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Scene VI. Friar Laurence's cell.

Enter Friar [Laurence] and Romeo.

Friar. So smile the heavens upon this holy act

That after-hours with sorrow chide us not!

Rom. Amen, amen! But come what sorrow can,

It cannot countervail the exchange of joy

That one short minute gives me in her sight.

Do thou but close our hands with holy words,

Then love-devouring death do what he dare-

It is enough I may but call her mine.

Friar. These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

And in the taste confounds the appetite.

Therefore love moderately: long love doth so;

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.

A lover may bestride the gossamer

That idles in the wanton summer air,

And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.

Friar. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more

To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue

Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both

Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his substance, not of ornament.

They are but beggars that can count their worth;

But my true love is grown to such excess

cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

Friar. Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone

Till Holy Church incorporate two in one.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III.

Scene I. A public place.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Men.

Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad.

And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl,

For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the

confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says

'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the second

cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in

Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for

one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man

that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast.

Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other

reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye

would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as

an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as

addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrell'd with a man

for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that

hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a

tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with another

for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt

tutor me from quarrelling!

Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy

the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee simple? O simple!

Enter Tybalt and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.

Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.

Gentlemen, good den. A word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us?

Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.

Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make

minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my

fiddlestick; here's that