The moſt Lamentable Tragedie
Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.
Capu. And Mountague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke,
For men ſo old as we 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 than ſhe, are happie Mothers made.
Capu. And too ſoone mard are thoſe ſo early made:
The earth hath ſwallowed all my hopes but ſhe,
She is the hopefull Lady of my earth:
But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her conſent, is but a part,
And ſhe agree, within her ſcope of choiſe,
Lyes my conſent, and faire according voice:
This night I hold, an old accuſtomed Feaſt,
Whereto I haue inuited many a gueſt,
Such as 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 doe luſtie yong men feele,
When well appareld APrill on the heele
Of limping winter treads, euen ſuch delight
Among freſh Fennell buds ſhall you this night
Inherit at her houſe, heare 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 reckning none.
Come goe with me, goe ſirrah trudge about,
Through faire Verona, find thoſe perſons out,
