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 :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? Ben. 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; 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; A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Ben. Soft, I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. [Going. Rom. 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 you love. Ben. Groan? why, no; 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 I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. 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 spring 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 bless 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. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more : [Exeunt. SCENE II.A Street. Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [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. 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-e'en, good fellow. Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 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; Li |