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Ben. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being
by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye ; But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems
best. Rom. I'll go along no such sight to be
shown, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.
(Eseunt.] (SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.]
Enter LADY CAPULET and NURSE. La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? Call
her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve
year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! What, lady
bird ! God forbid ! - Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
Enter JULIET. Jul. How now! Who calls ? Nurse.
Your mother. Jul.
Madam, I am here. What is your will ? La. Cap. This is the matter. – Nurse, give
leave a while, We must talk in secret. - Nurse, come back
Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but
four, She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide ?
La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. 16
Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be four
And since that time it is eleven years ;
the rood, She could have run and waddled all about ; For even the day before, she broke her brow; And then my husband - God be with his soul ! 'A was a merry man - took up the child. “Yea," quoth he, “dost thou fall upon thy
face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more
Jule?" quoth he;
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold
but laugh, To think it should leave crying and say, “Ay." And yet, I warrant, it had upon it brow A bump'as big as a young cockerel's stone; A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly. “Yea,' quoth my husband, “fall'st upon thy
face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to
age; Wilt thou not, Jule?” It stinted and said,
Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee
to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd. An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. La. Cap. Marry, that “marry" is the very
theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married ? 65
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
nurse, I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from
thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now;
younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers. By my cour I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Nurse. A man, young lady! Lady, such a As all the world – why, he's a man of wax. La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a
flower. Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very
flower. La. Cap. What say you? Can you love the
gentleman ? This night you shall behold him at our feast ; 80 Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married lineament
by men. La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of
Paris' love? Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will Í endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter SERVANT. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper sery'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
[Exit. La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County
stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
(Exeunt. (SCENE IV. A street.] Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five
or six other Maskers, Torch-bearers. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for
our excuse ? Or shall we on without apology?
Ben. The date is out of such prolixity. We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; (Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance ;) But let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure and be gone. 10 Rom. Give me a torch. I am not for this
ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we inust have you
dance. Rom. Not I, believe me. You have dancing
shoes With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
Mer. You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's 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 20 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 boisterous, and it pricks like
Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough
with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love
down. Give me a case to put my visage in,
(Puts 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 in, But every man betake him to his legs. Rom. A torch for me; let wantons light of
heart Tickle the senseless rushes 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. Mer. Tut, dun 's the mouse, the constable's
own word. If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the
mire Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stickest Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! Rom. Nay, that's not so. Mer.
I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, light lights 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
Why, may one ask?
And so did I.
That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream
things true. Mer. O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been 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 Over men's noses as they lie asleep; Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, Her traces of the smallest spider web, Her collars of the moonshine's watery 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 o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream
of love; On courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies
straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breath with sweetmeats tainted
Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ! 96
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. 105 Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind mis
gives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly beg 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. [They march about the stage.
[Ereunt.) [SCENE V. A hall in Capulet's house.) (Musicians waiting.) Enter SERVING-MEN, with
napkins. (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 unwash'd too, 't is 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 loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony and Potpan !
2. Serv. Ay, boy, ready;
(1.) Serv. You are look'd for and call'd for, ask'd for and sought for, in the great chamber.
3. Serv. We cannot be here and there too.
Cheerly, boys ; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.
[They retire.) 17 Enter (CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his
house, meeting) the Guests and Maskers. Cap. Welcome, gentlemen ! Ladies that have
their toes Unplagu'd with corns will walk a bout with you. Ah, 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
ye now? 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, Such as would please ; 't is gone, 't is gone, 't is
gone. You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play.
[Music plays, and they dance. A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. More light, you knaves; and turn the tables
up, 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. Cap. What, man! 't is not so much, 't is 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, 't is more. His son is
elder, sir; His son is thirty. Cap.
Will you tell me that ? His son was but a ward two years ago. Rom. (To a Serving-man.) What lady's that
which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?
Serv. I know not, sir.
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. Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Mon
tague. 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. Cap. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore
storm you so ?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
Cap. Young Romeo is it?
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him. Cap.
He shall be endur'd. What, goodman boy! I say, he shall; go to ! Am I the master here, or you? Go to ! You 'll not endure him! God shall mend my
soul ! You 'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! You 'll be the man!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 't is a shame. Cap.
Go to, go to; You are a saucy boy. Is 't indeed ? This trick may chance to scath you; I know
what. You must contrary me! Marry, 't is time. Well said, my hearts ! – You are a princox; go; Be quiet, or — - More light, more light! - for
shame! I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my
hearts ! Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler
meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greet
ing: I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet convert to bitt'rest gall.
(Exit. Rom. (To Juliet.] If I profane with my un
worthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
Tosmooth 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 hands that pilgrims' hands do
touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers
too? Jui. 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 de
spair. 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 thine, my sin is purg'd.
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. (Kissing her again. Jul.
You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a Ford 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; I 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, be gone; the sport is at the
best. Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be
gone ; 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. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late; I'll to my rest.
(All but Juliet and Nurse begin to Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gen
tleman ? 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 Petru
chio. 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!
Nurse. What's this? what's this?
A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danc'd withal.
(One calls within, “Juliet." Nurse.
Anon, anon! Come, let 's away; the strangers all are gone.
(Enter) CHORUS. (Chor.] Now old Desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young Affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for 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 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 less
To meet her new-beloved anywhere. But passion lends them power, time means, to
meet, Temp'ring 'extremities with extreme sweet.
[Exit.) [SCENE I. A lane by the wall of Capulet's
Enter ROMEO, alone.
here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
(He climbs the wall, and leaps down
He is wise ; And, on my life, hath stol'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. Romeo ! humours ! madman! passion ! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh! Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied ; Cry but Ay me!” pronounce but
love" and “dove” Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid! He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape 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; 't would anger
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit 26
Go, then; for 't is in vain To seek him here that means not to be found.
(Exeunt (Ben, and Mer.). (SCENE II. Capulet's orchard.
Romeo advances from the wall.] Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
[Juliet appears above at her win
dow. 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 envions ; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, 0, it is my love! 0, that she knew she were ! She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 't is 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 eyes in heaven 20 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! 0, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek! Jul.
Ay 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. (Aside. Shall I hear more, or shall I
speak at this? 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, 40 Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!