Rom. I would I were thy Bird
Iul. Sweet so would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing: Good night, good night
Rom. 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, Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light, And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles, From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles. Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell, His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell. Enter.
Enter 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: Now 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, What is her burying graue that is her wombe: And from her wombe children of diuers kind We sucking on her naturall bosome find: Many for many vertues excellent: None but for some, and yet all different. O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue, But to the earth some speciall good doth giue. Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse, Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified. Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rind of this weake flower, Poyson hath residence, and medicine power: For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part, Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart. Two such opposed Kings encampe them still, In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will: And where the worser is predominant, Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant
Rom. Good morrow Father
Fri. Benedecite. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head, So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed; Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye, And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye: But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne; Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure, Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right. Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine
Fri. God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No, I haue forgot that name, and that names woe
Fri. That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then? Rom. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen: I haue beene feasting with mine enemie, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded: both our remedies Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies: I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe My intercession likewise steads my foe
Fri. Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift, Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift
Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set, On the faire daughter of rich Capulet: As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine By holy marriage: when and where, and how, We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow: Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray, That thou consent to marrie vs to day