Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab. This, this is she Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; True, I talk of dreams; Thou talk'st of nothing. Mer. Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. With this night's revels; and expire the term By some vile forfeit of untimely death: [Excunt. SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet's House. Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 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 unwashed too, 'tis 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 march-pane"; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan 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. Enter CAPULET, &c. with the Guests and the Maskers. Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have their toes you all : Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you: A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear. gone: gone, 'tis You are welcome, gentlemen!- Come, musicians, play. A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it girls. [Music plays, and they dance. More light, ye 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; › A sideboard on which the plate was placed. 1 i. e. Make room. For you and I are past our dancing days: 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, sir: His son is thirty. 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 8 The measure done, I 'll watch her place of stand, Tyb. This, by his voice, should 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 solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 1. Cap. Why, how now kinsman? wherefore storm you so? 8 The dance. Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, He bears him like a portly gentleman; 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: 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. Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest ; I'll not endure him. 1 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 make a mutiny among my guests' You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! 1 Cap. This trick may chance to scath9 you; - I know. what. You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time. Do you an injury. 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 hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers 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 urg'd! Give me my sin again. Jul. You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with Nurse. Marry, bachelor, - Shall have the chinks. Rom. O dear account! my Is she a Capulet? life is my foe's debt. |