Romeo and Juliet (Quarto 1, 1597)
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795But soft, what light forth yonder window breakes?
¶It is the East, and Iuliet is the Sunne,
¶Arise faire S nne, and kill the enuious Moone
¶That is alreadie sicke and pale with griefe:
¶That thou her maid, art far more faire than she.
¶Her vestall liuerie is but pale and greene,
¶And none but fooles doe weare it, cast it off.
¶To twinckle in their spheares till they returne.
810What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
¶As day-light doth a Lampe, her eyes in heauen,
¶That birdes would sing, and thinke it were not night.
815Oh now she leanes her cheekes vpon her hand,
¶I would I were the gloue to that same hand,
¶Iul: Ay me.
¶For thou art as glorious to this night beeing ouer my
(head,
¶Vnto the white vpturned woondring eyes,
¶Of mortals that fall backe to gaze on him,
¶Iul: Ah Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
¶Denie thy Father, and refuse thy name,
¶Or if thou wilt not be but sworne my loue,
830And il'e no longer be a Capulet.
¶Iul: Tis but thy name that is mine enemie.
¶Whats Mountague? It is nor hand nor foote,
835Nor arme, nor face, nor any other part.
¶Whats in a name? That which we call a Rose,
¶So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cald,
840Retaine the diuine perfection he owes:
¶Without that title Romeo part thy name,
¶And for that name which is no part of thee,
¶Take all I haue.
¶Rom: I take thee at thy word,
845Call me but loue, and il'e be new Baptisde,
¶Henceforth I neuer will be Romeo.
¶Iu: What man art thou, that thus beskrind in night,
¶Ro: By a name I know not how to tell thee.
¶My name deare Saint is hatefull to my selfe,
¶Because it is an enemie to thee.
¶Had I it written I would teare the word.
¶Iul: My eares haue not yet drunk a hundred words
855Of that tongues vtterance, yet I know the sound:
¶Art thou not Romeo and a Mountague?
860The Orchard walles are high and hard to clime,
¶And the place death considering who thou art,
¶If any of my kinsmen finde thee here.
865For stonie limits cannot hold loue out,
¶And what loue can doo,that dares loue attempt,
¶Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
¶Iul: If they doe finde thee they will murder thee.
¶Ro: Alas there lies more perrill in thine eyes,
¶And I am proofe against their enmitie.
¶And but thou loue me let them finde me here:
875For life were better ended by their hate,
¶Than death proroged wanting of thy loue.
¶I he gaue me counsaile and I lent him eyes.
880I am no Pilot: yet wert thou as farre
¶Els would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeks:
¶Faine would I dwell on forme, faine faine denie,
¶What I haue spoke: but farewell complements.
¶Ah gentle Romeo, if thou loue pronounce it faithfully:
¶Or if thou thinke I am too easely wonne,
895So thou wilt wooe: but els not for the world,
¶In truth faire Mountague, I am too fond,
¶And therefore thou maiest thinke my hauiour light:
¶But trust me gentleman Ile proue more true,
¶Than they that haue more cunning to be strange.
¶But that thou ouer-heardst ere I was ware
¶My true loues Passion: therefore pardon me,
¶And not impute this yeelding to light loue,
¶That monthlie changeth in her circled orbe,
910Ro: Now by
¶Which art the God of my Idolatrie,
¶And il'e beleeue thee.
915Ro: If my true harts loue
¶I haue small ioy in this contract to night,
¶Too like the lightning that doth cease to bee
¶Deare loue adew, sweet Mountague be true,
940Stay but a little and il'e come againe.
¶All this is but a dreame I heare and see,
¶If that thy bent of loue be honourable?
¶By one that il'e procure to come to thee:
¶Where and what time thou wilt performe that right,
950And al my fortunes at thy foote il'e lay,
¶And follow thee my Lord through out the world.
961.1their bookes,
¶But loue from loue, to schoole with heauie lookes.
¶Iul: Romeo, Romeo, O for a falkners voice,
¶Bondage is hoarse and may not crie aloud,
¶Els would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies
¶And make her airie voice as hoarse as mine,
¶With repetition of my Romeos name.
969.1Romeo?
¶Iul: Romeo?
¶Ro: Madame.
¶Ro: At the houre of nine.
¶Iul: I will not faile, tis twentie yeares till then.
¶Romeo I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
¶Remembring how I loue thy companie.
¶Forgetting any other home but this.
¶But yet no further then a wantons bird,
¶Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
¶And with a silke thred puls it backe againe,
990Too louing iealous of his libertie.
¶Ro: Would I were thy bird.
¶Now will I go to my Ghostly fathers Cell,
¶His help to craue, and my good hap to tell.
