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Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horfes in the night;
And cakes the elf-locks in foul fluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them firft to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is the-

Ram. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk'ft of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain phantafy; Which is as thin of fubftance as the air; And more inconftant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bofom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our felves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind mifgives,
Some confequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a defpifed life, clos'd in my breast,
By fome vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the fteerage of my course,
Direct my fail !-On, lufty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

SCENE V.

A Hall in Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Servants.

[Exeunt.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher 2! he scrape a trencher !

2 Serv. When good manners fhall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard 3, look to the plate:good thou, fave me a piece of march-pane 4; and, as thou lov'ft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grind. tone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!

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Enter Capulet, &c. with the Gaefts and the Mafkers. 1 Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies, that have their feet

Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you :-Ah ha, my miftreffes! which of you all

Will now deny to dance? the that makes dainty, she, I'll fwear, hath corns; Am I come near you now? You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day, That I have worn a vifor; and could tell

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,

Such as would pleate ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: You are welcome, gentlemen.-Come, musicians, play.

A hall! a hall 5! give room, and foot it, girls.
[Mufick plays, and they dance.

More hight, ye knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.➡➡
Ah, firrah, this unlook'd-for fport comes well.
Nay, fit, nay, fit, good coufin 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.

[much :

1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not fo 'Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio, Come pentecoft as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his fon is elder, fir; His fon is thirty.

1 Cap. Will you tell me that?

His fon was but a ward two years ago.

Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

Serv. I know not, fir.

Rom. O, the doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: Beauty too rich for ufe, for earth too dear! So fhews a fnowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows fhows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. Did my heart love 'till now ? forfwear it, fight ! For I ne'er faw true beauty 'till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, fhould be a Montague :Fetch me my rapier, boy :-What, dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antick face, To fleer and scorn at our folemnity? Now, by the ftock and honour of my kin, To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin.

1 Cap. Why, how now, kiniman? wherefore
ftorm you fo?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in fpight,
To fcorn at our folemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is 't?

This was a common fuperftition, and feems to have had its rife from the horrid disease called the Plica Polonica. Trenchers were ftill ufed by perfons of good fashion in our author's time. They continued common much longer in many public focieties, particularly in colleges and inns of court; and are ftili retained at Lincoln's-Inn. 3 Meaning perhaps what

we call at prefent the fide-board. 4 March-pane was a confection made of pistachio-nus, lmonds, and fugar, &c. and in high efteen in Shakspeare's time. It was a conftant article in the defferts of our ancestors. 5 This exclamation occurs frequently in the old comedies, and gmnes,

make room.

Tyb.

Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,
He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to fay 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 difparagement:
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will; the which if thou refpect,
Shew a fair prefence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-befeeming femblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest ;
I'll not endure him.

1 Cap. He fhall be endur'd;

Nurfe. Madam, your mother craves a word with Ram. What is her mother? [you

Nurfe. Marry, bachelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,

And a good lady, and a wife, and virtuous:

I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
I tell you-he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chink.

Rom. Is the a Capulet?

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best
Rom. Ay, fo I fear; the more is my unrest
1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards 3.—

What, goodman boy !—I fay, he shall :-Go to ;- Is it e'en fo? Why, then I thank you all;

Am I the mafter here, or you? go to.

I thank you, honeft gentlemen; good night :-
foul-More torches here !-Come on, then let's to bed.
Ah, firrah, by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my reft.

You'll not endure him !---God shall mend my
You'll make a mutiny among my guests !
You will fet cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a fhame.

1 Cap. Go to, go to,

You are a faucy boy :-Is't fo, indeed ?--
This trick may chance to fcathe you ;-I know
what.-

You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time-
Well faid, my hearts :-You are a princox2; go:—
Be quiet, or More light, more light, for fhame!—
I'll make you quiet; What!-Cheerly, my hearts.
Tyb. Patience perforce, with wilful choler
meeting,

Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrufion fhall,
Now feeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit.
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand
[To Juliet.

This holy fhrine, the gentle fine is this-
My lips, two blufhing pilgrims, ready itand

To fmooth that rough touch with a tender kifs. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion fhews in this; For faints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not faints lips, and holy palmers too? ful. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Rom.O then, dear faints, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to defpair. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' fake. [1 take. Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect Thus from my lips, by yours, my fin is purg'd. [Killing ber. Jul. Then have my lips the fin that they have took. Rom. Sin from my lips? O treipafs fweetly urg'd! Give me my fin again.

Jul. You kifs by the book.

i. e. to do you an injury. realy, at hand.

[Exeunt.
Jul. Come hither, nurfe: What is yon gentleman?
Nurfe. The fon and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he that now is going out of door?
Nurfe. That, as I think, is young Petruchio.
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would
Nurfe. I know not.
[not dance?

Jul. Go, afk his name :-if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurfe. His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
The only fon of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early feen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurfe. What's this? what's this? Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet. Narfe. Anon, anon:

Come, let's away; the ftrangers all are gone.

Enter CHORUS. Now old defire doth on his death-bed lie,

[Exeunt.

And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair, for which love groan'd fore, and would 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 fuppos'd he must complain, [hooks: And the steal love's fweet bait from fearful Being held a foe, he may not have accefs

To breathe fuch vows as lovers ute to fwear; And the as much in love, her means much lefs To meet her new-beloved any where : But paffion lends them power, time means to meet, Tempiring extremities with extream fweet.

[Exit Cherat.

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SCENE L

The STREET.

Enter Romeo alone.

ACT II.

But, foft! what light through wonder window
It is the eaft, and Juliet is the fun!-- [breaks?
[Juliet appars above, at a window.
Arife, fair fun, and kill the envious moon,

AN I go forward, when my heart is Who is already fick and pale with grief,

Rom. CAN

here ?

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

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.-
Why, Romeo! humours! madman! paffion! lover!
Appear thou in the likenefs of, a figh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
Cry but-Ay me! couple but-love and dove;
Speak to my goflip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name to her purblind fon and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar maid 1.—
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.-
I conjure thee by Rofaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her fcarlet lip,

That thou her maid art far more fair than fhe:

Be not her maid, fince the is envious;

Her veital livery is but fick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; caft it off-
It is my lady: O, it is my love:

O, that the knew fhe were !-
She fpeaks, yet the fays nothing; What of that?
Her eye difcourfes, I will anfwer it.-

I am too bold, 'tis not to me it speaks:
Two of the faireft ftars in all the heaven,
Having fome bufinefs, do intreat 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 fhame those stars,
As day-light doth a lamp: her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would fing, and think it were not night.
See, how the leans her cheek upon her hand!
0, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Ful. Ay me!

Rom. She speaks

By her fine foot, ftraight leg, and quivering thigh, O, fpeak again, bright angel! for thou art
And the demefnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likenefs thou appear to us.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
To raife a spirit in his miftrefs' circle

Of fome strange nature, letting it there ftand
'Till he had laid it, and co jur'd it down;
That were fome fpight: my invocation
Is fair and honeft, and, in his miftrefs' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

[trees,
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among thofe
To be conforted with the humourous night:
Blind is his love, and bt befits the dark.

2

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.]
Now will he fit under a medlar tree,
And with his miftrefs 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 fleep:
Come, thall we go?

Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain

To feek him here, that means not to be found.

E

SCEN
Capulet's Garden.

11.

Enter Romeo.

[Exeunt.

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is the winged metfenger of heaven
Unto the white up-turned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bettrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And fails upon the bofom of the air.

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

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

Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I speak at this?

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ful. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;
Thou art thyfelf, though not a Montague 3.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part:
What's in a name? That which we call a rofe
By any other name would finell as fweet;
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 myfelf.

Rom. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;

Rom. He jefts at fcars, that never felt a wound. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

2 Shak

Alluding to an old ballad preferved in Dr. Perey's Reliques of ancient English Poetry. fpeare means humid, the moift dewy night. 3 The fenfe is, Thou art thyfeif (i. e. a being o' diftinguished excellence), though thou art not what thou appearclt to others, akin to thy family 10

malice.

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ful. What man art thou, that, thus befcreen'd in night,

So ftumbleft on my counfel?

Rom. By a name

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

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the found; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair faint, if either thee diflike.
Jul. How cam'it thou hither, tell me? and
wherefore?

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
And the place death, confidering who thou art,
If any of my kinfmen find thee here.

Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow, That tips with filver all these fruit-tree tops,— Jul. O, fwear not by the moon, the inconstant

moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Left that thy love prove likewife variable.
Rom. What shall I fwear by ?

Jul. Do not fwear at all;

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

Rom. If my heart's dear love

Jul. Well, do not fwear; although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night :

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too fudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can fay-It lightens. Sweet, good night!

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch This bud of love, by fummer's ripening breath,

thefe walls;

For ftony limits cannot hold love out :

And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinfmen are no ftop to me.

Jul. If they do fee thee, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their fwords; look thou but fweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

here.

Jul. I would not for the world, they faw thee
[fight;
Rem. I have night's cloak to hide me from their
And, but thou love me, let them find me here;
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogu'd ', wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whofe direction found'st thou out this
place?

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to enquire;
He lent me counfel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

As that vaft fhore wafh'd with the fartheft fea,
I would adventure for fuch merchandize.

Jul. Thou know'ft, the mafk of night is on
my face;

Elfe would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou haft heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain fain deny
What I have spoke; But farewel compliment!
Doft thou love me? I know, thou wilt fay-Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou fwear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They fay, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou doft love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'it I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverte, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, elfe, 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 thofe that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confefs,
But that thou over-heardit, ere I was ware,
My true love's paffion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so difcovered.

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Rom. O bleffed bleffed night! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering fweet to be fubftantial.
Re-enter Juliet, above.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night,
indeed.

If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpofe marriage, fend me word to-morrow,
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite;
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll day,
And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
[Within: Madam.

I come, anon :-)
-But if thou mean'it not well,
I do befeech thee,-[Within: Madam.] By and by,

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1 i. c. delayed.

Re-enter

Re-enter Fuliet again, above.

Jul. Hift! Romeo, hift-0, for a faulconer's

voice,

I

To lure this taffel-gentle back again !
Bondage is hoarfe, and may not speak aloud;
Elfe would I tear the cave where echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarfe than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Rom. It is my foul, that calls upon my name :
How filver-fweet found lovers' tongues by night,
Like foftest musick to attending ears!
Jul. Romeo!

om. My fweet ?

ful. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I fend to thee?

Rom. By 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 ftand here 'till thou remember it.
Jul. I fhall forget, to have thee ftill ftand there,
Rememb'ring how I love thy company.
Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee ftill forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. Tis almoft morning, I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prifoner in his twifted gyves,
And with a filk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, fo would I ;

Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is fuch fweet
forrow,

That I fhall fay-good night, 'till it be morrow.

[Exit.

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy
breaft!

'Would I were fieep and peace, fo fweet to reft!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

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[Exit.

A MONASTERY.
Enter Friar Lawrence, with a basket.
Fri. The grey-ey'd morn fmiles on the frown-
ing night,

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked 2 darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels:
Now ere the fun advance his burning eye,
The day to chear, and night's dank dew to dry,
I muft up-fill this ofier cage of ours
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb:
And from her womb children of divers kind
We fucking on her natural bofom find;
Many for many virtues excellent,

None but for fome, and yet all different.

10, mickle is the powerful grace 3, that lies
In plants, herbs, ftones, and their true qualities:
For nought fo vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth fome special good doth give;
Nor aught fo good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itfelf turns vice, being mifapplied;
And vice fometime's by action dignify'd.
Within the infant rind of this fmall flower
Poifon hath refidence, and med'cine power:
For this, being fmelt, with that part chears each part;
Being tafted, flays all fenfes with the heart.
Two fuch oppofed foes encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
And, where the worfer is predominant,
Full foon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter Romeo.

Rom. Good morrow, father!

Fri. Benedicite!

What early tongue fo fweet faluteth me?—
Young fon, it argues a diftemper'd head,
So foon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, fleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuft brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden fleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earlinefs doth me affure,
Thou art up-rouz'd by some diftemp'rature ;
Or if not fo, then here I hit it right→→→→→
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night:

Rom. That laft is true, the fweeter rett was mine.
Fri. God pardon fin ! wast thou with Rofaline?
Rom. With Rofaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good fon: But where haft thou

been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feafting with mine enemy;
Where, on a fudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy phyfick lies :
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo,
My interceffion likewife fteads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good fon, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confeffion finds but riddling fhrift.
Rom. Then plainly know; my heart's dear love
is fet

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, fo hers is fet on mine;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we país; but this I pray,
That thou confent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy Saint Francis ! what a change is here!
Is Rofaline, whom thou didst love fo dear,
So foon forfaken? Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Holy Saint Francis! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy fallow cheeks for Rofaline!

The taffel or tercel (for fo it fhould be fpelt) is the male of the gofshawk; fo called, because it is a tierce or third lefs than the female. dappled, freak'd, or variegated.

This is equally true of all birds of prey. 3 i. e. efficacious virtue.

Rrr

2 Flecked is spotted,

How

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