Right glad I am he was not at this fray.BENVOLIO Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the city's side, So early walking did I see your son:Towards him I made, but he was ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood:I, measuring his affections by my own, That most are busied when they're most alone, Pursued my humour not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.MONTAGUE Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from the light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out And makes himself an artificial night:Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove.BENVOLIO My noble uncle, do you know the cause? MONTAGUE I neither know it nor can learn of him.BENVOLIO Have you importuned him by any means? MONTAGUE Both by myself and many other friends:But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself--I will not say how true--But 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 BENVOLIO See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.MONTAGUE I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift.Come, madam, let's away.
Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE BENVOLIO Good-morrow, cousin.ROMEO Is the day so young? BENVOLIO But new struck nine.ROMEO Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast? BENVOLIO It was.What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? ROMEO Not having that, which, having, makes them short.BENVOLIO In love? ROMEO Out-- BENVOLIO Of love? ROMEO Out of her favour, where I am in love.BENVOLIO Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! ROMEO 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.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
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? BENVOLIO No, coz, I rather weep.ROMEO Good heart, at what? BENVOLIO At thy good heart's oppression.ROMEO Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.BENVOLIO Soft! I will go along;An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.ROMEO Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;This is not Romeo, he's some other where.BENVOLIO Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.ROMEO What, shall I groan and tell thee? BENVOLIO Groan! why, no.
But sadly tell me who.ROMEO Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.BENVOLIO I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.ROMEO A right good mark-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; she hath Dian's wit;And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, 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.BENVOLIO Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? ROMEO She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, For beauty starved with her severity Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, 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.BENVOLIO Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.ROMEO O, teach me how I should forget to think.BENVOLIO By giving liberty unto thine eyes;Examine other beauties.ROMEO 'Tis the way To call hers exquisite, in question more:These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.BENVOLIO I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
