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Here are the beetle-brows fhall blufh for me.
Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no fooner in, But ev'ry man betake him to his legs.
Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the fenfeless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandfire-phrafe; 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 conftable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire; Or, fave your reverence, love, wherein thou stick'st Up to thine ears: come, we burn day-light, ho. Rom. Nay, that's not fo.
Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay
We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day.
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;
Mer. Why, may one ask?
Rom, I dreamt a dream to-night.
Rom. Well; what was yours?
Mer. That dreamers often lye.
Rom, in bed afleep; while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then I fee, Queen Mab had been with you. (4)
(4) 0, then I fee, Queen Mab bath been with you:
She is the Fairies' Midwife.] Thus begins that admirable Speech upon the Effects of the Imagination in Dreams. But, Queen Mab the Fairies' Midwife? What is the then Queen of? Why, the Fairies.' What! and their Midwife too? Sure, this is a wonderful Condefcenfion in her Royal Highnefs. But this is not the greatest of the Abfurdities. Let us fee upon what Occafion fhe is introduced, and under what Quality. Why, as a Being that has great Power over human Imaginations. But then, according to the Laws of common Sense, if he has any Title given her, muft not that Title have reference to the Employment fhe is put upon? First, then, fhe is called Queen : which is very pertinent; for that defigns her Power: Then he is called the Fairies' Midwife; but what has that to do with the Point in hand? If we would think that Shakespeare wrote Senfe, we muft
She is the fancy's mid-wife, and the comes
Her waggon-fpokes made of long spinners' legs :
Then dreams he of another benefice.
fay, we wrote the Fancy's Midwife: and this is a Title the
Which are the Children of an idle Brain,
Thefe Dreams are begot upon Fantay, and Mab is the Midwife to bring them forth. And Fancy's Midwife is a Phrase altogether in the Manner of our Author.
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Mer. True, I talk of dreams;
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we fhall come too late.
Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind mifgives,.
With this night's revels; and expire the term
[They march about the Stage, and Exeunt.
SCENE changes, to a Hall in Capulet's House.
Enter Servants, with Napkins.
1 Serv. W
Here's Potpan, that he helps not to take away; he shift a trencher! he fcrape a
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-ftools, remove the courtcup-board, look to the plate: good thou, fave me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou loveft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grindstone, and Nell. Antony and Potpan
2 Serv. Ay, boy, ready.
1 Serv. You are look'd for, call'd for, afk'd for, and fought 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.
Enter all the Guests and Ladies, with the maskers.
1 Cap. Welcome, gentlemen. Ladies, that have your
Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you.
Will now deny to dance? fhe that makes dainty,
Such as would please: 'tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone! :
How long is't now fince laft yourself and I
2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.
Cap. What man! 'tis not fo much, 'tis not so much; "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 son is elder, Sir: 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, Sir.
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!
The measure done, I'll watch her place of ftand,
I never faw true beauty 'till this night.
Tyb. This by his voice fhould be a Montague.
To fleer and fcorn at our folemnity?
To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin.
Cap. Why, how now, kinfman, 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.
Tyb. That villain Romeo.
Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
He bears him like a portly gentleman :
And, to fay' truth, Verana brags of him,