In fadnefs, 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 he's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is fooneft hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you mifs: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, the hath Dian's wit; That, when she dies, with beauty dies her ftore. Ben. Then the hath fworn, that she will still live chafte? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge wafte; For beauty, ftarv'd with her feverity, She hath forfworn to love; and, in that vow, Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I fhould forget to think, Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Rom. Where I may read, who pafs'd that paffing fair? SCENE II. A Street. Enter CAPULET, Paris, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men fo old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds fo long. But now, my lord, what fay you to my fuit? Cap. But faying o'er what I have faid before: My child is yet a firanger in the world, She hath not feen 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 fwallow'd all my hopes but he, VOL. IX. Of limping winter treads, even fuch delight And like her moft, whofe merit moft fhall 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 fhoemaker 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 fent to find thofe perfons, whofe names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing perfon hath here writ. I muft to the learned:-In good time. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is leffen'd by another's anguish; Take thou fome new infection to thy eye, Rom. Your plaintain leaf is excellent for that. Rom. For your broken fhin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madmar is: Shut up in prifon, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fellow. Serv. God gi' good e'en :-I pray, fir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my mifery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you fee? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye fay honeftly; Reft you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow? I can read. [Reads. Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anfelme, and his beauteous fifters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valen tine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; My fair niece Rofaline; Livia; Signor Valentio, and bis confin, Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair affembly; [Gives back the note.] Whither fhould they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To fupper; to our house. Serv. My mafter's. Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. a cup Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My mafter is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the houfe of Montagues, I pray, come and crush of wine. Reft you merry. [Exit. Ben. At this fame ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rofaline, whom thou fo lov'ft; With all the admired beauties of Verona : Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with fome that I fhall show, SCENE III. A Room in Capulet's House. La. Cap. Nurfe, where's my daughter? call her forth to me, Nurfe. Now, by my maiden-head, -at twelve year old, I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird!— God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet! Enter JULIET. Jul. How now, who calls? Nurfe. Jul. What is your will? Your mother. Madam, I am here. La. Cap. This is the matter :-Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in fecret.-Nurfe, come back agains |