Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 1

Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

Can I walk on when my heart stays here? Turn back, heavy body of earth, and find your centre.

Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo!

Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo!

He is wise, And on my life hath stol’n him home to bed.

He's being sensible, and I'd bet my life he's slipped off home to bed.

He ran this way, and leap’d this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio.

He ran this way and jumped over this orchard wall. Call him, good Mercutio.

Nay, I’ll conjure too. Romeo! Humours! Madman! Passion! Lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but ‘Ah me!’ Pronounce but Love and dove; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid. He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

No, I'll cast a spell as well. Romeo! Moods! Madman! Passion! Lover! Appear in the shape of a sigh! Say just one rhyme and I'll be satisfied. Just cry "Ah me!" Just say "Love" and "dove." Say one kind word to my old friend Venus, one mocking name for her half-blind son and heir, young Abraham Cupid, the one who shot so neatly when King Cophetua fell in love with the beggar-maid. He doesn't hear, he doesn't stir, he doesn't move. The monkey is dead, and I'll have to conjure him up. I conjure you by Rosaline's bright eyes, by her high forehead and her scarlet lip, by her fine foot, straight leg, and trembling thigh, and by the lands that lie next to them, that you appear before us in your own shape.

An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

If he hears you, you'll make him angry.

This cannot anger him. ’Twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle, Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it, and conjur’d it down; That were some spite. My invocation Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress’ name, I conjure only but to raise up him.

This can't make him angry. It would anger him if I raised up some strange kind of spirit inside his mistress's circle and left it standing there until she had laid it and conjured it down — that would be spiteful. My summons is fair and decent: using his mistress's name, I'm only conjuring to raise him up.

Come, he hath hid himself among these trees To be consorted with the humorous night. Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Come on, he's hidden himself among these trees to keep company with the damp, moody night. His love is blind, and darkness suits it best.

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. O Romeo, that she were, O that she were An open-arse and thou a poperin pear! Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed. This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. Come, shall we go?

If love is blind, love can't hit the target. Now he'll sit under a medlar tree and wish his mistress were that kind of fruit the girls call medlars when they laugh together on their own. Oh Romeo, if only she were, oh if only she were an open-arse and you a poperin pear! Romeo, good night. I'm off to my little rolling bed. This bed of open field is too cold for me to sleep in. Come on, shall we go?

Go then; for ’tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found.

Let's go, then, because it's pointless to look here for a man who doesn't want to be found.