The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,

2.3.410071001Check'ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light,

2.3.510081002And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels

2.3.610091003From forth day's path, and Titan's burning wheels.

2.3.710101004Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,

2.3.810111005The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,

2.3.910121006I must upfill this osier cage of ours

2.3.1010131007With baleful weeds and precious-juicèd flowers.

2.3.1110141008The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;

2.3.1210151009What is her burying grave, that is her womb,

2.3.1310161010And from her womb children of diverse kind

2.3.1410171011We sucking on her natural bosom find

2.3.1510181012Many for many virtues excellent,

2.3.1610191013None but for some, and yet all different.

2.3.1710201014O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies

2.3.1810211015In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities,

2.3.1910221016For nought so vile that on the earth doth live

2.3.2010231017But to the earth some special good doth give,

2.3.2110241018Nor ought so good but strained from that fair use,

2.3.2210251019Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.

2.3.2310261020Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,

2.3.2410271021And vice sometime by action dignified.

2.3.2610291023Within the infant rind of this weak flower

2.3.2710301024Poison hath residence and medicine power,

2.3.2810311025For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part,

2.3.2910321026Being tasted, stays all senses with the heart.

2.3.3010331027Two such opposèd kings encamp them still

2.3.3110341028In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will,

2.3.3210351029And where the worser is predominant,

2.3.3310361030Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Good morrow, father.

Benedicite!

2.3.3610391033What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

2.3.3710401034Young son, it argues a distempered head

2.3.3810411035So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.

2.3.3910421036Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,

2.3.4010431037And where care lodges, sleep will never lie,

2.3.4110441038But where unbruised youth with unstuffed brain

2.3.4210451039Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.

2.3.4310461040Therefore thy earliness doth me assure

2.3.4410471041Thou art uproused with some distemp'rature,

2.3.4510481042Or if not so, then here I hit it right,

2.3.4610491043Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.

That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline?

With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No,

2.3.5010531047I have forgot that name and that name's woe.

That's my good son, but where hast thou been then?

I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again.

2.3.5310561050I have been feasting with mine enemy,

2.3.5410571051Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,

2.3.5510581052That's by me wounded. Both our remedies

2.3.5610591053Within thy help and holy physic lies.

2.3.5710601054I bear no hatred, blessèd man, for lo

2.3.5810611055My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;

2.3.6010631057Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set

2.3.6210651059On the fair daughter of rich Capulet;

2.3.6310661060As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine,

2.3.6410671061And all combined, save what thou must combine

2.3.6510681062By holy marriage. When, and where, and how

2.3.6610691063We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow,

2.3.6710701064I'll tell thee as we pass, but this I pray,

2.3.6810711065That thou consent to marry us today.

Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!

2.3.7010731067Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,

2.3.7110741068So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies

2.3.7210751069Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

2.3.7310761070Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine

2.3.7410771071Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!

2.3.7510781072How much salt water thrown away in waste

2.3.7610791073To season love that of it doth not taste.

2.3.7710801074The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears

2.3.7810811075Thy old groans yet ringing in mine ancient ears:

2.3.7910821076Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit

2.3.8010831077Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.

2.3.8110841078If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,

2.3.8210851079Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline.

2.3.8310861080And art thou changed? Pronounce this sentence then:

2.3.8410871081Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

And bad'st me bury love.

Not in a grave,

2.3.8910921086To lay one in, another out to have.

I pray thee, chide me not. Her I love now

2.3.9110941088Doth grace for grace and love for love allow.

2.3.9210951089The other did not so.

O, she knew well,

2.3.9410971091Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.

2.3.9510981092But come, young waverer, come, go with me.

2.3.9610991093In one respect I'll thy assistant be:

2.3.9711001094For this alliance may so happy prove

2.3.9811011095To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

O, let us hence, I stand on sudden haste.

Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.