Act 1, Scene 1, lines 97 to 233

  1. Montague:

    Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
    Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

  2. Benvolio:

    Here were the servants of your adversary, 
    And yours, close fighting ere I did approach.      [100]
    I drew to part them. In the instant came
    The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
    Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
    He swung about his head and cut the winds,
    Who nothing hurt withal, hissed him in scorn.     [105]
    While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
    Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
    Till the Prince came, who parted either part.

  3. Lady Montague:

    O, where is Romeo, saw you him today?
    Right glad I am he was not at this fray.         [110]

  4. Benvolio:

    Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun
    Peered forth the golden window of the east,

    A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad,
    Where, underneath the grove of sycamore 
    That westward rooteth from this city side,        [115]
    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,
    Which then most sought where most might not be found,    [120]
    Being one too many by my weary self,
    That most are busied when they're most alone,
    Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
    And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.

  5. Montague:

    Many a morning hath he there been seen,         [125]
    With tears augmenting the fresh morning's 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[no-glossary]'s[/no-glossary] bed, [130]        
    Away from [no-glossary]light[/no-glossary] steals home my heavy son,
    And private in his chamber pens himself,
    Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out
    And makes himself an artificial night.
    Black and portentous must this humour prove,           [135]
    Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

  6. Benvolio:

    My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

  7. Montague:

    I neither know it, nor can learn of him.

  8. Benvolio:

    Have you importuned him by any means?

  9. Montague:

    Both by myself and many other friends.             [140]
    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,              [145]
    Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air
    ,
    Or dedicate his beauty to the same.
    Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
    We would as willingly give cure as know.

  10. Enter ROMEO.

  11. Benvolio:

    See, where he comes. So please you step aside,       [150]
    I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

  12. Montague:

    I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
    To hear true shrift. Come madam, let's away.

  13. Exit MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE.

  14. Benvolio:

    Good morrow, cousin.

  15. Romeo:

                               Is the day so young?

  16. Benvolio:

    But new struck nine.

  17. Romeo:

                              Ay me, sad hours seem long.      [155]
    Was that my father that went hence so fast?

  18. Benvolio:

    It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

  19. Romeo:

    Not having that, which having, makes them short.

  20. Benvolio:

    In love?

  21. Romeo:

    Out -                                [160]

  22. Benvolio:

    Of love?

  23. Romeo:

    Out of her favour, where I am in love.

  24. Benvolio :

    Alas that love, so gentle in his view,
    Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

  25. Romeo:

    Alas, that Love, whose view is muffled still,             [165]
    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,             [170]
    O anything, of nothing first created.
    O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
    Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,
    Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,
    Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is.                                     [175]
    This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
    Dost thou not laugh?

  26. Benvolio:

                             No, coz, I rather weep.

  27. Romeo:

    Good heart, at what?

  28. Benvolio:

    At thy good heart's oppression.

  29. Romeo:

    Why such is love's transgression.                              [180]
    Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
    Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pressed
    With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown
    Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
    Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs,             [185]
    Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,

    Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with loving tears.
    What is it else? A madness most discreet,
    A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
    Farewell, my coz.

  30. Benvolio:

                            Soft! I will go along.                       [190]
    And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

  31. Romeo:

    Tut, I have lost myself, I am not here,
    This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

  32. Benvolio:

    Tell me in sadness, who is that you love?

  33. Romeo:

    What, shall I groan and tell thee?               [195]

  34. Benvolio:

    Groan? Why, no. But sadly tell me who.

  35. Romeo:

    Bid a sick man in sadness make his will.
    A word ill urged to one that is so ill.
    In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

  36. Benvolio:

    I aimed so near when I supposed you loved.      [200]

  37. Romeo:

    A right good mark-man, and she's fair I love.

  38. Benvolio:

    A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

  39. Romeo:

    Well, in that hit you miss, she'll not be hit
    With Cupid[no-glossary]'s[/no-glossary] arrow. She hath Dian[no-glossary]'s[/no-glossary] wit.
    And, in strong proof of chastity well-armed,           [205]
    From love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed.
    She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
    Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes,
    Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.
    O she is rich in beauty, only poor                        [210]
    That when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

  40. Benvolio:

    Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

  41. Romeo:

    She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
    For beauty starved with her severity
    Cuts beauty off from all posterity.                 [215]
    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.

  42. Benvolio:

    Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.      [220]

  43. Romeo:

    O teach me how I should forget to think.

  44. Benvolio:

    By giving liberty unto thine eyes,
    Examine other beauties.

  45. Romeo:

                                    'Tis the way
    To call hers, exquisite, in question more.
    These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows,       [225]
    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,               [230]
    Where I may read who passed that passing fair?
     
    Farewell, thou canst not teach me to forget.

  46. Benvolio:

    I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

  47. They Exit.