Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage By thee, old Capulet and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets; Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, فو If ever you disturb our streets again, 100 [Excunt Prince, CAPULET, &. 111 Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach ?Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, 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, La. Mon. O, where is Romeo!-saw you him to day? Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. 120 130 I, measuring his affections by my own, But all so soon as the all-cheering sun 140 And private in his chamber pens himself; Black Black and portentous must this humour prove, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? But he, his own affections' counsellor, 150 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 deny'd. Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift,-Come madam, let's away. 160 Ben. Good morrow, cousin, Rom. Is the day so young. Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. Ay me! sad hours seem long. [Excunt. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was:-What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Biij Rom. i Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them short. Ben. In love? Rom. Out Ben. Of love ? 170 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 path-ways to his will! here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. love: Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 180 Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!- Dost thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Ben. At thy good heart's opppression. 190 With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown, Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Ben. Soft, I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. 200 [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. 1 210 Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: O 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. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; She will not stay the siege of loving terms, 221 Nor |