Page 3173 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Nor aught so good but, strain’d from that fair use, [15]
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,
And vice sometime’s by action dignified.

Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rind of this weak flower
Poison hath residence, and medicine power; [20]
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
Being tasted, stays 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 [25]
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

ROMEO

Good morrow, father.

FRIAR LAURENCE

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. [30]
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 [35]
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 LAURENCE

God pardon sin. Wast thou with Rosaline? [40]

ROMEO

With Rosaline! My ghostly father, no.