ACT I. | |
Scene II. A Street. | |
| [Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.] |
Capulet. | |
| But Montague is bound as well as I, |
| In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, |
| For men so old as we to keep the peace. |
Paris. | |
| Of honourable reckoning are you both; |
| And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long. |
| But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? |
Capulet. | |
| But saying o'er what I have said before: |
| My child is yet a stranger in the world, |
| She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; |
| Let two more summers wither in their pride |
| Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. |
Paris. | |
| Younger than she are happy mothers made. |
Capulet. | |
| And too soon marr'd are those so early made. |
| The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,-- |
| She is the hopeful lady of my earth: |
| But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, |
| My will to her consent is but a part; |
| An she agree, within her scope of choice |
| Lies my consent and fair according voice. |
| This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, |
| Whereto I have invited many a guest, |
| Such as I love; and you among the store, |
| One more, most welcome, makes my number more. |
| At my poor house look to behold this night |
| Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: |
| Such comfort as do lusty young men feel |
| When well apparell'd April on the heel |
| Of limping winter treads, even such delight |
| Among fresh female buds shall you this night |
| Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, |
| And like her most whose merit most shall be: |
| Which, among view of many, mine, being one, |
| May stand in number, though in reckoning none. |
| Come, go with me.--Go, sirrah, trudge about |
| Through fair Verona; find those persons out |
| Whose names are written there, [gives a paper] and to them say, |
| My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. |
| [Exeunt Capulet and Paris]. |
Servant. | |
| Find them out whose names are written here! |
| It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with |
| his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with |
| his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am |
| sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, |
| and can never find what names the writing person |
| hath here writ. I must to the learned:--in good time! |
| [Enter Benvolio and Romeo.] |
Benvolio. | |
| Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, |
| One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; |
| Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; |
| One desperate grief cures with another's languish: |
| Take thou some new infection to thy eye, |
| And the rank poison of the old will die. |
Romeo. | |
| Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that. |
Benvolio. | |
| For what, I pray thee? |
Romeo. | |
| For your broken shin. |
Benvolio. | |
| Why, Romeo, art thou mad? |
Romeo. | |
| Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; |
| Shut up in prison, kept without my food, |
| Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow. |
Servant. | |
| God gi' go-den.--I pray, sir, can you read? |
Romeo. | |
| Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. |
Servant. | |
| Perhaps you have learned it without book: |
| but I pray, can you read anything you see? |
Romeo. | |
| Ay, If I know the letters and the language. |
Servant. | |
| Ye say honestly: rest you merry! |
Romeo. | |
| Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads.] |
| 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; |
| County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; the |
| lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and |
| his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother |
| Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and |
| daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior |
| Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the |
| lively Helena.' |
| A fair assembly. [Gives back the paper]: whither should they |
| come? |
Servant. | |
| Up. |
Romeo. | |
| Whither? |
Servant. | |
| To supper; to our house. |
Romeo. | |
| Whose house? |
Servant. | |
| My master's. |
Romeo. | |
| Indeed I should have ask'd you that before. |
Servant. | |
| Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great |
| rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, |
| I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! |
| [Exit.] |
Benvolio. | |
| At this same ancient feast of Capulet's |
| Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; |
| With all the admired beauties of Verona. |
| Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, |
| Compare her face with some that I shall show, |
| And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. |
Romeo. | |
| When the devout religion of mine eye |
| Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; |
| And these,--who, often drown'd, could never die,-- |
| Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! |
| One fairer than my love? the all-seeing sun |
| Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. |
Benvolio. | |
| Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, |
| Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: |
| But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd |
| Your lady's love against some other maid |
| That I will show you shining at this feast, |
| And she shall scant show well that now shows best. |
Romeo. | |
| I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, |
| But to rejoice in splendour of my own. |
| [Exeunt.] |