Romeo and JulietPart 2
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Part 2
Rom. Why such is loues transgression. Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: Farewell my Coze
Ben. Soft I will goe along. And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong
Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not Romeo, hee's some other where
Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue? Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee? Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who
Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will: A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill: In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman
Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd
Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit
Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit: And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes. Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, That when she dies, with beautie dies her store
Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast? For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, To merit blisse by making me dispaire: She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now
Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her
Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke
Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties, Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget, Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Exeunt.
Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.
Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace
Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both, And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long: But now my Lord, what say you to my sute? Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before, My Child is yet a stranger in the world, Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, Let two more Summers wither in their pride, Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride
Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made
Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made: Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth: But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent, is but a part, And shee agree, within her scope of choise, Lyes my consent, and faire according voice: This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest, Such as I loue, and you among the store, One more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poore house, looke to behold this night, Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light, Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, When well apparrel'd Aprill on the heele Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night Inherit at my house: heare all, all see: And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckning none. Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, Through faire Verona, find those persons out, Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay. Enter.
Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time. Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.
Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, One paine is lesned by anothers anguish: Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new infection to the eye, And the rank poyson of the old wil die
Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that
Ben. For what I pray thee? Rom. For your broken shin
Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow, Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read? Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie
Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you read any thing you see? Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language
Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry
Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.
He reades the Letter.
Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena. A faire assembly, whither should they come? Ser. Vp
Rom. Whither? to supper? Ser. To our house
Rom. Whose house? Ser. My Maisters
Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before
Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. Enter.
Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of Verona, Go thither and with vnattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow
Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die, Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun
Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid That I will show you, shining at this Feast, And she shew scant shell, well, that now shewes best
Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne. Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.
Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me
Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, Where's this Girle? what Iuliet? Enter Iuliet
Iuliet. How now, who calls? Nur. Your Mother
Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will? Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue remembred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest my daughter's of a prety age
Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre
Wife. Shee's not fourteene
Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, And yet to my teene be it spoken, I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene. How long is it now to Lammas tide? Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes
Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well Susan is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not Iule quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said I
Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace
Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It stinted: and said I
Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I
Nur. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish
Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet, How stands your disposition to be Married? Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of
Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat
Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in Verona, Ladies of esteeme, Are made already Mothers. By my count I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue
Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why hee's a man of waxe
Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower
Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower
Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young Paris face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall liniament, And see how one another lends content: And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the Margent of his eyes. This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer. The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse
Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men
Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue? Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue. But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye. Enter a Seruing man.
Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight. Enter.
Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies
Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.
Exeunt.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers, Torch-bearers.
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