Juliet. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.
Romeo. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
Juliet. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no farther than a wanton's bird; That lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Romeo. I would I were thy bird.
Juliet. Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
[Exit.]
Romeo. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!-- Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.
[Exit.]
Scene III. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
[Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket.]
Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels: Non, 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 gave, 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 plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities: For naught 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 sometimes by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine 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.]
Romeo. Good morrow, father!
Friar. 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; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art uprous'd with some distemperature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right,-- Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Romeo. That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
Friar. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Romeo. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Friar. That's my good son: but where hast thou been then?
Romeo. 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.
Friar. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Romeo. 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.
