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Enter Montague and Lady Montague.
Mon. Thou villain Capulet,-Hold me not, let me go.
La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
Enter Prince, with Attendants.
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants; Capulet, Lady
Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar❜d;
La. Mon. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him today?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd* forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where,-underneath the grove of sycamore, That westward rooteth from the city's side,So early walking did I see your son: Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me, And stole into the covert of the wood: I, measuring his affections by my own,That most are busied when they are most alone,— Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his, 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-
Enter Romeo, at a distance.
Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Is the day so young?
Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. 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?
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
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love :-
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health;
No, coz, I rather weep.
Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. 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. 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 marks-man-And she's fair
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. She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
* In seriousness.
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste;
For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
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.
"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.
Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. Cap. 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.
* i. e. What end does it answer?