I know not,sir. ROMEO O.she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use,for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done,I'll watch her place of stand, And,touching hers,make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now?forswear it,sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT This,by his voice,should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier,boy.What dares the slave Come hither,cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now,by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead,I hold it not a sin CAPULET Why,how now,kinsman!wherefore storm you so? TYBALT Uncle,this is a Montague,our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite. To scorn at our solemnity this night. CAPULET Young Romeo is it? TYBALT 'Tis he,that villain Romeo. CAPULET Content thee,gentle coz,let him alone: He bears him like a portly gentleman; And,to say truth.Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient,take no note of him: It is my will,the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. TYBALT It fits,when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him. CAPULETI know not, sir. ROMEO O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. CAPULET Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? TYBALT Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night. CAPULET Young Romeo is it? TYBALT 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. CAPULET Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take no note of him: It is my will, the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. TYBALT It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him. CAPULET