http://www.arcamax.com/plays/b-1461-2
Romeo and Juliet
Benvolio. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Montague. I neither know it nor can learn of him.
Benvolio. Have you importun'd him by any means?
Montague. Both by myself and many other friends; But he, his own
affections' counsellor, Is to himself,--I will not say how true,-- But
to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm Ere he can spread his sweet
leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but
learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as
know.
Benvolio. See, where he comes: so please you step aside; I'll know his
grievance or be much denied.
Montague. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true
shrift.--Come, madam, let's away,
[Exeunt Montague and Lady.]
[Enter Romeo.]
Benvolio. Good morrow, cousin.
Romeo. Is the day so young?
Benvolio. But new struck nine.
Romeo. Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence
so fast?
Benvolio. It was.--What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
Romeo. Not having that which, having, makes them short.
Benvolio. In love?
Romeo. Out,--
Benvolio. Of love?
Romeo. Out of her favour where I am in love.
Benvolio. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so
tyrannous and rough in proof!
Romeo. Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without
eyes, see pathways 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! O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness!
serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of
lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that
is not what it is!-- This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost
thou not laugh?
Benvolio. No, coz, I rather weep.
Romeo. Good heart, at what?
Benvolio. At thy good heart's oppression.
Romeo. Why, such is love's transgression.-- Griefs of mine own lie
heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With
more of thine: this love that thou hast shown 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 vex'd, a sea
nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most
discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.-- Farewell, my coz.
[Going.]
Benvolio. Soft! I will go along: An if you leave me so, you do me
wrong.
Romeo. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here: This is not Romeo, he's
some other where.
Benvolio. Tell me in sadness who is that you love?
Romeo. What, shall I groan and tell thee?
Benvolio. Groan! why, no; But sadly tell me who.
Romeo. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will,-- Ah, word ill urg'd
to one that is so ill!-- In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Benvolio. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd.
Romeo. A right good markman!--And she's fair I love.
Benvolio. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
Romeo. Well, 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
arm'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 assailing
eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she's rich in beauty;
only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
Benvolio. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
Romeo. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty,
starv'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 forsworn to love; and in that vow Do I live dead
that live to tell it now.
Benvolio. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Romeo. O, teach me how I should forget to think.
Benvolio. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties.
Romeo. 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more: These
happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, puts us in mind
they hide the fair; He that is strucken blind cannot forget The
precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show 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? Farewell: thou canst not teach me
to forget.
Benvolio. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. A Street.
[Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.]
Capulet. But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and
'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.
Paris. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis you liv'd
at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
Capulet. 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.
Paris. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Capulet. And too soon marr'd are those 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; 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, 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 apparell'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: Which, among
view of many, mine, being one, 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,
[gives a paper] and to them say, My house and welcome on their
pleasure stay.
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris].
Servant.Find them out whose names are written here! It is written that
the shoemaker 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 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.]
Benvolio. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, 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
some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will
die.
Romeo. Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that.
Benvolio. For what, I pray thee?
Romeo. For your broken shin.
Benvolio. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Romeo. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; Shut up in prison,
kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.
Servant. God gi' go-den.--I pray, sir, can you read?
Romeo. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
Servant. Perhaps you have learned it without book: but I pray, can you
read anything you see?
Romeo. Ay, If I know the letters and the language.
Servant. Ye say honestly: rest you merry!
Romeo. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads.] 'Signior Martino and his
wife and daughters; County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; the lady
widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio
and his brother 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. [Gives
back the paper]: whither should they come?
Servant. Up.
Romeo. Whither?
Servant. To supper; to our house.
Romeo. Whose house?
Servant. My master's.
Romeo. Indeed I should have ask'd you that before.
Servant. 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!
[Exit.]