2

Benvolio

Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mercutio

A challenge, on my life.

Benvolio

                                          Romeo will answer it.

Mercutio

Any man that can write may answer a letter.

Benvolio

Nay, he will answer the letter's master — how he dares,
being dared.

Mercutio

Alas poor Romeo! He is already dead, stabbed with
a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with a
love-song, the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind
bow-boy's butt-shaft — and is he a man to encounter
Tybalt?

Friar Laurence

Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!               
How much salt water thrown away in waste
To season love that of it doth not taste.
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears —
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.

Friar Laurence

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, blessèd man, for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Juliet

'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone;
And yet no farther than a wanton's bird,
Who lets it hop a little from his 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.

Juliet

                              A thousand times good night!
[Exit, above]

Romeo

A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
[Romeo retiring slowly. Re-Enter Juliet, above]

Juliet

Hist, Romeo, hist! O, for a falc'ner's voice                  
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of my 'Romeo.'

Pages