Benvolio, is the day so young?
O my dear cousin, sad hours seem long
O me, what fray was here? Yet tell me not
I have heard it all
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love
Love is a smoke made with a fume of sighs
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes
Tut, I have lost myself, I am not here
This is not Romeo, he's some otherwhere
In sadness, I do love a woman, oh cousin, she's fair...
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair
To merit bliss by making me despair
She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
Do I live dead that live to tell it now
O teach me how I should forget to think!