Rom. Ben. But new struck nine. 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 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: - O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Ben. Soft, I will go along: An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here; Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. But sadly tell me, who. [Going. Groan! why, no; Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will; A 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. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she 'll not be hit 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, O! she is rich in beauty; only poor, That when she dies with beauty dies her store. Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste? 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: 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. Examine other beauties. To call her's, exquisite, in question more. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years: Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, Such as I love; and you, among the store, Of limping winter treads, even such delight And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Whose names are written there, [Giving a Paper.] and to them say, [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; One desperate grief cures with another's languish : Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. Ben. For what, I pray thee? 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? 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 you merry. Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads. '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 Capulet, his wife, and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena." A fair assembly; whither should they come? Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. Serv. Now, I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st, Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye [Exit. |