LITMIR.BIZ

      Nurse. Marry, bachelor,

      Her mother is the lady of the house.

      And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous.

      I nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal;

      I tell you, he that can lay hold of her.

      Shall have the chinks.

      Capulet. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;

      We have a trifling foolish banquet towards..

      Is it e'en so? why then, I thank you all;

      I thank you, honest gentlemen, good-night.

      More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.

      Ah, sirrah [to Second Capulet], by my fay, it waxes late;

      I'll to my rest.

      Juliet. My only love sprung from my only hate!

      Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

      Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

      That I must love a loathed enemy.

      Chorus. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,

      And young affection gapes to be his heir;

      That fair for which love groan'd for, and would die,

      With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.

      Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again.

      Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;

      But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,

      And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks.

      Being held a foe, he may not have access

      To breathe such vows as lovers us'd to swear;

      And she as much in love, her means much less

      To meet her new beloved anywhere.

      But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,

      Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

      Mercutio. Nay, I'll conjure too.

      Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!

      Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh.

      Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;

      Cry but 'Ah me!' pronounce but Love and dove;

      Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

      One nickname for her purblind son and heir,

      Young auburn Cupid, he that shot so trim

      When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid!

      He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not.

      The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.

      I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,

      By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,

      By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,

      And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,

      That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

      Mercutio. This cannot anger him 'twould anger him

      To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle,

      Of some strange nature, letting it there stand