Page:Romeo and Juliet (Dowden).djvu/159

SC. III. And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Digressing from the valour of a man; Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too: The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend, And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: A pack of blessings light upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,