Here's much to do with hate, but more with love: 180
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing! of nothing first create.
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 184
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?
Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. 188
Rom. Good heart, at what?
Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.
Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, 192
Which thou wilt propagate to have it press'd
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; 197
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with loving tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 200
Farewell, my coz. [Going.]
Ben. Soft, I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where. 204
Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
Rom. What! shall I groan and tell thee?
Ben. Groan! why, no;
But sadly tell me who.
180 more with love; cf. n.
183 vanity: triviality, futility
181–186 Cf. n.
187 in this: i.e., in this brawl
188 coz: cousin
193 propagate: increase
to have it: by having it
197 purg'd: cleared from smoke
198 vex'd: agitated
205 sadness: seriousness
207 sadly: seriously
