The moſt Lamentable Tragedie
For this time all the reſt depart away:
You Capulet ſhall goe along with me,
And Mountague come you this afternoons,
To know our farther pleaſure in this caſe:
To old Free-towne, our common judgement place:
Once more on paine or death, all men depart.
Mount. Who ſet this auncient quarrell new abroach?
Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began?
Ben. Here were the ſeruants of your aduerſarie
And yours cloſe fighting ere I did approach,
I drew to part them, in the inſtant came
The fiery Tibalt, with his ſword prepard,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares,
He ſwong about his head and cut the windes,
Who nothing hurt withall, hiſt him in ſcorne:
While we were enterchanging thruſt and blowes,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the Prince came, who parted either part.
Wife. O where is Romeo, ſaw you him to day?
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an houre before the worſhipt Sunne.
Peerde forth the Golden window of the Eaſt,
A troubled mind draue mee to walke abroad,
Where vnderneath the groue of Syramour,
That Weſtward rooſeth from this City ſide:
So early walking did I ſee your ſonne,
Towards him I made, but hee was ware of mee,
And ſtole into the couert of the wood,
I meaſuring his affections by my owne,
Which then moſt ſought, where moſt might not be found:
Being one to many by my weary ſelfe,
Purſued my humour, not purſuing his,
And gladly ſhunned, who gladly fled from me.
Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene ſeene,
With teares augmenting the freſh mornings deaw,
