Let two more summers wither in their pride. Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
And too soon marred are those so early made. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart; My will to her consent is but a part.
Now, my Lord what say you to my suit?
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Mine Uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters, My fair niece Rosaline and Livia, Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.A fair assembly. Whither should they come?
Act I Scene II
To my master's house. Mymaster is the great rich Capulet, and, if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.
One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun.Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun. I''l go alng, no such sight to be shown, but to rejoice in splendor of mine own
At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves,with all the admirèd beauties of Verona.Go thither, and with unattainted eye, compare her face with some that I shall show, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow.