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Enter a Servant.
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays.
[days. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.- A Street.
Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-Bearers, and others.
Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without apology?
Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:
Rom. Give me a torch,-I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must 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 empierced with his shaft,
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; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.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 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
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
Rom. Well, what was your's?
2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'D And so did I. foul thing.
1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove court-cupboard, look to the plate :-good t save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou leme, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone. Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!
2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.
Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
Peace, peace, Mercutio, pean Thou talk'st of nothing.
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 wodes 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 selves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgive 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 geutlemen. Ben. Strike, drum.
SCENE V-A Hall in Capulet's House. Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps take away? he shift a trencher! he scrap trencher!
1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked | Am I the master here, or you? go to. 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.) Enter CAPULET, &c. with the Guests, and the Maskers.
Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you:-
1 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
Will you tell me that?
By'r lady, thirty years.
1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much :
Serv. I know not, sir.
Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague :-
1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
"Tis he, that villain Romeo.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my soul-
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shews in this; For saints have hands, that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd.
You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Rom. What is her mother?
Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman ?
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Jul. Go, ask his name :-if he be married,
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
He shall be endur'd:
What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall;-Go to;- That I must love a loathed enemy.
Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir;
That fair, which love groan'd for, and would die, It is my lady; O, it is my love:
O, that she knew she were!
With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
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.
SCENE I.-An open Place, adjoining Capulet's Garden.
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 orchard Call, good Mercutio. [wall: 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-Ah me! couple but-love and dove; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname 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 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 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 him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle 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 To be consorted with the humourous night: Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will be sit under a medlar tree, 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.
But, soft! what light through yonder window
SCENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter ROMEO. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. (Juliet appears above, at a window.)
She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that?
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thea Bo 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 (Asuk)
Jul. "Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;—
Rom. I take thee at thy word: Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Jul. What man art thon, that, thus bescreen 3 in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
By a name
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound,
Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch
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
Rom. 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 prorogued, wanting of thy love. Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? [quire; Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inHe lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise. [face;
Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke; bat farewell compliment! Dost love me? I know, thou wilt say-Ay; And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou may'st prove falsé; 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. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'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 inconstant
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
If my heart's dear love
Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: 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 bad of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower, when next we meet. 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 to-night? Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. [it: Jul. I gave thee mine before thou did'st request 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. (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.
At what o'clock to-morrow
Jul. Shall I send to thee? Rom. At the hour 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. [gone: Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Rom. I would, I were thy bird. Jul. Sweet, so would I Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such sweet
That I shall say good night, till it be morrow.
[Exit. Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy
'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks oflight;
And from her womb children of divers kind
None but for some, and yet all different.
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?— Young son, it argues a distemper'd head, So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature; Or if not so, then here I hit it rightOur Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou been then?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine eneiny; Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies: I bear no hatred, blessed man; for lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: [is set As mine on her's, so hers is set 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 pass; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us this day.
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria! What a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
Not in a grave.
Fri. To lay one in, another out to have. Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; The other did not so.
O, she knew well, Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. Bat come, young waverer, come go with me, In one respect I'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love. Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. Fri. Wisely and slow; They stumble, that r fast. [Exeunt
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline. Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. Rom. And bad'st me bury love.
SCENE IV-A Street. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?Came he not home to-night?
Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted went, that Rosaline,
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
[a letter Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master. how he dares, being dared.
stabbed with a white wench's black eye; she Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead' through the ear with a love-song; the very pin si his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-sha And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?
Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, die O, he is the courageous captain of compliments tance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest. one, two, and the third in your bosom: the ver butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist, i gentleman of the very first house,-of the first and second cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay!
Ben. The what?
Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! B Jesu, a very good blade!-a very tall man!—a ery grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted wit good whore!-Why, is not this a lamentable thing pardonnez-moy's, who stand so much on the nes these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, the form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench O, their bons, their bons!
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herringO, flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!-Now is for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, te his lady, was but a kitchen-wench;-marry, she bad a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gar us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. Good-morrow to you both. terfeit did I give you? Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you not cos Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business wa great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.
Mer. That's as much as to say-such a case 15 yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning-to court'sy.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
What cou [ceive