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He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

Juliet. Thou knows't, the mask of night is on my face ;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke; But farewell compliment !
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say—Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O! gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully :-
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be



So thou wilt woo: but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll

prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered. -Act 2, Sc. 2.

Juliet. Hist! Romeo, hist! O! for a falconer'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's name.

Romeo. It is my soul, that calls upon my name;
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest musick to attending ears!

Juliet. Romeo!
Romeo. My sweet!

I would I were thy bird.

Sweet, so would I;
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say, good night, till it be morrow.-Id.
Priar Laurence. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning


Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's wheels.

#.Sc. 3.
Friar Laurence. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.Id.
Friar Laurence.

Violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die! like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume:- :-Sc. 6. Mercutio. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them

gaze.—Act 3, Sc. 1.
Tybalt. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
No better term than this—Thou art a villain.

Romeo. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting :-Villain am I none;
Therefore, farewell; I see, thou know'st me not.- Id.

Romeo. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

Mercutio. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.-Id.

Romeo. Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But-banished-to kill me ; banished ?

How hast thou the heart
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word—banishment ?

Friar. Thou fond, mad man, hear me but speak a word.
Romeo. O! thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word ;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Romeo. Yet banished ?—Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet.

Friar. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. Romeo. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.--Sc. 3.

(Juliet's chamber. Enter ROMEO and JULIET.)
Juliet. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day :
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree :
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale,

Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envions streaks
Do lace the severing clouds, in yonder east :
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tip-toe on the misty mountain tops;
I must begone and live, or stay and die.
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,
"Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;

Nurse. Madam!
Juliet. Nurse ?

Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber :
The day is broke; be wary, look about. (Exit Nurse.)

Juliet. Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Romeo. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

(Romeo descends.) Juliet. Art thou gone so ? my love! my lord! my friend ! I must hear from thee every day i' the hour, For in a minute there are many days: O! by this count I shall be much in years, Ere I again behold my Romeo. 0! think'st thou, we shall ever meet again ?

Romeo. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.

I have an ill-divining soul:
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

Romeo. And trust me, love, in my eyes so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! Adieu ! (Erit ROMEO.)

-Sc. 5.
Juliet. O! bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears ;

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Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O’ercover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.-Act 4, Sc. 1.

Romeo. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.-Act 5,

Sc. 1.

O! my love, my wife,
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

Eyes, look your last !
Arms, take your last embrace ! lips, O! you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide !
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick, weary bark !
Here's to my love! (Drinks)-0! true apothecary,
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. (Dies.)—Sc. 3.

Hamlet. O! that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! .
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fye on't! O! fye: 'tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature,
Possess it merely. That it should come to this !
But two months dead !-nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr.-Act 1, Sc. 2.

Horatio. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Hamlet. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow student; I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.

Horatio. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon:

Hamlet. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral bak'd meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables
My father,-methinks, I see my father.

My lord ?
Hamlet. In my mind's eye,

Horatio. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.

Hamlet. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.

Horatio. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Hamlet, Saw! who ?
Horatio. My lord, the king your father.

The king my father ?
Horatio. Season your admiration for awhile
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Let me hear.
Horatio. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Arm'd at point exactly, cap-à-,
Appears before them, and with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walk’d,
By their oppress’d and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, distillid
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secresy impart they did ;
And I with them, the third night kept the watch ;
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes : I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.-Id.

Polonius. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for : There,—my blessing with you ; (Laying

his hand on his head) And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

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