Old Capulet.
My good Lord Paris, welcome to Verona,
The Blood that richly warms your youthful Veins,
Being so near ally'd to Royal Escalus,
(Our honour'd Prince) not more endears you to us,
Than do the Virtues of your noble Heart,
Which add a brighter Lustre to your Titles;
And challenge the Respect of all good Men.

Paris.
Lord Capulet, whatever I possess
Of Wealth, or Titles, is the Stroke of Chance;
Thank Fortune for 'em; but, on those I build not:
Be it my Endeavour then to engraft from you,
Upon my Mind your full-grown Worth and Knowledge,
E'er I presume to ask, fair Juliet's Love.

O. Cap.
Your Merit, Sir, is riper than her Years;
Tho' Girls are forward ripe in Italy,
At Fourteen, Sir, to make my Child a Mother,
Wou'd Grandsire me too soon; besides my Lady

Wishes not yet to be a Grandmother:—
We must be cautious how we cross the Women,
Or fear to lead uncomfortable Lives.
Montague, the ancient Enemy of our House,
Thinking our Power greater, Sir, than his,
Wish'd his Son Romeo, and our Daughter, married;
Which so increas'd the Anger of our Wives,
(Whose Quarrels we are ever apt to join in)
The Rage of civil War, broke out more fiercely;
And may prove fatal to his House or mine.

Par.
Young Romeo is a Man whom most admire,
And therefore to be fear'd: Say, may I hope
He has no Impression made on Juliet's Heart.

O. Cap.
None on my Life—She knows not what is Love;
Unless to love her Father, Mother, Kinsmen:
There her Affection's strong. So fear not him. [A Noise is heard without of Fighting; and crying, Down with the Montague's, down with the Capulets, &c.
What Noise is that?—Bring me my Rapier there.

Paris.
Sir, be advis'd; think not to stir Abroad,
Till I have found the Prince; whose Presence, only,
Can quell these madding Riots. [Exit Paris.

O. Cap.
Bring me my Sword. Enter Lady Capulet.

L. Cap.
Bring you a Crutch!—I pray you stay within;
And let the Roisters quarrel by themselves:
'Tis but our Servants.

O. Cap.
I'll have my Sword: Hear I not Montague?
I know his Voice; therefore, I say, away;
He flourishes his Blade in Scorn of me. [Exit O. Cap.

L. Cap.
Lock the Gates there; let not your Master forth. [L. Cap. follows.

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