A Masque

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Benvolio put his arm brotherly around Romeo, "Tut man, one fire burns out another's burning. One pain is lessened by another's anguish. Turn giddy, and be helped by backward turning. One desperate grief cures with another's languish. Take thou some new infection to thy eye, and the rank poison of the old will die."

"Your plantain leaf is excellent for that." Romeo retorted. Benvolio furrowed his brow.

"For what, I pray thee?" He inquired, wincing as a dull pain shot through his leg. Romeo stiffled a laugh.

"For your broken shin!" He explained. At least he's in better humor... Benvolio thought.

"Why Romeo, art thou mad?" He smiled.

"Not mad, but bound more than a madman is, shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipped and tormented and-" Romeo stopped suddenly. "Good e'en, good fellow." Benvolio looked towards where Romeo had directed the greeting. He appeared to be a servant of some sort.

"God 'i' good e'en." The servant nodded, brow furrowed as he looked at the paper he held. "I pray, sir, can you read?"

"Ay, mine own fortune in my misery." Romeo answered woefully, though it didn't seem as genuine as before.

"Perhaps you have learned it without book..." He muttered. "But I pray, can you read anything you see?"

"Ay, if I know the letters and the language." Romeo joked. The servant sighed.

"Ye say honestly. Rest you merry." He turned to leave. The Montague boys stiffled a laugh.

"Stay, fellow." The servant turned back around. "I can read." Romeo grinned. The servant looked downright gleeful as he handed him the page. "'Seigneur Martino and his wife and daughters..." Romeo read aloud. "County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Seigneur Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine..." Benvolio felt his insides flutter at the mention of his friend. "...mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece..." Romeo smiled as he read the next guest, "Rosaline and Livia; Seigneur Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena.'" He finished. "A fair assembly. Whither should they come?" Romeo inquired.

"Up." The servant responded.

"Whither? To supper?"

"To our house."

"Whose house?" Romeo pressed.

"My master's." The servant replied dutifully. Romeo nodded thoughtfully.

"Indeed, I should have asked thee that before."

"Now I'll tell you without asking." The servant grinned. "My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine!" He bowed. "Rest you merry!" Benvolio turned to Romeo as the servant left.

"At this same ancient feast of Capulet's sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves with all the admired beauties of Verona." Benvolio stated. "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!" Romeo shook his head.

"When the devout religion of mine eye maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires, and these, who, often drowned, could never die, transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!" Romeo exclaimed. "One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun." But Benvolio was persistent as he lead Romeo down the road.

"Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, herself poised with herself in either eye. But in that crystal scales let there be weighed your lady's love against some other maid that I will show you shining at the feast, and she shall scant show well that now shows best." He assured him.

"I'll go along," Romeo agreed, "No such sight to be shown, but to rejoice in splendor of mine own."

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