William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet tells the tale of two "star-crossed lovers", divided by family but united by love.
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Romeo and Juliet

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Act I. Scene II.

Scene II.—The Same. A Street.

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant.

Cap. 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.
Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
Cap. But saying o'er what I have said be-
fore:
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.
Par. Younger than she are happy mothers
made.
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early
made.
Earth hath swallow'd 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;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd 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-apparel'd 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. [To Servant, giving him a
paper.] 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.
Serv. 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.

Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO.
Ben. 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 lan-
guish:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for
that.
Ben. For what, I pray thee?
Rom. For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-
man is;
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented, and—Good den, good
fellow.
Serv. God gi' good den. I pray, sir, can you
read?
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without
book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you
see?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the
language.
Serv. Ye say honestly; rest you merry!
[Offering to go.
Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read.
Signior Martino and his wife and daugh-
ters; County Anseime and his beauteous sis-
ters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; 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?
Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither?
Serv. To supper; to our house.
Rom. Whose house?
Serv. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that
before.
Serv. 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.
Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's,
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st,
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.
Rom. 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.
Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being
by,
Herself pois'd 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.
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be
shown,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.
[Exeunt.
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