Serv. God gi' good e'en. I pray, sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [reads. 'Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.' Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that beServ. Now, I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. [erit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admir'd beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires! And these,-who, often drowned, could never Transparent heretics, he burnt for liars! [die,— One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun. Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: But in those 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 shows best. Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [exeunt. SCENE III. A ROOM IN CAPULET'S HOUSE. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour Lady C. She's not fourteen. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but She's not fourteen.-How long is it now [four,— To Lammas-tide? Lady C. A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, And since that time it is eleven years: Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holy-dam And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said, ' Ay.' Lady C. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy Lady C. Well, think of marriage now; younger Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride, Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd SCENE IV. A STREET. I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.- [putting on a mask A visor, for a visor !—what care I, Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own Mer. I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like damps by day. Mer. Why, may one ask? Rom. I dream't a dream to-night. [true. Rom. Well, what was yours? Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Rom. What, shall this speech be spoken for our Or shall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: Rom. Give me a torch,—I am not for this am- Rom. I am too sore empierced with his shaft, Her waggon spokes made of long spinners' legs; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: Tickling a parson s nose as 'a lies asleep, Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brair 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 ourSupper is done, and we shall come too late. [selves, Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives, 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 soul!-On, lusty gentlemen. Ben. Strike, drum. [xeunt. 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 Grindstone, 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 awhile, and the longer iver take all. [they retire behind. Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests and the Maskers. Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ladies, that have their toes [you :Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all [she, Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, I'll swear, hath corns. Am I come near you now? You are 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, [gone; Such as would please ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians, A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. [play. [music plays, and they dance. More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, 2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. [so much : 1 Cap. What, man, 'tis not so much, 'tis not '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 Of yonder knight? Serv. I know not, sir [hand [bright! Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching her's, make happy 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 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 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, An 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. [sou.You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame 1 Cap. Go to, go to, You are a saucy boy.-Is't so, indeed ? This trick may chance to scathe you ;-I know | Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. 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 Which mannerly devotion shows in this; [much, For saints have hands, that pilgrims' hands do And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. [touch, Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. [do; Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake. [I take. Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. [kissing her. Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. [urg'd! Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly Give me my sin again. Jul. You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word [with you. Her mother is the lady of the house, Rom. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Ben. Away, begone: the sport is at the best. Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. 1 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, [to 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late; I'll to my rest. [exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse. Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleNurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. [man? Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would Nurse. I know not. [not dance? 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 hat! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. Nurse. Whats this? what's this? Jul. 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. [exeunt. Enter Chorus. Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful Being held a foe, he may not have access [hooks: 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. ACT II. Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found. That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she: She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Jul. Ah me! Rom. She speaks : O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art I know not how to tell thee who I am: Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred 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'erperch Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their As that vast shore washed by the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise. [face; Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say-Ay; Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at [aside. Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;— And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear’st, |