|
 | Oh, where is Romeo? Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. | |
|
| Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun Peered forth the golden window of the east, a troubled mind drove me to walk abroad, Where, underneath the grove of sycamoreThat westward rooteth from this city side, So early walking did I see your son. Towards him I made, but he was 'ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood. I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his,And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me. | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Many a morning hath he there been seen,With tears augmenting the fresh mornings dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs. But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the farthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Auroras bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, And makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humor prove Unless good counsel may the cause remove. | |
|
| My noble uncle, do you know the cause? | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| neither know it nor can learn of him. | |
|
| Have you importuned him by any means? | |
|
|
|
|
|
