But Montague is bound as well as I, 
In penalty alike; and ’tis not hard, I think, 
For men so old as we to keep the peace.
PARIS.
Of honourable reckoning are you both, 
And pity ’tis you liv’d at odds so long.
But now my lord, what say you to my suit?
CAPULET.
But saying o’er what I have said before. 
My child is yet a stranger in the world, 
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; 
Let two more summers wither in their pride 
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
PARIS.
Younger than she are happy mothers made.
CAPULET.
And too soon marr’d are those so early made.
The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, 
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, 
My will to her consent is but a part; 
And she agree, within her scope of choice 
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom’d feast, 
Whereto I have invited many a guest, 
Such as I love, and you among the store, 
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house look to behold this night 
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: 
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel 
When well apparell’d April on the heel 
Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
Among fresh female buds shall you this night 
Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, 
And like her most whose merit most shall be: 
Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, 
May stand in number, though in reckoning none. 
Come, go with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about 
Through fair Verona; find those persons out 
Whose names are written there, [_gives a paper_] and to them say, 

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