Page 3135 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Where underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth from this city side
So early walking did I see your son.
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood. [125]
I, measuring his affections by my own,
Which then most sought, where most might not be found,
Being one too many by my weary self,
Pursu’d my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn’d who gladly fled from me. [130]

MONT AGUE

Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears aumenting the fresh morning’s dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the farthest east begin to draw [135]
The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son
And private in his chamber pens himself,
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out
And makes himself an artificial night. [140]
Black and portentous must this humour prove
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

BENVOLIO

My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

MONT AGUE

I neither know it nor can learn of him.

BENVOLIO

Have you importun’d him by any means? [145]

MONT AGUE

Both by myself and many other friends.
But he, his own affections’ counsellor,
Is to himself - I will not say how true -
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery, [150]