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By the old Capulet and Mountague,
Haue thrice disturbd the quiet of our streets.
If euer you disturbe our streets againe,
Your lives shall pay the ransome of your fault:
For this time euery man depart in peace.
Come Capulet come you along with me,
And Mountague, come you this afternoone,
To know our farther pleasure in this case,
To old free towne our common iudgement place,
Once more on paine of death each man depart. Exeunt.

M. wife. Who set this auncient quarrel first abroach?
Speake nephew, were you by when it began?

Benuo. Here were the seruants of your aduersaries, And yours close fighting ere I did approch.

Wife. Ah where is Romeo, saw you him to day?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madame, an houre before the worshipt funne
Peept through the golden window of the east,
A troubled thought drew me from companie :
Where vnderneath the groue ficamoure
That westward rooteth from the cities side,
So early walking might I see your sonne.
I drew towards him, but he was ware of me,
And drew into the thicket of the wood :
I noting his affections by mine owne,
That most are busied when th’are most alone,
Pursued my honor, not pursuing his.

Moun. Black and portentious must this honor proue,
Vnlesse good counfaile doo the cause remooue,
Ben. Why tell me Vncle do you know the cause ?

Enter Romeo.
Moun. I neyther know it nor can learne of him.

Ben. See where he is, but stand you both afide,
De know his grieuance, or be much denied.

Mount.

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Mount. I would thou wert so happie by thy stay
To heare true Thrift. Come madame lets away.

Benuo. Good morrow cosen.
Romeo. Is the day so young?
Ben. But new stroke nine.

Romeo. Ay me, sad hopes feeme long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?

Ben. It was, what sorrow lengthens Romeos hours ?
Romeo. Not having that, which hauing makes them short,
Ren. In loue.
Romeo. Out.
Ben. Of loue.
Ro. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.

Ben. Alas that loue fo gentle in her view,
Should be fo tyrranous and rough in proofe.

Ro. Alas that loue whose view is muffled still,
Should without lawes giue path-waies to our will :
Where shall we dine? Gods me, what fray was here?
Yet tell me not for I haue heard it all,
Heres much to doe with hate, but more with loue.
Why then, O brawling loue, o louing hate,
O apie thing, of nothing first create !
O heauie lightnes serious vanitie!
Mishapen Caos of best seeming thinges,
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, ficke health,
Still waking Neepe, that is not what it is :
This loue feele I, which feele no loue in this.
Doeft thou not laugh?

Ren. No cose I rather weepe.
Rom. Good hart at what?
Ben. At thy good hearts oppression.

Ro. Why such is loues transgression,
Griefes of mine owne lie heauie at my hart,
Which thou wouldst propagate to haue them prest

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With more of thine, this griefe that thou hast showne,
Doth ad more griefe to too much of mine owne.
Loue is a smoke raisde with the fume of fighes
Being purgde, a fire sparkling in louers eyes :
Being vext, a sea raging with a louers tears.
What is it elle? A madnes most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet. Farewell cose,

Ben. Nay Ile goe along.
And if you hinder me you doo me wrong.

Ro. Tut I haue lost my felfe I am not here,
This is not Romeo, hee's some other where.
Ben. Tell me in sadnes whome she is

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loue !
Ro. What shall I grone and tell thee?
Ben. Why no, but fadly tell me who.

Ro. Bid a sickman in sadness make his will.
Ah word ill vrgde to one that is so ill.
In sadnes cosen I doo loue a woman.

Ben. I aimde fo right, when as you said you lou'd.
Ro. A right good mark-man, and Mee's faire I loue.
Ben. A right faire marke faire cose is soonest hit.

Ro. But in that hit you misse, shee'le not be hit
With Cupids arrow, shee hath Dianaes wit,
And in strong proofe of chastitie well arm'd :
Gainst Cupids childish bow the liues vnharm'd,
Shee'le not abide the fjedge of louing tearmes,
Nor ope her lap to faint seducing gold,
Ah she is rich in beautie, only poore,
That when she dies with beautie dies her store. Exeu.

Enter Countie Paris, old Capulet.

Of honorable reckoning are they both,
And pittie tis they liue at ods so long:
But leaving that, what say you to my fute ?

Сари. ,

Capu. What should I say more than I said before,
My daughter is a ftranger in the world,
Shee hath not yet attainde to fourteene yeares :
Let two more sommers wither in their pride,
Before she can be thought fit for a bride.

Paris. Younger than she are happie mothers made.

Cap. But too soone marde are these so early maried :
But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,
My word to her consent is but a part.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I haue inuited many a guest,
Such as I loue : yet you among the store,
One more most welcome makes the number more.
At my poore house you fall behold this night,
Earth trcadding stars, that make darke heauen light :
Such comfort as doo lufty youngmen feele,
When well apparaild Aprill on the heele
Of lumping winter treads, euen such delights
Amongst fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house, heare all, all see,
And like her moft, whose merite inolt Thal be.
Such amongst view of many myne beeing one,
May stand in number though in reckoning none.

Enter Seruingmen.

Where are you firra, goe trudge about
Through faire Verona streets, and seeke them out :
Whose names are written here and to them say,
My house and welcome at their pleasure stay. Exeunt.

Ser. Seeke them out whose names are written here, and yet I knowe not who are written here : I must to the learned to learne of them, that's as much to say, the taylor must meddle with his laste, the shoomaker with his needle, the

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painter with his nets, and the fisher with his pensill, I must to the learned.

Enter Benuolio and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man one fire burnes out anothers burning,
One paine is lessned with anothers anguish:
Turne backward, and be holp with backward turning,
One desperate griefe cures with anothers languish.
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the ranke poyson of the old will die.

Romeo. Your planton leafe is excellent for that.
Ben. For what?
Romeo. For your broken sin.
Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad ?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is.
Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode,
Whipt and tormented, and godden good fellow.

Ser. Godgigoden, I pray fir can you read,
Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie.

Ser. Perhaps you haue learned it without booke : but I pray can you read any thing you see?

Rom. I if I know the letters and the language.
Seru. Yee say honestly, rest you merrie.
Rom. Stay fellow I can read.

He reads the lenger.

Seigneur Martino and his wife and daughters, countie Anfelme and his beauteous fisters, the ladie widlow of Vtruuio, Jeigneur Placentio, and his louelie nceces, Mercutio and his brother Valentine, mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters, my faire neece Rosaline and Liuia, seigneur Valentio and his cofen Tibalt, Lucio and the liuclie Hellena.

A faire assembly, whether should they come ?

Ser,

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