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And flecked a darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's fiery wheels :
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must up-fill this osier 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 from 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 weak flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
In man as well as herbs,-grace, and rude will;
And, where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter Romeo.
Rom. Good morrow, father!
Fri.

Benedicite !
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;

a Fleckeddappled.

But where unbruised youth with unstuft'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.

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline ?

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good son : But where hast thou been

then ?
Rom. I 'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That 's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies;
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
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;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I 'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here !
Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline !
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste !

The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet :
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then-
Women may fall, when there 's no strength in men.

Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad’st me bury love.
Fri.

Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love now,
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;
The other did not so.
Fri.

0, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I 'll thy assistant be ;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

Rom. 0, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Fri. Wisely, and slow ; Tbey stumble, that run fast.

Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-A Street.

Enter Benvolio and Mercurio.
Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?-
Came he not home to-night?

Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that

Rosaline,
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house."

Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answer it.
Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.

Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench’s black eye; shot thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin a of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt ?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ? Mer. More than prince of cats,b I can tell you., 0, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom : the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the puncto reverso ! the hay!

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents !-By Jesu, a very good blade!-a very tall man !-a very good whore ! Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashionmongers, these pardon-mes, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons !

Enter Romeo. Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring :-0, flesh, & The centre of the target, where the pin fastened the clout.

b Tybert is the name given to the cat in the story of Reynard the Fox.

c Prick-song, music pricked, or noted, down, so as to read according to rule ; in contradistinction to music learnt by the ear, or snng from memory.

flesh, how art thou fishified !-Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in : Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench;marry, she had a better love to berhyme her : Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots ; Thisbé, a grey eye or so,a but not to the purpose. --Signior Romeo, bon jour ! there 's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you ?

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; b can you not conceive?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.

Mer. That's as much as to say-such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning—to court'sy.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous exposition.
Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rom. Pink for flower.
Mer. Right.
Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered.c

Mer. Sure wit. Follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular.

Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness !

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits fail.

Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I 'll cry a match.

a The grey eye--the blue eye-was the most beautiful. In the Venus and Adonis,' Venus says, “ Thine eyes are grey."

b Slip was the common name for counterfeit money.

. The pump was the shoe. We retain the word. The ribbons in the pump were shaped as flowers.

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