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Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.
Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both,
Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made.
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
Earth-treading ftars that make dark heaven's light. Such
Such comfort as ' do lufty young men feel,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be :
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.
as much in an affembly of beauties, as young men feel in the month of April, is furely to waste found upon a very poor fentiment. I read,
Such comfort as do lufty yeomen feel.
You shall feel from the fight and converfation of those ladies, fuch hopes of happiness and fuch pleasure, as the farmer receives from the fpring, when the plenty of the year begins, and the profpect of the harvest fills him with delight.
4 Which on more view of many, mine, being one, May fand in number, tho' in reckning none] The first of thefe lines I do not understand. The old folio gives no help; paffage is there, Which one more view. I can offer nothing bet ter than this:
Within your view of many,
Serv. Find them out, whofe names are written here?
-It is written, that the Shoemaker 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 thofe Perfons, whofe 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 Benvolio and Romeo.
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 poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plantan leaf is excellent for that.
Ben. For what, I pray thee?
Rom. For your broken fhin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man
Shut up in prifon, kept without my food,
Whipt and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fellow.
[To the Servant. Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, Sir, can you
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my mifery.
you read any thing you fee?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language. Serv. Ye fay honeftly. Reft you merry.
Rom. Stay, fellow, I can read.
[He reads the lift.]
Signior 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 fhould they come? Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither? to fupper?
Serv. To our house.
Serv. My mafter's.
Rom. Indeed, I fhould have afk'd you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without afking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the Houfe of Montagues, I pray, come and crufh a cup of wine. Reft you merry. [Exit.
Ben. At this fame ancient Feaft of Capulet's
5 A fair affembly; whither
Rom. Whither? to fupper? Serv. To our bufe.] Romeo had read over the lit cf invited guests; but how fhould he know they were invited to fupper? This comes much more aptly
from the Servant's answer, than Romeo's queftion; and must undoubtedly be placed to him.
When a man reads a lift of guefls, he knows that they are invited to fomething, and, without any extraordinary good fortune, may guefs, to a fupper.
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains fuch fafhoods, then turn tears to fires ! And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! th' all-feeing Sun Ne'er faw her match, fince firft the world begun. Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, none elle being by,
Herself pois'd with herself, in either eye;
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurfe.
URSE, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurfe. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve Years
I bade her come; what, lamb! what, lady-bird !