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And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants. 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 them; in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, 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-day? Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
Peer'do forth the golden window of the east,
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
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 say, how trueBut 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 sun.
Enter Romeo, at a distance.
Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. — Come, madam, let's away.
(Exeunt Montague and Lady. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Rom.
Is the day so young? Ben. But new struck nine. Rom.
Ah 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
Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see 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 ! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
No, coz, I rather weep.
At thy good heart's oppression.
Soft, I will go along; An if you
leave me so, you do me wrong.
Ben. Tell me in sadness 7, who she is you love.
Groan ? why, no; But sadly tell me, who.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd.
fair I love.
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. Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still
live chaste? Ron. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
Ben. Be ruld by me, forget to think of her.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
'Tis the way
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. 9 i. e. What end does it answer?