Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good marksman!--And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. 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 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. [chaste? Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live Rom. 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, Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. "Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more: These 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 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. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else, die in debt. [Exeunt. SCENE 11. 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, For men so old as we to keep the peace. She hath not seen the change of fourteen years: Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Such as I love; and you, among the store, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Whose names are written there, [Gives a Paper] and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasures stay. [Exeunt Capulet and Paris. Serv. 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. Ben. 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; Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. Rom. For your broken shiu. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fellow. [Reads. Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mer cutio, 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 Note] Whither should Serv Up. [they come? Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. 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. [Exit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun SCENE 111. A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse. to me. Lady C. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth [old,Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead,-at twelve year I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady-bird!— God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet! What is your will? Enter JULIET. Your mother, Madam, I am here. Lady C. This is the matter: Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Lady C. She's not fourteen. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,She is not fourteen:-How long is it now To Lammas-tide? Lady C. A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls!Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me: But, as I said, On Laminas-eve at night shall she be fourteen: That shall she, marry; I remember it well. "Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,Of all the days of the year, upon that day: For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, My lord and you were then at Mantua:Nay, I do bear a brain :-but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years: For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, For even the day before, she broke her brow: |