Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love: O heavy lightness! ferious vanity! Mif-fhapen chaos of well-feeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick health! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Ben. At thy good heart's oppreffion. Ben. Soft, I'll go along. And if [Going. you leave me fo, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have loft my felf, I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's fome other where. Ben. Tell me in fadness, who fhe is you love? Rom. What, fhall I groan and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; but fadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a fick man in fadnefs make his will? O word, ill urg'd to one that is fo ill! In fadness, coufin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd Rom. A right good marks-mán; love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. But, in that hit, you mifs; fhe'll not be hit you lov'd. and fhe's fair, I With Cupid's arrow; the hath Dian's wit : And And, in ftrong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow, fhe lives unharm'd. That when the dies, with der dies Beauty's Store. Ben. Then the hath fworn, that she will still live chafte? Rom. She hath, and in that Sparing makes huge wafte. For beauty, ftarv'd with her feverity, She is too fair, too wife; wifely too fair, Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers (exquifite) in queftion more; Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, But But now, my lord, what fay you to my Suit? She hath not seen the Change of fourteen years; Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: [Exeunt Capulet and Paris. Ser. Find them out, whose names are written here?It is written, that the Shoe maker. fhould meddle with his Yard, and the Tailor with his Laft, the Fisher with his Pencil, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am fent to find those Perfons, whose names are here writ; and can never find what names the writing perfon hath here writ. I muft to the Learned. In good time, Enter Enter Benvolio and Roméo. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is leffen'd by another's Anguish: Turn giddy, and be help'd by backward turning ; One defperate grief cure with another's Languish: Take thou fome new infection to the eye, And the rank poyfon of the old will die. Rom. Your plantan leaf is excellent for That. Rom. For your broken fhin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is: Shut up in prifon, kept without my food, Whipt and tormented: and low. Good-e'en, good fel- Ser. Perhaps, you have learn'd it without book: but, Can you read any thing you fee? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language. Rom. Stay, fellow, I can read. [He reads the letter. ST Sem Ignior Martino, and his wife and daughters: Count Anfelm and his beauteous fifters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely neices; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair neice Rofaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his coufin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair affembly; whither should they come ? (2) (2) A fair Assembly: Whither should they come? Serv. Up. 'Rom. Whither? to Supper? Serv. To our House.] Romeo had read over the Lift of invited Guefts; but he must be a Prophet, to know they were invited to Supper. This comes much more aptly from the Servant's Anfwer, than Romeo's Question; and muft undoubtedly be placed to him, Mr. Warburton. Ser. Up. Rom. Whither? Ser. To fupper, to our house. Rom. Whofe house? Ser. My mafter's. Rom. Indeed, I should have askt you that before. you merry.. Ben. At this fame antient Feast of Capulet's [Exit. Compare her face with fome that I fhall fhow, (3) let there be weigh'd [Exeunt Tour Lady's Love against Some other Maid.] But the Compatifon was not betwixt the Love that Romeo's Miftrefs paid him, and the Perfon of any other young Woman: but betwixt Romeo's Miftrefs herself, and fome other that should be match'd against her. The Poet therefore muft certainly have wrote; Tour Lady-love against fome other Maid. So the Comparison ftands right, and fenfibly. SCENE |