ROMEO.
Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
FRIAR.
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
ROMEO.
And bad'st me bury love.
FRIAR.
Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to have.
ROMEO.
I pray thee chide not: she whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.
FRIAR.
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
ROMEO.
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
FRIAR.
Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast.
[Exeunt.]
