Cap. My fword, I fay!-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Enter MONTAGUE and Lady MONTAGUE.

Mon. Thou villain, Capulet,-Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not ftir one foot to seek a foe.

Enter Prince, with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious fubjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-ftained steel,— Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts,→ That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains iffuing from your veins, On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the fentence 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 Caft by their grave befeeming ornaments, To wield old partizans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives fhall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the reft depart away : You, Capulet, fhall go along with me; And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgement-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants; CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants.

Mon

Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach ?-
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?
Ben. Here were the fervants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd;
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He fwung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hifs'd him in fcorn:
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. O, where is Romeo!-saw you him to-day? Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd fun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where,-underneath the grove of fycamore,
That weftward rooteth from the city's fide,-
So early walking did I fee your fon :

Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me,
And ftole into the covert of the wood:

I, measuring his affections by my own,-
That most are bufied when they are most alone,—
Purfu'd my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly fhunn'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 fighs:
But all fo foon as the all-cheering fun

Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The fhady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;

Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight 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 of him.
Ben. Have you impórtun'd him by any means?
Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself-I will not fay, how true-
But to himself fo fecret and so close,
So far from founding 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 fun.

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

Enter ROMEO, at a distance.

Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step afide; I'll know his grievance, or be much deny'd.

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

[Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady,

Ben. Good morrow, cousin.

Rom,

Ben. But new ftruck nine.

Rom.

Is the day fo young?

Ah me! fad hours feem long.

Was that my father that went hence fo fast?

Ben. It was:- -What fadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

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

Ben. In love?

Rom. Out

Ben. Of love?

Rom.

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, fo gentle in his view, Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof.!

Rom. Alas, that love, whofe view is muffled ftill, Should, without eyes, fee 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 any thing, of nothing first create!

O heavy lightness! ferious vanity!

Mif-shapen chaos of well-feeming forms!

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick health!
Still waking fleep, that is not what it is!-

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Doft thou not laugh?

Ben.

No, coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what?

Ben.

At thy good heart's oppreffion.

Rom. Why, fuch is love's tranfgreffion.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breaft;

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 finoke rais'd with the fume of fighs;

Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a fea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it elfe? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preferving fweet.
Farewell, my coz.

Ben.

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

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

B 4

Lgoing.

Ben.

Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love.
Rem. What, fhall I groan, and tell thee?

Ben.

But fadly tell me, who.

Groan? why, no;

Rom. Bid a fick man in sadness make his will:

Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!

In fadness, coufin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good marks-man !—And she's fair I love, Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is fooneft hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, the hath Dian's wit;

And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,

From love's weak childish bow the lives unharm'd.
She will not stay the fiege of loving terms,
Nor bide the encounter of affailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to faint-feducing gold:
O, she is rich in beauty; only poor,

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

Ben. Then he hath fworn, that she will still live chafte? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste ; For beauty, ftarv'd with her severity,

Cuts beauty off from all pofterity.

She is too fair, too wife; wifely too fair,
To merit blifs by making me despair:

She hath forfworn to love; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.

'Tis the way

Rom.
To call hers, exquifite, in queftion more:
These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows,

6

Being