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Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold :
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

For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, 230
To merit bliss by making me despair:
She hath forsworn to love; and in that 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. 'Tis the way
To call hers, exquisite, in question more:
These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, 240
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair

He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost:
Shew 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 ?
Farewel ; thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.




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, · 250
For men so old as we to keep the peace..

Par, Of honourable reckoning are you both ;
And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, iny lord, what say you to my suit?

Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before :.
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early mad
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth;
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part ;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,

270 One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light : Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel


When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most-shall be:
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, 280
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me :--Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona ; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there; and to them say,
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 med.
dle 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

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 soine new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. 300


Ben. For what, I pray

thee? Rom. For your broken shin, Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mada

man is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipt, and tormented, and - Good-e'en, good

fellow, Sero. 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? 310

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language.
Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry!
Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read.

[He reads the list. ] Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anselm, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mere cutio, and his broiher Valentine ; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.


A fair assembly; Whither should they come?

Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither? to supper ?
Seru. To our house.


Rom. Whose house ??
Serv. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that

Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My Master
is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the
house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup
of wine. Rest you merry.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st;
With all the admired beauties of Verona :
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy'swan a crow.

Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye

Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires!
And these,--who, often drown'd, could never die,-
Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars !

One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her mafch, since first the world beguin.
Ben. Tut!' tut! you saw her fair, none else being

Herself pois'd with herself in either eye:
But in those chrystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid
That I will shew you, shining at this feast,
And she shall scant shew well, that now shews Best.

Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shewh, 350
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [ Exeunt.



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