Scene i. a lane by the wall of capulet's orchard.
Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it
Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO
Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
He is wise; And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.
He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: Call, good 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 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;' Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved 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!
And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
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 conjured it down; That were some spite: my invocation Is fair and honest, and in his mistres s' name I conjure only but to raise up him.
Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
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, that she were, O, that she were An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear! Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go?
Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found.