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Lady Capulet

Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse

Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

Lady Capulet

She's not fourteen.

Nurse

I'll lay fourteen of my teeth — and yet, to my teen be it
spoken, I have but four — she is not fourteen. How long is it

Romeo

When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire;
And these who often drowned 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.

Benvolio

Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself poised with herself in either eye.
But in that crystal scales let there be weighed
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 seems best.

Benvolio

At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
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.                

Servant

But, I pray, can you read any thing you see?

Romeo

Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

Servant

Ye say honestly. Rest you merry!

Romeo

Stay, fellow; I can read.

Romeo

Dost thou not laugh?

Benvolio

                                     No, coz, I rather weep.

Romeo

Good heart, at what?

Benvolio

                                     At thy good heart's oppression.

Romeo

Why, such is love's transgression.

Romeo

                                              O me! What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.                           
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love, O loving hate,
O anything of nothing first created,
O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,
Still-waking sleep that is not what it is.
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

Romeo

                                              O me! What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.                           
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love, O loving hate,
O anything of nothing first created,
O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,
Still-waking sleep that is not what it is.
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

Benvolio

                                     No, coz, I rather weep.

Montague

Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?                  
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

Benvolio

Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach;
I drew to part them. In the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hissed him in scorn.
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,   
Till the prince came, who parted either part.

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