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Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Rom. What shall I swear by ?

Do not swear at all :
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

If my heart's dear love-
Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night :
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden :
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say, it lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night! good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast !

Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night ?
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine,

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose,

love ?
Jul. But to be frank,* and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have :
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

[Nurse calls within.
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu
Anon, good nurse !-Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.


* Free.


Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream :
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.


Love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills :
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love.
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.


SCENE. Juliet's Chamber.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree :
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east :
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops :
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.



Why should you want ? Behold, the earth hath roots; Within this mile break forth a hundred springs ;

The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, Nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want ?
1st Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries,

water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and

fishes: You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess’d; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft In limited* professions. Rascal thieves, Here's gold: go, suck the subtle blood of the grape Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob: take wealth and lives together ; Do villany, do, since you profess to do't, Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery; The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composturet stolen From general excrement: each thing's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough

power Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away; Rob another. There's

gold : cut throats; All that you meet are thieves : to Athens go, Break open shops; nothing can you steal But thieves do lose it.



* For legal.

+ Compost.

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O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce

[Looking on the gold. 'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars ! Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Diana's lap! thou visible god, That solder'st close impossibilities, And makest them kiss ! that speak’st with every tongue To every purpose; O thou touch* of hearts ! Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire !

* For touchstone.


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