R&J Act 2, Scene 3

Laurence
Within the infant rind of this small 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.

Good morrow, father.

FRIAR LAURENCE
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE

God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

With Rosaline, my Ghostly Father? no;

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

FRIAR LAURENCE

That's my good son! But where hast thou been, then?

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 LAURENCE

Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;

Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;

And all combined, save what thou must combine

By holy marriage:

And all combined, save what thou must combine

By holy marriage:

when and where and how

We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,

I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,

That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRIAR LAURENCE
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:

And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,

Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Thou chid'st me often for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR LAURENCE

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

And bad'st me bury love.

FRIAR LAURENCE

Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.

I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now

Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;

The other did not so.

FRIAR LAURENCE

O, she knew well

Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.

But come, young waverer, come, go with me,

In one respect I'll thy assistant be;

For this alliance may so happy prove,

To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.