not dream that he was near her, a confession of her love. So with an
honest frankness, which the novelty of her situation excused, she
confirmed the truth of what he had before heard, and addressing him by
the name of _fair Montague_ (love can sweeten a sour name), she begged
him not to impute her easy yielding to levity or an unworthy mind, but
that he must lay the fault of it (if it were a fault) upon the accident
of the night which had so strangely discovered her thoughts. And she
added, that though her behaviour to him might not be sufficiently
prudent, measured by the custom of her sex, yet that she would prove
more true than many whose prudence was dissembling, and their modesty
artificial cunning.

Romeo was beginning to call the heavens to witness, that nothing was
farther from his thoughts than to impute a shadow of dishonour to such
an honoured lady, when she stopped him, begging him not to swear; for
although she joyed in him, yet she had no joy of that night's contract:
it was too rash, too unadvised, too sudden. But he being urgent with her
to exchange a vow of love with him that night, she said that she already
had given him hers before he requested it; meaning, when he overheard
her confession; but she would retract what she then bestowed, for the
pleasure of giving it again, for her bounty was as infinite as the sea,
and her love as deep. From this loving conference she was called away by
her nurse, who slept with her, and thought it time for her to be in bed,
for it was near to daybreak; but hastily returning, she said three or
four words more to Romeo, the purport of which was, that if his love was
indeed honourable, and his purpose marriage, she would send a messenger
to him to-morrow, to appoint a time for their marriage, when she would
lay all her fortunes at his feet, and follow him as her lord through the
world. While they were settling this point, Juliet was repeatedly called
for by her nurse, and went in and returned, and went and returned again,
for she seemed as jealous of Romeo going from her, as a young girl of
her bird, which she will let hop a little from her hand, and pluck it
back with a silken thread; and Romeo was as loath to part as she; for
the sweetest music to lovers is the sound of each other's tongues at
night. But at last they parted, wishing mutually sweet sleep and rest
for that night.

[Illustration: AT THE CELL OF FRIAR LAWRENCE]

The day was breaking when they parted, a