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 honorable 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.
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 marred are those so early made.
Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she;
She’s the hopeful lady of my earth.
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart;
My will to her consent is but a part.
And, she agreed, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustomed 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-appareled April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be;
Which, on more view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reck’ning none.
Come go with me. [To Servingman, giving him a list.]
Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona, find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
Servingman 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!
Benvolio [to Romeo]
Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning;
One pain is lessened by another’s anguish.
Turn giddy, and be helped 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,
Whipped and tormented, and–good e’en, good
fellow.
Servingman God gi’ good e’en. I pray, sir, can you
read?
Romeo
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
Servingman 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.
Servingman You say honestly. Rest you merry.
Romeo Stay, fellow. I can read. [(He reads the letter.)]
Signior Martino and his wife and daughters,
County Anselme 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 and Livia,
Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt,
Lucio and the lively Helena.
A fair assembly. Whither should they come?
Servingman Up.
Romeo Whither? To supper?
Servingman To our house.
Romeo Whose house?
Servingman My master’s.
Romeo
Indeed I should have asked thee that before.
Servingman 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. [He exits.]
Benvolio
At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves,
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 fire;
And these who, often drowned, 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 poised with herself in either eye;
But in that crystal scales let there be weighed
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 seems best.
Romeo
I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.