Is to himself I will not say how true, 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. Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift.-Come, madam, let's away. [Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady. 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? Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo'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 anything, of nothing first create ! 2 O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen Chaos of well seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. With more of thine. This love, that thou hast shown, What is it else? a madness most discreet, Ben. Soft, I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. [Going. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here: This is not Romeo, he's some other-where. Ben. Tell me in sadness who she is you love. Rom. What! shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; But sadly tell me who she is you love. 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 mark-man! 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, And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From Love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.3 She will not stay the siege of loving terms; Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes; 4 That, when she dies, with her dies beauty 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, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 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. Oh! 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 to 5 question more. These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, SCENE II. A Street. Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. AND Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, 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.- Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, Such as I love; and you, among the store, And like her most, whose merit most shall be. My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here! It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned.-In good time. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; And the rank poison of the old will die. Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. Rom. For your broken shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and . . . Good-den, good fellow. Serv. God gi' good den. I pray, sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; rest ye merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reuds. Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The Lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Ca pulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair assembly! [Gives back the Note.] Whither should they come? Serv. Up... |