MONTAGUE. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?

Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

109

112

BENVOLIO. 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, Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who parted either part.

LADY MONTAGUE.

him to-day?

117

O! where is Romeo? saw you

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
BENVOLIO. 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 're most alone,
Pursu'd my humour not pursuing his,

120

124

128

And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. MONTAGUE. 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 daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night.

132

136

140

Black and portentous must this humour prove
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

BENVOLIO. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? MONTAGUE. I neither know it nor can learn of him. Have you importun'd him by any

BENVOLIO.

means?

148

MONTAGUE. Both by myself and many other friends: But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself, I will not say how true, But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery,

As is the bud bit with an envious worm,

152

Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure as know.

156

BENVOLIO. See where he comes: so please you, step aside;

I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

MONTAGUE. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let 's away.

Was that my father that went hence so fast ?

BENVOLIO. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

164

ROMEO. Not having that, which having, makes

them short.

BENVOLIO. In love?

ROMEO. Out

BENVOLIO. Of love?

168

ROMEO. Out of her favour, where I am in love. BENVOLIO. Alas! that love, so gentle in his view,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.

ROMEO. Alas! that love, whose view is muffled still,

173

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?

BENVOLIO.

No, coz, I rather

180

weep.

184

ROMEO. Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO. At thy good heart's oppression.
ROMEO. Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate to have it press'd

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.

BENVOLIO. Soft, I will go along;

An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

ROMEO.

here;

188

192

196 [Going.

Tut! I have lost myself; I am not

200

This is not Romeo, he 's some other where.
BENVOLIO. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
ROMEO. What! shall I groan and tell thee?
Groan! why, no;

BENVOLIO.

But sadly tell me who.

ROMEO. 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.

205

BENVOLIO. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd.

ROMEO. A right good mark-man! And she's fair

I love. BENVOLIO.

208

A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
ROMEO. 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,
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
O! she is rich in beauty; only poor

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

212

216

BENVOLIO. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

ROMEO. 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,
To merit bliss by making me despair :
She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

220

224

BENVOLIO. Be rul'd by me; forget to think of her. ROMEO. O! teach me how I should forget to think.

BENVOLIO. By giving liberty unto thine eyes: Examine other beauties.

ROMEO.

'Tis the way

To call hers exquisite, in question more.

228

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

232

The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:

Show me a mistress that is passing fair,

236

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. BENVOLIO. I'l pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The Same. A Street.

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant.

CAPULET. But 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.

PARIS. 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?

5

CAPULET. 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.

8

PARIS. Younger than she are happy mothers made. CAPULET. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

Earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light :
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,

13

16

20

24

28

And like her most whose merit most shall be:
Which on more view, of many mine being one
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving him a paper.] Go,
sirrah, trudge about

32