A Street.
 Enter CAPULET, COUNTY PARIS, and 1st SERVANT.

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 honourable 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 is 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-apparelled April on the heel
	Of limping winter treads, even such delight
	Among fresh female 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 reckoning none.
	Come, go with me.
											[Giving a paper to SERVANT.
						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.
											[Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS.

1st Servant	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.

                        Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO.

	In good time!

Benvolio	Tut man, one fire burns out another's burning,
		One pain is lessened 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 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.

1st Servant	God gi' good e'en. I pray, sir, can you read?

Romeo	Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

1st Servant	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.

1st Servant	Ye say honestly. Rest you merry!
											[Going.
Romeo	Stay, fellow, I can read.

	[Reads.]	"Signor Martino and his wife and daughters.
			County Anselme and his beauteous sisters.
			The lady widow of Utruvio.
			Signor Placentio and his lovely nieces.
			Mercutio and his brother Valentine.
			Mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters.
			My fair niece Rosaline, and Livia.
			Signor Valentio and his cousin Tybalt.
			Lucio and the lively Helena."

	A fair assembly. Whither should they come?

1st Servant	Up.

Romeo	Whither?

1st Servant	To supper. To our house.

Romeo	Whose house?

1st Servant	My master's.

Romeo	Indeed, I should have asked you that before.

1st Servant	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!
											[Exit.
Benvolio	At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
	Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so loves,
	With all the admird 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 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 splendour of mine own.
											[Exeunt.
