I have ventured to Thou art a being of peculiar exalter the text so. THEOBALD. cellence, and haft none of the

s--the lazy-pacing clouds ] malignity of the family, from Thus correcled from the firit edi which thou halt thy name. tion, in the other lazy-puffing. Hanmer reads,

Pope, Thou're not thyself so, though 6 Thou art tbyfelf, though not a Montajue.

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By any other name would smell as sweet.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo calld,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that title ; Romeo, quit thy name ;
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

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

So stumbleft 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 that tongue's uttering, yet I know the found. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ?

Rom. Neither, fair Saint, if either theç disike.
Jul. How cam'ft thou hither, tell me, and where-

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

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 fartheft sea,
I would 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 farewel compliment ! Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say, ay; And I will take thy word—yet if thou swear's, Thou may'st prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. Oh, gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully; Pr if you think, 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 Montague, I am too fond, And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light; But trust me, Gentleman, l'll prove more true, Than those that have more coying to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou over-heard'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 To discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, Thar tips with flver all these fruit-tree tops .

7 coying to be Arange.] For coying, the modern editions have сипning:


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