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Will they not hear ?what ho! you men, you

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins, -
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Cankred with peace, to part your cankred hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away :
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt Prince, Capulet, &. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?

Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part thein; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword preparid;
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,


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He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
'Till the prince came, who parted either part.
La. Mon. 0, where is Romeo !--saw you him to-

Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worhip'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad ; Where—underneath the grove of sycamore, That westward rooteth from the city' sideSo early walking did I see your son: Towards him I made : but he was 'ware of me, And stole into the covert of the wood: 1, measuring his affections by my own,-- 130 That most are busied when they are most alone, Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs : But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son, 140 And private in his chamber pens himself; Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out, And makes himself an artificial night:


Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn it of him.
Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ?

Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends : But he, his own affections' counsellor,

150 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 same. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter Romeo, at a Distance. Ben. See, where he comes : So please you step

aside ; I'll know his grievance, or be much deny'd. 160

Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift.-Come madam, let's away.

Ben. Good morrow, cousin,
Rom. Is the day so young.
Ben. But new struck nine.

Rom. Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was :-)

-What sadness lengthens Romeo's
hours :


Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them

short. Ben. In love ?

170 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 still, Should, without eyes, see path-ways to his will! Where shall we dine 10 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 :

180 Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing of nothing first created !

heavy lightness ! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick

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 ?

190 Ben. At thy good heart's opppression,

Rom. 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

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 nourishi’d with lovers' tears :
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewel, my coz.

[Going Ben. Soft, I will go along ; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here ;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

Ben. Tell me in sadness, 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 sick man in sadness inake his will :-
O word ill urg'd to one that is so ill.
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd yoni

lov'd. Rom. A right good marks-man!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,




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