Scene I

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.

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 conjuresummon a spirit by magic; here, call Romeo out of hiding 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 demesneslands belonging to an estate; here, a sexual joke about Rosaline's body that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

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 mistress’ 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.
O, Romeo, that she were, O, that she were
An open-arse, thou a pop’rin pear!
Romeo, good night: I’ll to my truckle-beda low bed on wheels that can be pushed beneath another 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. Exeunt.