The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must upfiil this osier cage of ours,

With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies

In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities;
For nought 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 to vice, and stumbles 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 med'cine power:
For this, being smelt, with that sense cheers each
part;

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes 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.
Rom. [Without.] Good-morrow, father!
Lau. Benedicite !-

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?

Enter ROMEO.

Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good-morrow to thy pillow;
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges sleep will never bide;
But, where with unstuft brain unbruised youth
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep resides;
Therefore thy earliness assureth me

Thou art up-roused by some distemp❜rature.
What is the matter, son?

Rom. I tell thee, ere thou ask it me again,
I have been feasting with mine enemy;

Where, to the heart's core, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies

Within thy help and holy physic lie.

Lau. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is

set

On Juliet, Capulet's fair daughter:

As mine on her's, so her's is set on mine :

But when, and where, and how,

We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vows,

I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I beg,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Lau. Holy Saint Francis!

But, tell me, son, and call thy reason home,
Is not this love the offspring of thy folly,
Bred from thy wantonness and thoughtless brain?
Be heedful, youth, and see thou stop betimes;
Lest that thy rash ungovernable passions,
O'erleaping duty and each due regard,

Hurry thee on, through short-lived, dear-bought pleasures,

To cureless woes and lasting penitence.

Rom. I pray thee, chide me not: She whom I love, Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love: Do thou, with Heaven, smile upon our union; Do not withhold thy benediction from us, But make two hearts, by holy marriage, one. Lau. Well, come, my pupil; go along with me: In one respect I'll give thee my assistance; For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your household rancour to pure love.

Rom. O let us hence; love stands on sudden haste. Lau. Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run [Exeunt.

fast.

SCENE IV.

A Street.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERcutio.

Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?

Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Juliet, torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,

Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead!stabb'd 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 but-shaft !--And is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments: He fights as you sing prick-song; keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest,-one, two, and the third in your bosom; the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very first house,-of the first and second cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay!.

Ben. The what?

Mer. The plague of such antic, lisping, affected fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents!- -Ma foi, a very good blade!-a very tall man!-a very fine wench Why, is not this a lamentable thing,

grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez moi's?

Ben. Here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O. flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flow'd in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to berhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye, or so, but not to the purpose.

Enter ROMEO.

Signior Romeo, bonjour! there's a French salutation for you.

Rom. Good morrow to you both.

Mer. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. Rom. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip: Can you not conceive? Rom, Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.

Enter NURSE and PETER.

Ben. A sail! a sail !

Mer. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.

Nurse. Peter!

Pet. Anon?

Nurse. My fan, Peter.

Mer. Do, good Peter, to hide her face. Nurse. Give ye good-morrow, gentlemen. Mer. Give ye good den, fair gentlewoman. Nurse. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?

Rom. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of

a worse.

Nurse. You say well. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

Ben. She will indite him to supper presently.
Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd!-So ho!
Rom. What hast thou found?

Mer. No hare, sir, but a bawd.-Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner thither. Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady.-Peter, my fan.Farewell, lady. [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his roguery ?

Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.

Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such jacks; and, if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirtgills. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure.

Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you; I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion, in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse. Now, afore heaven, I am so vex'd that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!-Pray you, sir, a word:-And, as I told you, my young lady bid me enquire you out. What she bade me say, I will keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the gentlewoman is young, and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman.

Rom. Commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,-

Nurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her as much, Lord, Lord! she will be a joyful woman.