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Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's | O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on wings,

And soar with them above a common bound.
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden
love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like
thorn.

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough
with love;
[down.
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love
Give me a case to put my visage in:
[Putting on a Mask.
A visor for a visor!-what care I,
What curious eye doth quote* deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner
But every man betake him to his legs. [in,
Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of
heart,

Tickle the senseless rushest with their heels;
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,—
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,-
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.t
Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's
own word:

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou
stick'st

Up to the ears.-Come, we burn day-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning; for our judgement sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one ask?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did I.

[mask;

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer. That dreamers often lie.
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
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners'
legs;

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams:
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash of film:
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream
of love:
[straight:
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies

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fees:

O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted

are.

Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's
tail,

Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asloep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and
wakes;
[two,
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horses in the night;
And bakes the elf-locks+ in foul sluggish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune
bodes.

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to
bear,

Making them women of good carriage.
This, this is she-

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk'st of nothing.

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.

[Exeun.. SCENE V.-A Hall in CAPULET's House. Musicians waiting. Enter SERVANTS.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps no 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,t look to the plate:-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, a thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susa 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 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all." [They retire behind.

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Enter CAPULET, &c. with the Guests and the
Maskers.

their toes

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have
[you :-
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
Will now deny to dance? she that makes
dainty, she,
[now?
I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you
You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the
day,

That I have worn a visor; and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Fuch as would please ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone,
'tis gone:

You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musi-
cians, play.

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.
I'll not endure him.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
[to;-
1 Cap. He shall be endur'd:
What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall-Go
Am I the master here, or you? go to. [soul-
You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

what.

You are saucy boy:-Is't so, indeed ?-
1 Cap. Go to, go to,
This trick may chance to scath you;-I know
said, my hearts:-You are a princox ;t
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time-
quiet, or-More light, more light, for
[shame!
make you quiet; What!-Cheerly, my

A ball! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. Well
[Music plays, and they dance.
More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, Be
And quench the fire, the room is grown too

hot.-
Ah, Sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much; 'tis
not 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, His son is thirty.

[Sir:

1 Cap. Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich

the hand

Of yonder knight?

Serv. I know not, Sir.

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn

bright!

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop'st 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,
[hand.
And, touching hers, make happy my rude
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Mont-
ague:-
[slave
Fetch me my rapier, boy :-What! dares the
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.

1 Cup. Why, how now kinsman? wherefore

storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe ;]
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?

Tyb. "Tis he, that villain Romeo.

1 Cap Content thee, gentle coz, let him
He bears him like a portly gentleman; [alone,
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 this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement:
I.. Make room.
An Ethiopian, a back,

+ The dance.

I'll

go:

hearts.

Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler

meeting, [ing. Makes my flesh tremble in their different greet. I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

[Exit.

Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand
[TO JULIET.

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,-
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender
kiss.

Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have bands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palm

ers 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 prayers' sake.

Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect 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
Give me my sin again.
[urg'd!

Jul. You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word
with you.

Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse. Marry, bachelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
1 tell you, he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chinks.

Rom. Is she a Capulet?

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be
gone;

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We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all;
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:-
More torches here! Come on, then let's to
bed.
[late;
Ah, Sirrah, [To 2 CAp.] by my fay, it waxes
I'll to my rest.

[Exeunt all but JULIET and NURSE. Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman ?

Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?

Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.

Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance?

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die,

With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:

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 To meet her new-beloved any where: [less But passion lends them power, time means to meet,

Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet.

ACT II.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-An open Place, adjoining CAPULET'S Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [He climbs the Wall, and leaps down within it.

Enter BENVOLIO, and MERCUTIO.
Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
Mer. He is wise;

And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed.
Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this or
chard wall:
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.

Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,

A collation of fruit, wine, &c.
+ I. e. Himself,

+ Faith,

Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
Cry but-Ah me! couple but-love and dove;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar.
maid.

He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;
The apet is dead, and I must conjure him.-
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering
thigh,

And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle [him Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it, and conjur❜d it down; That were some spite: my invocation Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees,

To be consorted with the humoroust night:
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the Now will he sit under a medlar tree, [mark. And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.

Romeo, good night;-I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go?

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!-
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid,§ since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.-
It is my lady; O, it is my love:
O, that she knew she were!-
[that?
She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.-
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head
The brightness of her cheek would shame those
stars,

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not

night.

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Alluding to the old ballad of the Ky and the Beggar. This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an expression of tenderness. + Humul moist, A votary to the moon, to Diana.

Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She speaks:

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou
Romeo?

Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

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, dofft 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;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night,

So stumblest on my counsel ?

Rom. By a name

I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred
words
[sound;
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dis-
like.

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'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out: And what love can do, that dares love attempt, Therefore thy kinsmen are no lett to me.

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, [sweet, Then twenty of their swords; look thou but And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here.

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;

And, but thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out
this place?

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

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As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on
my face;

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 What I have spoke; But farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say—

Ay;

And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour
light:

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be
strange.t
[fess,

I should have been more strange, I must conBut that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware, My true love's passion: therefore pardon me; And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the incon

stant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?

Jul. Do not swear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in I have no joy of this contract to-night: [thee, It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good

night!

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we

meet.

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