Should, in the fartheft Eaft, begin to draw Black and portentous muft this Humour prove, Ben. My Noble Uncle, do you know the Caufe? Is to himself (I will not fay how true) Could we but learn from whence his Sorrows grow, Enter Romeo. Ben. See where he comes: fo please you step afide, I'll know his Grievance, or be much deny'd. Moun. I would thou wert fo happy by thy flay, To hear true Shrift. Come, Madam, let's away. [Exeunt. Ben. Good Morrow, Coufin. Rom. Is the day fo young? Ben. But new ftruck nine. Rom. Ah me, fad hours feem long. Was that my Father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was: What fadnefs lengthens Romeo's hours? 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 fo tyrannous and rough in proof. Rom. Alas, that Love, whofe view is muffled ftil!, Should without Eyes, fee path-ways to his will: B 4 Where 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: O heavy Lightnefs, ferious Vanity, Feather of Lead, bright Smoke, cold Fire, fick Health, This Love feel I, that feel no Love in this. Ben. No Coz, I rather weep. Ben. At thy good Heart's Oppreffion. Ben. Soft, I will go along. And if you leave me fo, you do me wrong. Ben. Tell me in fadnefs, who is that you love? [Going. Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov'd. And And in ftrong proof of Chastity well arm'd; That when the dies, with Beauty dies her ftore. Ben. Then the hath fworn, that she will ftill live chaste? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste. For Beauty starv'd with her feverity, Cuts Beauty off from all Pofterity. Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Examine other Beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way to call hers (exquifite) in question morẹ. Those happy Masks that kifs fair Ladies Brows, Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair; He that is ftrucken blind, cannot forget The precious Treafure of his Eye-fight loft. Shew me a Mistress that is paffing fair; What doth her Beauty ferve, but as a Note, Where I may read who paft that paffing fair. Farewel, thou canft net teach me to forget. Ben. I'll pay that doârine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt. Cap. Mountague is bound as well as I, Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both, PAT. < Par. Younger than fhe are happy Mothers made. Cap. And too foon marr'd are those fo early made: Earth up hath fwallowed all my hopes but the, She is the hopeful Lady of my Earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her Heart, My will to her confent is but a part, And the agree, within her fcope of choice Lies my confent, and fair according Voice: This Night, I hoid an old accuftom'd Feaft, Whereto I have invited many a Guest, Such as I love, and you among the store, Once more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poor Houfe, look to behold this Night, Earth-treading Stars that make dark Heav'n light, Such comfort as do lufty young Men feel, When well-apparell'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads, even fuch delight Among fresh Female buds shall you this Night Inherit at my Houfe; hear all, all fee, And like her moft, whofe merit moft shall be: Which one more view, of many, mine being one, May ftand in number, though in reck'ning none. Come, go with me. Go, Sirrah, trudge about, Through fair Verona, find thofe Perfons out, Whofe Names are written there, and to them fay, My House and Welcome on their pleasure ftay. [Ex. Cap. Par. Ser. Find them out whofe Names are written here? It is written, that the Shope-maker fhould meddle with his Yard, and the Tailor with his Laft, the Fisher with his Pencil, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am fent to find thofe Perfons whofe Names are 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, Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning, Rom. Rom. Your Plantan Leaf is excellent for that. Rom. For your broken Shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad Man is: Shut up in Prifon, keep without my Food, Whipt and tormented; and-Good-e'en, good Fellow. He reads the Letter.. Ignior Martino, and his Wife and Daughter: Count Anfelm and his beauteous Sifters; the Lady Widow of Vitruvio, Signior Placentino, and his lovely Nieces; Mercutio and his Brother Valentine; mine Uncle Capulet, his Wife and Daughters; my fair Niece Rofaline, Livia, Signior Valentio, and his Confin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lovely Helena. A fair Affembly; whither should they come ? Rom. Whither? to Supper? Ser. To our House. Rom. Whofe House? Ser. My Mafter's. Rom. Indeed I fhould have askt you that before. Ser. Now I'll tell you without asking. My Mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the House of Mountagues, I pray come and crush a Cup of Wine. Reft you merry. Ben. At this fame ancient Feast of Capulets, [Exit. Rom. |