My Bounty is as boundless as the Sea, [Nurfe calls within. Anon, good Nurfe- Sweet Mountague be true: Rom. O bleffed, bleffed Night, I am afraid, Too flattering fweet to be substantial. Re-enter Juliet above. Jul. Three Words, dear Romeo, And good Night indeed. If that thy bent of Love be Honourable, And follow thee, my Lord, throughout the World. [Exit. [Within: Madam. I come, anon-but if thou meaneft, not well, By and by, I come [Within: Madam. To ceafe thy Strife, and leave me to my Grief. Rom. So thrive my Soul. Jul. A thousand times good Night. [Exit. Rom. A thoufand times the worfe to want thy light, Love goes toward Love, as School-boys from their Books, But Love from Love, towards School with heavy Looks. Enter Juliet again. Jal. Hift! Romeo, hift! O for a Falkner's Voice, To lure this Taffel gently back again Bondage is hoarfe and may not fpeak aloud, Elfe would I tear the Cave where Eccho lyes, And make her airy Tongue more hoarfe-Then with The repetition of my Romeo Rom. It is my Soul that calls upon my Name. How filver-fweet found Lovers Tongues by Night, Like fofteft Mufick to attending Ears. Jul. Romeo. Rom. My Sweet. Jul. What a Clock to Morrow Shall I fend to thee? Rom. By the hour of Nine, Jul. I will not fail, 'tis twenty Years 'till then, I have forgot why I did call thee back. Rom. Let me ftand here 'till thou remember it. Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembring how I love thy Company. Rom. And I'll still ftay to have thee ftill forget, Jul. 'Tis almoft Morning, I would have thee gone. Rom. I would I were thy Bird. Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing: Rom. Parting is fuch fweet Sorrow, That I fhall fay Good Night 'till it be Morrow. Jul. Sleep dwell upon thine Eyes, peace in thy Breaft, Would I were Sleep and Peace, fo fweet to Reft. [Exit. From forth Days path-way, made by Titan's Wheels. SCENE IV. A Monastery. Enter Friar Lawrence, with a Basket. Fri. Now e'er the Sun advance his burning Eye, [Exit. The The Earth that's Nature's Mother, is her Tomb, Within the infant Rind of this weak Flower, Full foon the Canker Death eats up that Plant. Fri. Benedicite. What early Tongue fo fweet falutes mine Ear? Rom. That laft is true, the sweeter Reft was mine. Fri. God pardon Sin; waft thou with Rofaline? Rom. With Rofaline, my Ghoftly Father? No. I have forgot that Name, and that Name's Woe. Fri. That's my good Son: but where haft thou been then? Rom. Rom. I'll tell thee e'er thou ask it me again; Fri. Be plain, good Son, reft homely in thy drift, Rom. Then plainly know my Heart's dear Love is fet As mine on hers, fo hers is fet on mine; And all combin'd, fave what thou must combine Fri. Holy Saint Francis, what a Change is here? Hath wafht thy fallow Cheeks for Rofaline? Fri. Not in a Grave, To lay one in, another out to have. Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I love now The The other did not fo. Fri. Oh fhe knew well, Thy Love did read by Rote, that could not spell; For this Alliance may fo happy prove, To turn your Houfhold-rancour to pure Love. SCENE V. The Street. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. [Exeunt Mer. Where the Devil fhould this Romeo be? came he not home to Night? Ben. Not to his Father's, I spoke with his Man. Mer. Why that fame pale hard-hearted Wench, that Rofaline, torments him fo, that he will fure run mad. Ben. Tybalt, the Kinfman to old Capulet, hath fent 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 Mafter how he dares, being dared. Mer. Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, ftabb'd with a white Wench's black Eye, run through the Ear with a Love-fong, the very Pin of his Heart cleft with the blind Bow-boy's but-fhaft; and is he a Man to Encounter Ty balt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than Prince of Cats. Oh he's the Couragi ous Captain of Compliments; he fights as you fing prickfongs, keeps time, diftance, and proportion; he refts his minum, one, two, and the third in your Bofom; the very Butcher of a filk Button, a Duellift, a Duellift; a Gentleman of the very first House of the firft and fecond Cause; Ah the immortal Paffado, the Punto reverfo, the HayBen. The what? Mer. The Pox of fuch antique lifping affecting Phantafies, these new turners of Accent-Jefu, a very good blade, |