| |
| Peter |
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 |
Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, |
| |
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; |
| |
Turn giddy, and be holp 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 plaintain-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 mad-man is; |
| |
Shut up in prison, kept without my food, |
| |
Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow. |
| Peter |
God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read? |
| Romeo |
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. |
| Peter |
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I |
| |
pray, can you read any thing you see? |
| Romeo |
Ay, if I know the letters and the language. |
| Peter |
Ye say honestly: rest you merry! |
| Romeo |
Stay, fellow; I can read. |
| |
'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; |
| |
County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady |
| |
widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely |
| |
nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine |
| |
uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece |
| |
Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin |
| |
Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair |
| |
assembly: whither should they come? |
| Peter |
To supper; to our house. |
| Romeo |
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. |
| Peter |
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. |
| Benvolio |
At this same ancient feast of Capulet's |
| |
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, |
| |
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 fires; |
| |
And these, who often drown'd 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 weigh'd |
| |
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 shows best. |
| Romeo |
I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, |
| |
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. |
|
