« AnteriorContinua »
Enter MONTAGUE and Lady MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet, - Hold me not, let
La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a
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 With purple fountains issuing from your veins, On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
3 And hear the sentence of your moved prince.Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet and Montague, Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets; And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partizans", in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate : If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away : You, Capulet, shall go along with me; And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants ; CAPULET,
Lady CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and
Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of
your 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. La. Mon. 0, where is Romeo ! saw you him
to-day? 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: 1, 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 daylight out, And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ?
Mon. 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, 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.
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,
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
Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
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
No, coz, I rather weep.
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
Soft, I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Ron. 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
love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben.
Groan ? why no; But sadly tell me, who.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his :
[Act 1. [Аст
Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill !
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov’d.
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. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes : 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? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
vow, 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.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ; Examine other beauties.
Rom. To call her's, 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.
'Tis the way