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.
DAVE PARIS: Of honourable reckoning
are you both; And pity 'tis you lived 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; Let
two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe
to be a bride.
DAVE PARIS: Younger than she are
happy mothers made.
CAPULET: And too soon marr'd are
those so early made. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
At my poor house look to behold this night Fresh female buds that
make dark heaven light: Hear all, all see, and like her most who's
married most shall be. Come, go with me.
BENVOLIO: Tell me in sadness,
who is that you love?
ROMEO: In sadness, cousin, I do
love a woman.
BENVOLIO: I aim'd so near, when
I supposed you loved.
ROMEO: A right good marks-man,
and she's fair I love.
BENVOLIO: A right fair mark, fair
coz, is soonest hit.
ROMEO: Well, in that hit you miss:
she'll not be hit with Cupid's arrow; Nor bide the encounter of
assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
BENVOLIO: Then she hath sworn
that she will still live chaste?
ROMEO: She hath, and in that sparing
makes huge waste.
BENVOLIO: Be ruled by me, forget
to think of her.
ROMEO: Teach me how I should forget
to think.
BENVOLIO: By giving liberty unto
thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
ROMEO: Not mad, but bound more
than a mad-man is; Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd
and tormented. Good day, good fellow.
NEWSLADY: Now I'll tell you without
asking, The great rich Capulet holds an old accoustomed feast--
A fair assembly. Signior Placentio and his lovely daughters. The
lady Widow of Vitravio; and her lovley nieces Rosaline-
BENVOLIO: At this same ancient
feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
NEWSLADY: If you be not of the
house of Montague come and crush a cup of wine.
BENVOLIO: Go thither; and, with
unattainted eye, Compare her face to some that I shall show, And
I will make thee think thy swan; a crow.
ROMEO: I'll go along, no such
sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
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