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Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof!
Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled fil,
Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.
Ron. Why, such is love's tranfgreflion.
[Going; Ben, Sott, i'll go along. And it
leave me. io, you do me wrong:
Ben, Tell me in saaneis, who she is you love.
Rom. Bid a fick aan ju sadness make his, will ?
Ben, daim'd lo ncar, wheo I suppos’d you lov'd.
Rom. But in that hit you miss ;-The'll not be hit
Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ;,.
Rom. 'Tis the way
[-Exeunt: SCENE TIF. Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servantó
Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
Par. Of honourable reck’ning are you both,
Cap. But saying o'er what I have faid before :
Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth bath 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; It the agree, within her scope of choice Lies my confent, and fair according voice. This night I hold an old-accustom'd fealt, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, Onc more, most welcome, makes my nuiñber more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark even light, . Such comfort as do lusty young men feels 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 fee, And like her most whose merit most shall be ; Which one more view of many; mine, being one, May fand in number, though in reck’ning none. Come, go with me, Go, firrah; trädgë about Through fair Verona ; find those persons out, Whose names are written there ; and to theni say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris, Ser. 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 fither 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 mult to the learned.- In goud time,
Enter Benvolio and Romeo.
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish :
One desperate grief cure with another's languish :
Rom. Your plantan-leaf is excellent for that.
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is :
[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. Ye fay honestly, reft you merry. Rom. Stay, fellow, I can read.
He reads the letter. Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters ; Count Anselm, and his beauteous fifters; the Lady, avidow of Vio truvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces ; Mercutia and his brother Valentine ; mine uncle Gapulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rofaline ; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt ; Lucio, and the lively Helena, A fair assembly;, whither should they come?
Ser. Up. -
Şer. 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. Reit you merry,
Ben. At this fame ancient feast of Capulet's
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 heretics, be burnt for lyars!
Ben. Tut! tut ! you saw her fair, none elle being by; Herself pois'd with herself, in either
Rom, I'll go along, no such fight to be fewn;
SCENE IV.. Changes to Capulet's house.
Enter lady Capulet and Nurse. La, Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth
Nurse. Now (by my maidenhead, at twelve years old) 1 bade her come ; what, lamb, --what, lady, bird, God forbid !-- Where's this girl? what, Juliet?
La. Cap. This is the matter. Nurle, give leave a while, we must talk in secret : nurte, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our countel : thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of iny teeth, (and yet to my teen be it fpoken, I have but four), she's not fourteen,