Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?[77]
Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you importuned him by any means?[78]
Mon. Both by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,[79] 145
Is to himself—I will not say how true—
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,[80]
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, 150
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.[81]
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure as know.[82]
Enter Romeo.
Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. 155
Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.[83]
[Exeunt Montague and Lady.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.