Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,
And vice sometime’s by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this weak flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed kings encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, – grace and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter Romeo.
Romeo
Good morrow, father.
Friar Lawrence
Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper’d head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.
Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye,
And where care lodges sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou art uprous’d with some distemperature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight.
Romeo
That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
Friar Lawrence
God pardon sin. Wast thou with Rosaline?
Romeo
With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No.
I have forgot that name, and that name’s woe.
Friar Lawrence
That’s my good son. But where hast thou been then?
Romeo
I’ll tell thee ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me
That’s by me wounded. Both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies.
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Friar Lawrence
Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Romeo
Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet