Mer. I mean, sir, in delay Mer. Why, may one ask? Rom. Well, what was yours? Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes Her waggon-spokes made of long-spinners' legs; On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives, Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels; and expire the term Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, By some vile forfeit of untimely death: But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail!-On, lusty gentlemen. Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-A hall in CAPULET's house. Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher ! 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. 1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate :-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan! 2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready. 1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 2 Se v. We cannot be here and there, too.Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind. Enter CAPULET, &c. with the Guests, and the Maskers. Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you: Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all Will now deny to dance?, she, that makes dainty, she, I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you now? You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day, That I have worn a visor; and could tell More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. 2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. You are a saucy boy :-Is't so, indeed ?— 1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not This trick may chance to scathe you ;-I know so much: 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio. Come pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty. 1 Cap. Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. what. You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time- Makes my flesh tremble in their different greet- Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, the hand Of yonder knight? Serv. I know not, sir. Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Mon- Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What! dares the Come hither, cover'd with an antick face, 1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest ; 1 Cap. He shall be endur'd: Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Erit. kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands, that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips, that they must use in prayer. Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake. Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's ef fect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her. Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! Give me my sin again. Jul. You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word Rom. What is her mother? Her mother is the lady of the house, We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.— Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance? Nurse. I know not. Jul. Go, ask his name:-if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy. Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!) Too early seen unknown, and known too late; Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved any where: But passion lends them power, time means to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. ACT II. I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, SCENE I.—An open place, adjoining CAPULET'S By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, garden. Enter ROMEO. Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out. [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it. Enter BENVOLIO, und MERCUTIO. And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.- By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-CAPULET's garden. Enter ROMEO. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. [Juliet appears above at a window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun !— She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that? As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! Jul. Ah me! Rom. She speaks : O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Aside. Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet ; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title:-Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. Rom. I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel ? I know not how to tell thee who I am: Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out: Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart, as that within my breast! Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have tonight? Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again. Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. [Exit. [Nurse calls within. I hear some noise within: Dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse !-Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. Re-enter JULIET, above. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, Rom. My sweet! Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee? Rom. At the hour of nine. Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. Rom. Let me stand here, till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company. Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Rom. I would, I were thy bird. Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. |