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Friar Lawrence:
Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here!
Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? Young men’s love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash’d thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste.
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans yet ring in mine ancient ears.
Lo here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash’d off yet.
If ere thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline,
And art thou chang’d? Pronounce this sentence then,
Women may fall, when there’s no strength in men.
Romeo:
Thou chidd’st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Friar Lawrence:
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Romeo:
And bad’st me bury love.
Friar Lawrence:
Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to have.
Romeo:
I pray thee chide me not, her I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow.
The other did not so.
Friar Lawrence:
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.
But come young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I’ll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households’ rancour to pure love.
Romeo:
O let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Friar Lawrence:
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
(Exeunt.)
Scene Four. A Street.
Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.
Mercutio:
Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight?
Benvolio:
Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man.
Mercutio:
Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so that he will sure run mad.
Benvolio:
Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father’s house.
Mercutio:
A challenge, on my life.
Benvolio:
Romeo will answer it.
Mercutio:
Any man that can write may answer a letter.
Benvolio:
Nay, he will answer the letter’s master, how he dares, being dared.