Act II, Scene i: An open place adjoining Capulet's Garden.
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| | Romeo.: | |
| | Can I go forward when my heart is here? | |
| | Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. | |
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[He climbs the wall and leaps down within it.]
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| | Benvolio.: | |
| | Romeo! my cousin Romeo! | |
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| | Mercutio.: | |
| | He is wise; | |
| | And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed. | |
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| | Benvolio.: | |
| | He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: | |
| | Call, good Mercutio. | |
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| | 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! | |
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| | Benvolio.: | |
| | An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. | |
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| | Mercutio.: | |
| | This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him | |
| | To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle, | |
| | Of some strange nature, letting it there stand | |
| | Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down; | |
| | That were some spite: my invocation | |
| | Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, | |
| | I conjure only but to raise up him. | |
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| | Benvolio.: | |
| | Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, | |
| | To be consorted with the humorous night: | |
| | Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. | |
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| | Mercutio.: | |
| | If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. | |
| | Now will he sit under a medlar tree, | |
| | And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit | |
| | As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.— | |
| | Romeo, good night.—I'll to my truckle-bed; | |
| | This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: | |
| | Come, shall we go? | |
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| | Benvolio.: | |
| | Go then; for 'tis in vain | |
| | To seek him here that means not to be found. | |
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