I drew to part them; in the instant came Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun I, measuring his affections by my own,- And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs: But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself; Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out, And makes himself an artificial night: Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. Ben. Have you impórtun'd him by any means? Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends: But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself-I will not say, how true- Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, Enter Romeo, at a distance. Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. Is the day so young? Ah me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? meo's hours? Rom. Not having that, which having, makes them short. Ben. In love? Rom. Out Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, ⚫ Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love :-Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health; Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!— This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, Rom. Good heart, at what? I rather weep. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown, Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. Ben. [Going. Soft, I will go along; Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. But sadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!— In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd, Rom. A right good marksman-And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; (1) In seriousness. And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow, Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more: These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair; He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A street. Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, (1) 2. e. What end does it answer. For men so old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: (1) Account, estimation. (2) To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess. (3) Estimation. |