La Moun. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

Ben. Here were the fervants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting, ere I did approach;
I drew to part them: In the inftant came
The fiery Tibalt, with his fword prepar❜d,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds.
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
'Till the Prince came.

La. Moun. O where is Romeo!

Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd fun
Peep'd through the golden window of the East,
A troubled mind drew me from company;
Where underneath the grove of fycamour,
That weftward rooteth from this city fide,
So early walking did I fee your fon.
Tow'rds 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 bufied when they're most alone,
Pursued my humour, not pursuing his;

† And gladly fhun'd, who gladly fled from me.
Moun. Many a morning hath he there been seen

With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew;

b Edition 1597. Instead of which it is in the other editions thus. by my own, Which then most fought, where moft might not be found,

Being one too many by my weary self,

Pursued my humour, &c.

+ The ten lines following not in Ed. 1597, but in the next of 1599.

VOL. VI.

I i

But

But all fo foon as the all-cheering fun
Should, in the farthest 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?
Moun. I neither know it, nor can learn it of him.
† Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means?
Moun. Both by my felf and many other friends;
But he, his own affection's counsellor,

Is to himself (I will not fay how true)
But to himself so fecret and so close,
So far from founding and discovery;
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the fame.

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

Enter Romeo.

Ben. See where he comes: so please you step aside,
I'll know his grievance, or be much deny'd.

Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true fhrift. Come, madam, let's away.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom. Is the day so young?

Ben. But new ftruck nine.

Rom. Ah me, fad hours feem long!

[Exe

Was that my father that went hence fo fast?

Ben. It was: what sadness lengthens Remeo's hours?

Rom.

These two Speeches alfo omitted in Ed, 1597. but inferted in 1599.

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 fo gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.

Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled ftill,
Should without eyes fee path-ways to his will:
Where shall we dine?- O me! ---- What fray was here?

1871

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!
Oh any thing of nothing firft create!

O heavy lightness! ferious vanity!

Mif-shapen chaos of well-feeming forms!

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick health!
Still-waking fleep, that is not what it is:

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Dost thou not laugh?

Ben. No coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what?

Ben. At thy good heart's oppreffion.

Rom. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;
Which thou wilt propagate to have them prest
With more of thine; this love that thou haft fhewn
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of fighs,
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers eyes,
Being vext, a fea nourish'd with lovers tears;
What is it elfe? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preferving fweet:
Farewel, my cozen.

Ii 2

[Going. Ben.

Ben. Soft, I'll go along.

And if you leave me fo, you do me wrong.
Rom. But I have loft my self, I am not here,
This is not Romeo, he's fome 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 fadly tell me, who.
Rom. Bid a fick man in sadness make his will
O word, ill urg'd to one that is fo ill-

In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov'd.
Rom. A right good marks-man, and she's fair I love.
Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
Rom. But in that hit you miss, fhe'll not be hit
With Cupid's arrow; fhe hath Dian's wit:
And in ftrong proof of chastity well arm'd,

From love's weak childish bow, fhe lives unharm’d.
She will not stay the fiege of loving terms,
Nor bide th' encounter of affailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to faint-feducing gold.
O fhe is rich in beauty; only poor,

That when the dies, with beauty dies her store.

Ben. Then he hath fworn, that she will still live chate?

† 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 wife; wifely too fair,

To merit bliss by making me despair;
She hath forfworn to love, and in that vow

Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forgot to think of her.
Rom. O teach me how I fhould forget to think.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;

Examine other beauties.

None of the following speeches of this Scene in the first edition of 1597.

Rom.

Rom. 'Tis the way

To call hers (exquifite) in queftion more:
Those 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 eye-sight lost.
Shew me a mistress that is paffing fair;
What doth her beauty ferve but as a note,
Where I may read who past that passing fair?
Farewel, thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or elfe die in debt.
SCENE

III.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and fervant.

Cap. And Mountague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard
For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both,
And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds fo long:
But now, my lord, what say you to my fuit?
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 fummers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than fhe are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too foon marr'd are those so early made:
The earth hath fwallowed all my hopes but fhe. *
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,

My will to her consent is but a part;

[Exeunt.

If