Where, underneath the grove of sycamore, 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. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know. Enter ROMEO, at a distance. Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. 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. Ben. But new struck nine. Is the day so young? 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 them short. Ben. In love? Rom. Out Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! 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. 6 to his will!] i. e. that the blind god should yet be able to direct his arrows at those whom he wishes to hit, that he should wound whomever he wills, or desires to wound. Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression." Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; shown, Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Ben. Soft, I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. [Going. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. But sadly tell me, who. Groan? why, no; Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I ain'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good marks-man! - And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Why, such is love's transgression.) Such is the consequence of unskilful and mistaken kindness. 8 Tell me in sadness,] That is, gravely, or seriously. 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,o 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? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair,1 To merit bliss by making me despair: She hath forsworn 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. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more:2 9 And, in strong proof, &c.] As this play was written in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, I cannot help regarding these speeches of Romeo as an oblique compliment to her majesty, who was not liable to be displeased at hearing her chastity praised after she was suspected to have lost it, or her beauty commended in the 67th year of her age, though she never possessed any when she was young. Her declaration that she would continue unmarried, increases the probability of the present supposition. STEEVENS. - wisely too fair, &c.] There is in her too much sanctimonious wisdom united with beauty, which induces her to continue chaste with the hopes of attaining heavenly bliss. • To call hers, exquisite, in question more:] More into talk; to make her unparalleled beauty more the subject of thought and conversation. These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. SCENE II. A Street. Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, • These happy masks, &c.] i. e. the masks worn by female spectators of the play. 4 What doth her beauty serve,] i. e. what end does it answer? * She is the hopeful lady of my earth:] This is a Gallicism: Fille de terre is the French phrase for an heiress. |