Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.
Can I continue on while my heart stays here? I’ll be
nothing but an empty body unless I go back to find my heart.
Moves away. Enter BENVOLIO with MERCUTIO
ROMEO moves away. BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO enter.
Romeo, my cousin Romeo! Romeo!
Romeo! Cousin Romeo! Romeo!
He is wise,
And, on my life, hath stol’n him home to bed.
He’s smart. I’d bet my life he’s snuck off home to go
He ran this way and leapt this orchard wall.
Call, good Mercutio.
He ran this way and jumped this orchard wall. Call him,
* * * * *
10 * * * *
15 * * * *
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 nickname for her purblind son and heir,
Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true
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.
No, I’ll summon him as I would a spirit. Romeo! Humors!
Madman! Passion! Lover! Appear to me in the form of a sigh. Speak just a
single rhyme, and I’ll be satisfied. Cry out, “Ah me!” Say “love” and “dove.”
Say one pretty word to my good gossiping friend Venus. Say the nickname of
her blind son and heir, Cupid, who shot arrows so accurately and made King
Cophetua fall in love with a beggar maid.—Romeo doesn’t hear me, stir, or
move. The little monkey is dead, so I must conjure him to appear.— By
Rosaline’s bright eyes, by her high forehead and her red lips, by her fine
feet, straight legs, and trembling thighs, and by parts of her that lie next
to her thighs, I summon you to appear before us in your actual form.
An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
You’ll make him angry if he hears you.
* * *
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. In his mistress’ name
I conjure only but to raise up him.
This won’t make him angry. It would anger him if I
conjured a strange spirit into her room that she then slept with. That would
really anger him. But what I’m saying is fair and honest. I’m just saying the
name of his love in order to call him out from the darkness.
Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
To be consorted with the humorous night.
Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
Come on. He’s hidden within these trees to be alone
with the night. His love is blind, so its fitting he share it with the dark.
* * *
35 * * * *
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.—
O Romeo, that she were! Oh, that she were
An open arse, and 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?
If love is blind, it can’t hit the target. He’ll sit
under a medlar tree and wish his love were one of those fruits that women,
when they’rea alone, joke look like female. Oh Romeo, I wish she were! I wish
she was an open-arse, and that you were a “pop her in” pear. Good night,
Romeo. I’m off to my little trundle bed. It’s too cold in this field for me
to sleep here. Come on, Benvolio, shall we leave?
Go, then, for ’tis in vain
To seek him here that means not to be found.
Let’s go. It would be worthless to search for someone
who doesn’t want to be found.