Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene,
With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw,
Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes,
But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne,
Should in the farthest East begin to draw
The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed,
Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne,
And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe,
Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out,
And makes himselfe an artificiall night:
Blacke and portendous must this humour proue,
Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue
Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him
Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends,
But he his owne affections counseller,
Is to himselfe (I will not say how true)
But to himselfe so secret and so close,
So farre from sounding and discouery,
As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,
Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre,
Or dedicate his beauty to the same.
Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow,
We would as willingly giue cure, as know.
Enter Romeo.
Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside,
Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide
Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.
Exeunt.
Ben. Good morrow Cousin
Rom. Is the day so young?
Ben. But new strooke nine
Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long:
Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres?
Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short
Ben. In loue
Romeo. Out