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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
  • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)

    60 The Tragedie of Romeoand Iuliet.

    And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st,
    890Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries
    They say Ioue laught, oh gentle Romeo,
    If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully:
    Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne,
    Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay,
    895So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world.
    In truth faire Mountague I am too fond:
    And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light,
    But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true,
    Then those that haue coying to be strange,
    900I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse,
    But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware
    My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me,
    And not impute this yeelding to light Loue,
    Which the darke night hath so discouered.
    905Rom. Lady, by yonder Moone I vow,
    That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops.
    Iul. O sweare not by the Moone, th'inconstant Moone,
    That monethly changes in her circled Orbe,
    Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable.
    910Rom. What shall I sweare by?
    Iul. Do not sweare at all:
    Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe,
    Which is the God of my Idolatry,
    And Ile beleeue thee.
    915Rom. If my hearts deare loue.
    Iuli. Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee:
    I haue no ioy of this contract to night,
    It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden,
    Too like the lightning which doth cease to be
    920Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night:
    This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath,
    May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete:
    Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest,
    Come to thy heart, as that within my brest.
    925Rom. O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied?
    Iuli. What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night?
    Ro. Th'exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine.
    Iul. I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it:
    And yet I would it were to giue againe.
    930Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it,
    For what purpose Loue?
    Iul. But to be franke and giue it thee againe,
    And yet I wish but for the thing I haue,
    My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea,
    935My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee
    The more I haue, for both are Infinite:
    I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:
    Cals within.
    Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true:
    940Stay but a little, I will come againe.
    Rom. O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd
    Being in night, all this is but a dreame,
    Too flattering sweet to be substantiall.
    Iul. Three words deare Romeo,
    945And goodnight indeed,
    If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable,
    Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow,
    By one that Ile procure to come to thee,
    Where and what time thou wilt performe the right,
    950And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay,
    And follow thee my Lord throughout the world.
    Within: Madam.
    I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well,
    I do beseech theee Within: Madam.
    955(By and by I come)
    To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe,
    To morrow will I send.
    Rom. So thriue my soule.
    Iu. A thousand times goodnight. Exit.
    960Rome. A thousand times the worse to want thy light,
    Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes frõ thier books
    But Loue frõ Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes.

    Enter Iuliet agaaine.

    Iul. Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice,
    965To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe,
    Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud,
    Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies,
    And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then
    With repetition of my Romeo.
    970Rom. It is my soule that calls vpon my name.
    How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night,
    Like softest Musicke to attending eares.
    Iul. Romeo.
    Rom. My Neece.
    975Iul. What a clock to morrow
    Shall I send to thee?
    Rom. By the houre of nine.
    Iul. I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then,
    I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
    980Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
    Iul. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there,
    Remembring how I Loue thy company.
    Rom. And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget,
    Forgetting any other home but this.
    985Iul. 'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone,
    And yet no further then a wantons Bird,
    That let's it hop a little from his hand,
    Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues,
    And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe,
    990So louing Iealous of his liberty.
    Rom. I would I were thy Bird.
    Iul. Sweet so would I,
    Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing:
    Good night, good night.
    995Rom. Parting is such sweete sorrow,
    That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow.
    Iul. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest.
    Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest,
    The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night,
    1000Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light,
    And darknesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles,
    From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles.
    Hence will I to my ghostly Fries close Cell,
    His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell. Exit.

    1005Enter Frier alone with a basket.

    Fri. The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night,
    Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light:
    And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles,
    From forth daies path, and Titans burning wheeles:
    1010Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye,
    The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry,
    I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours,
    With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers,
    The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe,
    1015What is her burying graue that is her wombe:
    And from her wombe children of diuers kind