To joyless dread, and mak’st the loving heart
With hateful thoughts to languish and to pine,
And feed itself with self-consuming smart;
Of all the passions in the mind thou vilest art!
Romeo (without).—I suppose there’s no one home. (Knocks). Hello! anybody in?
Helena (opens door).—Mr. Romeo! how delightful this surprise.
Romeo (enters).—To me this is a pleasure sweet, sweet beyond comparison. (Aside.) Her looks do argue her replete with modesty.
Helena.—It gives me wonder, great as my content, to see you here before me.
Mrs. Pet.—
Sir, you are very welcome to our house: