Puslapio vaizdai
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Ben. It was: what sadness lengthens Romeo's hours ?
Rom. Nor having That, which, having, makes them

short.
Ben. In love?
Rom. Out.
Ben. Of love?
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 ftill,
Should without eyes see path ways 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!
Oh, any thing of nothing first create !
O heavy lightness ! serious vanity!
Mif-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick 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;
Which thou wilt propagate, to have them prest
With more of thine ; this love, that thou haft shewn,
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 ;
Being vext, a fea nourish'd with lovers tears ;
What is it else ? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preserving sweet :
Farewel, my cousin.

[Going
Ben. Soft, I'll go along.
And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut! I have lost my self, I am not here;

This

Í 3

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This is not Romeo, he's soine other where.
Ben. Tell me in fadness, who she is

you

love?
Rom. What, shall I groan and tell thee?
Ben. Groan ? why, no; but sadly tell me, who.

Rom. Bid a fick man in sadness make his will? -
O word, ill urg'd to one that is so ill!
In sadness, coulin, I do love a woman,

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you loy'd.
Rom. A right good marks-man; and she's fair, 1

love.
Ben. A right fair inark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
Rom. But in that hit you miss ; — she'll

, not be hit
With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit:
And, in strong proof of chastity well arın'd,
From love's weak childish bow, she lives unharm'd.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide th' encounter of aflailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to faint-seducing gold.
O, she is rich in beauty ; only poor,
That when she dies, with her dies Beauty's. Store. (5)

Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chafte."

Rom. She hath, and in that Sparing makes huge wafte,
For beauty, ftarv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair ;.
She hath foresworn to love, and in that vow
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Bę rul’d by me, forget to think of her.
Rom. O, teach me how I thould forget to think.

Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other Beauties.

Rom. 'Tis the way

(5) That, when she dies, with Beauty dies her Store.) This conveys no fatisfactory Idea to me.

I have ventur'd at a sight Transposition, which gives a Meaning, warranted, I think, by what Remeo lays in his very next Speech. She is rich in Beauty, and if the dies a Maid, the cuts off that Beauty from its Succession.

For Beauty, starv’d with her Severity,
Cuts Beauty off from all Pofterity.

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To call hers (exquisite) in question more:
Those happy masks, that kiss fair ladies brows,
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eye-sight loft.
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.

[Exeunt.
Enter Capulet, Paris, and servant.
Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard
For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reck’ning are you Both,
And, pity 'tis, you liv’d at odds so long :
But now, my 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 thofe so early made:
The earth hath swallowed 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 ;
If 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,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven's 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 moft shall be:
Which on morę view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, tho in reck’ning 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 Cap. and Par. Ser. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written, that the Shooe-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tailor with his Laft, 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 aud Romeo. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning

One pain is lefsen'd by another's Anguish; Turn giddy, and be help'd by backward turning;

One desperate grief cure with another's Languish:
Take thou some new infection to the eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

Rom. Your plantan leaf is excellent for That.
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 mad man is :
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipt and tormented; and-Good-e'en, good fellow.

[To the servant, Ser. God gi' good-e’en : I pray, Sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Ser. 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.

Ser.

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Ser. Ye say honestly, reft you merry.
Rom. Stay, fellow, I can read.

[He reads the letter.
Ignior Martino, and bis wife and daughters: Count An-

selm and bis beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vi-
truvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely neices; Mercutio
and his brother Valentine ; mine uncle Capulet, bis wife and
daughters; my fair neice Rosaline ; Livia ; Signior Valentio,
and his cousin Tibalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.
A fair assembly; whither should they come? (6)

Ser. Up:
Rom. Whither?
Ser. To Supper, to our house,
Rom. Whore house?
Ser. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have askt you that before.

Ser. 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. Reft you merry.

[Exit.
Ben. At this same antient Feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st;
With all th' 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 falsehoods, 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! th' all-seeing Sun
Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.

Ben. Tut! tut ! you saw her fair, none else being by;
Her self pois’d with her self, in either eye:

(6) A fair Assembly: Whither should they come ?
Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither? to Supper ?

Serv. To our House.] Romeo had read over the List of invited Guests ; but he must be a Prophet, ' to know they were invited to Supper. This comes much more aptly from the Servant's Answer, than Romeo's Question; and muft undoubtedly be placed to him,

Mr. Warburton.

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