_Ro_: Why such is loues transgression, Griefes of mine owne lie heauie at my hart, Which thou wouldst propagate to haue them prest With more of thine, this griefe that thou hast showne, Doth ad more griefe to too much of mine owne: 115 Loue is a smoke raisde with the fume of sighes Being purgde, a fire sparkling in louers eyes: Being vext, a sea raging with a louers teares. What is it else? A madnes most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet. Farewell Cose. 120 _Ben_: Nay Ile goe along. And if you hinder me you doo me wrong. _Ro_: Tut I haue lost my selfe I am not here, This is not _Romeo_, hee's some other where. _Ben_: Tell me in sadnes whome she is you loue? 125 _Ro_: What shall I grone and tell thee? _Ben_: Why no, but sadly tell me who. _Ro_: Bid a sickman in sadnes make his will. Ah word ill vrgde to one that is so ill. In sadnes Cosen I doo loue a woman. 130 _Ben_: I aimde so right, when as you said you lou'd. _Ro_: A right good mark-man, and shee's faire I loue. _Ben_: A right faire marke faire Cose is soonest hit. _Ro_: But in that hit you misse, shee'le not be hit With _Cupids_ arrow, she hath _Dianaes_ wit, 135 And in strong proofe of chastitie well arm'd: Gainst _Cupids_ childish bow she liues vnharm'd, Shee'le not abide the siedge of louing tearmes, Nor ope her lap to Saint seducing gold, Ah she is rich in beautie, only poore, 140 That when she dies with beautie dies her store. _Exeu._ [Sidenote: [SC. II.]] _Enter Countie_ Paris, _old_ Capulet. Of honorable reckoning are they both, And pittie tis they liue at ods so long: But leauing that, what say you to my sute? _Capu_: What should I say more than I said before, My daughter is a stranger in the world, 5 Shee hath not yet attainde to fourteene yeares: Let two more sommers wither in their pride, Before she can be thought fit for a Bride. _Paris_: Younger than she are happie mothers made.