_Jul._ I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,[515] Remembering how I love thy company. _Rom._ And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, 175 Forgetting any other home but this.[516] _Jul._ 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no farther than a wanton's bird,[517] Who lets it hop a little from her hand,[518] Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 180 And with a silk thread plucks it back again,[519] So loving-jealous of his liberty.[520] _Rom._ I would I were thy bird. _Jul._ Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow[521] 185 That I shall say good night till it be morrow.[521][522] [_Exit._ _Rom._ Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast![521] Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest![521] Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,[521][523] His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.[521] [_Exit._ 190 SCENE III. _Friar Laurence's cell._[524] _Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE, _with a basket_.[525] _Fri. L._ The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,[526] Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;[526][527] And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels[526][528] From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:[526][529] Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 5 The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours[530] With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.[531] The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;[532] What is her burying grave, that is her womb: 10 And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find, Many for many virtues excellent,[533] None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies 15 In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:[534] For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give;[535] Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:[536] 20 Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime's by action dignified.[537] Within the infant rind of this small flower[538] Poison hath residence, and medicine power:[539] For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part,[540] 25 Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.[541] Two such opposed kings encamp them still[542] 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.[543] 30 _Enter_ ROMEO. _Rom._ Good morrow, father.