Romeo and Juliet

Benvolio

But let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure and be gone.

Romeo

Give me a torch; I am not for this ambling.
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Mercutio

Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Romeo

Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes
With nimble soles. I have a soul of lead
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
[Enter Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio, along with several other partygoers on their way to Lord Capulet’s house for a masquerade, a formal costume party. Several are carrying lanterns suspended on poles to light their way.]

Romeo

What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without apology?

Benvolio

The date is out of such prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
But let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure and be gone.
[Enter Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio, along with several other partygoers on their way to Lord Capulet’s house for a masquerade, a formal costume party. Several are carrying lanterns suspended on poles to light their way.]

Romeo

What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without apology?

Benvolio

The date is out of such prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
But let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure and be gone.

Lady Capulet

What say you? Can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast.
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen.
Examine every married lineament,
And see how one another lends content.
And, what obscured in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover.

Lady Capulet

What say you? Can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast.
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen.
Examine every married lineament,
And see how one another lends content.
And, what obscured in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover.

Lady Capulet

The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse

A man, young lady! Lady, such a man
As all the world — why, he's a man of wax.

Lady Capulet

Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse

Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.                     

Lady Capulet

What say you? Can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast.

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