Scene III. Friar Laurence’s cell.

           EnterFriarLaurence,withabasket

           FriarLaurenceThegrey-eyedmornsmilesonthefrowningnight,

           Chequeringtheeasterncloudswithstreaksoflight,

           Andfleckeddarknesslikeadrunkardreels

           Fromforthday’spathandTitan’sfierywheels:

           Now,erethesunadvancehisburningeye,

           Thedaytocheerandnight’sdankdewtodry,

           Imustup-fillthisosiercageofours

           Withbalefulweedsandprecious-juicedflowers.

           Theearththat’snature’smotherishertomb;

           Whatisherburyinggravethatisherwomb,

           Andfromherwombchildrenofdiverskind

           Wesuckingonhernaturalbosomfind,

           Manyformanyvirtuesexcellent,

           Nonebutforsomeandyetalldifferent.

           O,mickleisthepowerfulgracethatlies

           Inherbs,plants,stones,andtheirtruequalities:

           Fornoughtsovilethatontheearthdothlive

           Buttotheearthsomespecialgooddothgive,

           Noraughtsogoodbutstrain’dfromthatfairuse

           Revoltsfromtruebirth,stumblingonabuse:

           Virtueitselfturnsvice,beingmisapplied;

           Andvicesometimesbyactiondignified.