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The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb, | It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;

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 walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt:
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder
thee.
[eye,
Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but
And I am proof against their enmity. [sweet,
Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee
here.
[their sight;
Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from
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?
[inquire;
Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to
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 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 farewell, compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say-Ay,
And I will take thy word :-yet, if thou

swear'st,

Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say Jove laughs. O 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 woo; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour
light:

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be
strange.
[fess,

I should have been more strange, I must con-
.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.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-
Jul. O swear not by the moon, th' inconstant

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 self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not swear: altho' I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night;

meet.

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 flow'r when next we
[rest
Good-night, good-night!-a sweet repose and
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-
night?

Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful
vow for mine.

[quest it:
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst re-
And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what

purpose, love?

Jul. 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.
I hear some noise within: dear love, adieu!
[Nurse calls within.
Anon, good nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.
Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
All this is but a dream I hear and see;
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.
Re-enter Juliet above.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good-
night indeed.

If that thy bent of love be honorable, [row,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-mor-
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.
[Within: Madam!]
I come anon- -But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee-[Within: Madam!] By
and by, I come-

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my soul.

Jul. A thousand times good-night! [Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy light.

Enter Juliet again.
Jul. Hist! Romeo! hist! O, for a falcon-
er'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
With repetition of my Romeo's name. [mine,

Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name:
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!

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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.
A Lover's Impatience.
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
To Phoebus' mansion, such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-peforming night!
That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untaĺk'd of, and unseen!
Lovers can see to do their am'rous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
li best agrees with night.

Romeo, on his Banishment. [death:
Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say
For exile hath more terror in his look [ment.
Much more than death: do not say banish-
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona's
walls,

But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished, is banished from the world,
And world's exile is death; then banishment
Is death misterm'd calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. 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 banishinent:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. '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 honorable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
But Romeo may not, he is banished! knife,
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground
Nosudden 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 profest,
To mangle me with that word-banishment?
Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak

a word.

[ment!
Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banish-
Fri. I'll give thee armor to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished? Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
It helps not, it prevails not; talk no more.
Fri. O then I see that madmen have no ears.
Rom. How should they, when that wise
men have no eyes?

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou
dost not feel:

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou
tear thy hair,

And fall upon the ground, as I now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Juliet's Chamber, looking to the Garden. Enter Romeo and Juliet above at a Window; a Ladder of Ropes sel.

Jul. Wilt thou begone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I;
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to
death;

I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;

Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay, than will to go.
Come death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Juliet's Resolution.

O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring
Or shut me nightly in a charnel house; [bears;
O'ercover'd quitewith dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud-
Things that to hear them told have made me
tremble;

And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
Juliet's Soliloquy on drinking the Potion.
Farewell God knows when we shall meet
again!

I have a faint cold fear thrills thro' my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me.-
Nurse!-what should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone:
Come, phial.-What if this mixture do not
work at all?

Must I of force be married to the county?
No, no! this shall forbid it—lie thou there.
[Pointing to a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd, to have me dead;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonor'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man:
I will not entertain so bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, [in,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place-
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort-
Alack! alack! is it not like that I

So early waking-what with loathsome smells;
And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad-
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Invironed with all these hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And in this rage, with some great kinsman's
bone,

As with a club, dash out my desp'rate brains?
O look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Secking out Romeo, that did spit his body

Upon a rapier's point!-Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

[She throws herself on the Bed.
Joy and Mirth turned to their contraries.
All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change:
Our bridal flow'rs serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
Romeo's Description of, and Discourse with,
the Apothecary.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means:-O mischief! thou art swift

To enter in the thoughts of desperate men.
I do remember an apothecary-
And hereabouts he dwells-whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hang,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins,
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green carthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
An if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but fore-run my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house :
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
What, ho! apothecary!

Enter Apothecary.

Ap. Who calls so loud?

Rom. Come hither, man-I see that thou

art poor;

Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer,
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently, as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Man-
tua's law

Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,

And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks;
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes;
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery;
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law:
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to
men's souls,

Doing more murders in this loathsome world Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell:

I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me noneFarewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Romeo and Paris.

Par. Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Mon

tague;

Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?
Condemned villain! I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me, for thou must die.
Rom I must indeed; and therefore came I
hither.

Good gentle youth, tempt not a desp'rate man ;
Fly hence and leave me think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. O, be gone!
By Heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations,
And do attach thee as a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at
thee, boy. [They fight, Paris fulls.
Par. O, I am slain! if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.
Rom. In faith, I will let me peruse this
face;

Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris.
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think
He told me, Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so ? or did I dream it so ?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so ?-O, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
Romeo's last Speech over Juliet in the Vault.
O my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy
breath,

Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty :
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.-
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favor can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!—Ah, dear Juliet !
Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean, abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here, will I remain, [here
With worms that are thy chambermaids-O,
Will I set up my everlasting rest;

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your
last!

Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-
Come, bitter conduct! come, unsav'ry guide!
Thou desp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick, weary bark!

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THE painting is almost the natural man ; For since dishonor traffics with man's nature, He is but outside: these pencil'd figures are Even such as they give out.

I

The Grace of a Cynic Philosopher. Immortal gods! I crave no pelf; pray for no man but myself: Grant I may never prove so fond To trust man on his oath or bond; Or a harlot, for her weeping; Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping; Or a keeper, with my freedom; Or my friends, if I should need 'em. Amen! Amen! so fall to't, Rich men sin, and I eat root. A faithful Steward.

So the gods bless me,

When all our offices have been opprest
With riotous feeders; when our vaults have

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Do what they would; are sorry-you are honorable

But yet they could have wish'd-they know not-but

Something hath been amiss-a noble nature May catch a wrench-would all were well'tis pity

And, so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps, and cold moving nods, They froze me into silence.

Tim. You gods reward them!Pr'ythee, man, look cheerly: these old fellows Have their ingratitude in them hereditary : Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind; And nature, as it grows again towards earth, Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy. Against Duelling.

Your words have took such pains, as if they labor'd

To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling

Upon the head of valor; which, indeed,
Is valor misbegot, and came into the world,
When sects and factions were but newly born.
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe, and make
[carelessly;

his wrongs His outsides; wear them, like his raiment,

And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.

Without the Walls of Athens.

Timon's Execrations on the Athenians.
Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall,
That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth,
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incon-
tinent !

Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench,
And minister in their steads! to general filths
Convert o' the instant, green virginity!
Do't in your parents' eyes! Bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your trusters' throats! Bound servants,
steal!

Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law! Maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! Piety and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries, [men,
And yet confusion live!-Plagues incident to
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke!-Thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;
That gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath;
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
A Friend forsaken.

As we do turn our backs
From our companion thrown into his grave,
So his familiars to his buried fortunes
Slink all away; leave their false vows with
him,

Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.
On Gold.

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And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st
odds

Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature.
Timon to Alcibiades.

Go on-here's gold-go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison
In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honor'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit

matron ;

It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk
paps,

That thro' the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ;
But set them down horrible traitors. Spare
not the babe,
[mercy.
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse. Swear against ob-
jects;

Put armor on thine ears and on thine eyes, Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,

Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy sol

diers :

Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! speak not, begone.
To the Courtezans.
Consumptions sow

In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's
That he may never more false title plead, [voice,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh,
And not believes himself: down with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him that, his particular to foresee,
Smells from the gen'ral weal: make curl'd-
pate ruffians bald,

And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you.

Timon's Reflections on the Earth.
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft,
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven,
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root:
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb!
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!

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