Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
Act 2 - Scene 3
Friar Laurence’s cell.
Friar Laurence : The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
[p]Chequering the
eastern clouds with streaks of light,
[p]And flecked darkness like a
drunkard reels
[p]From forth day's path and Titan's fiery
wheels:
[p]Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
[p]The day to
cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
[p]I must up-fill this osier cage
of ours
[p]With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
[p]The
earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
[p]What is her burying grave
that is her womb,
[p]And from her womb children of divers kind
[p]We
sucking on her natural bosom find,
[p]Many for many virtues
excellent,
[p]None but for some and yet all different.
[p]O, mickle is
the powerful grace that lies
[p]In herbs, plants, stones, and their
true qualities:
[p]For nought so vile that on the earth doth
live
[p]But to the earth some special good doth give,
[p]Nor aught so
good but strain'd from that fair use
[p]Revolts from true birth,
stumbling on abuse:
[p]Virtue itself turns vice, being
misapplied;
[p]And vice sometimes by action dignified.
[p]Within the
infant rind of this small flower
[p]Poison hath residence and medicine
power:
[p]For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each
part;
[p]Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
[p]Two such
opposed kings encamp them still
[p]In man as well as herbs, grace and
rude will;
[p]And where the worser is predominant,
[p]Full soon the
canker death eats up that plant.
Romeo : Good morrow, father.
Friar Laurence : Benedicite!
[p]What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
[p]Young son,
it argues a distemper'd head
[p]So soon to bid good morrow to thy
bed:
[p]Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
[p]And where care
lodges, sleep will never lie;
[p]But where unbruised youth with
unstuff'd brain
[p]Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth
reign:
[p]Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
[p]Thou art up-roused
by some distemperature;
[p]Or if not so, then here I hit it
right,
[p]Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Romeo : That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
Friar Laurence : God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Romeo : With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
[p]I have forgot that name, and
that name's woe.
Friar Laurence : That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?
Romeo : I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
[p]I have been feasting with
mine enemy,
[p]Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
[p]That's by me
wounded: both our remedies
[p]Within thy help and holy physic
lies:
[p]I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
[p]My intercession
likewise steads my foe.
Friar Laurence : Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
[p]Riddling confession
finds but riddling shrift.
Romeo : Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
[p]On the fair daughter
of rich Capulet:
[p]As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
[p]And
all combined, save what thou must combine
[p]By holy marriage: when
and where and how
[p]We met, we woo'd and made exchange of
vow,
[p]I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
[p]That thou
consent to marry us to-day.
Friar Laurence : Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
[p]Is Rosaline, whom thou
didst love so dear,
[p]So soon forsaken? young men's love then
lies
[p]Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
[p]Jesu Maria,
what a deal of brine
[p]Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for
Rosaline!
[p]How much salt water thrown away in waste,
[p]To season
love, that of it doth not taste!
[p]The sun not yet thy sighs from
heaven clears,
[p]Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
[p]Lo,
here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
[p]Of an old tear that is not
wash'd off yet:
[p]If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes
thine,
[p]Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
[p]And art thou
changed? pronounce this sentence then,
[p]Women may fall, when there's
no strength in men.
Romeo : Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Friar Laurence : For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Romeo : And bad'st me bury love.
Friar Laurence : Not in a grave,
[p]To lay one in, another out to have.
Romeo : I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
[p]Doth grace for grace
and love for love allow;
[p]The other did not so.
Friar Laurence : O, she knew well
[p]Thy love did read by rote and could not
spell.
[p]But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
[p]In one respect
I'll thy assistant be;
[p]For this alliance may so happy prove,
[p]To
turn your households' rancour to pure love.
Romeo : O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Friar Laurence : Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
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Next: Act 2 - Scene 4
