Because their breathes with fweet meats tainted are: And then dreames he of fmelling out a fute, Of healthes fiue fadome deepe, and then anon And fweares a praier or two and fleepes againe. This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backes, And proues them women of good cariage. This is the verie Mab that plats the manes of horses in the night, And plats the Elfelocks in foule fluttish haire, Which once vntangled much misfortune breedes. Rom. Peace, peace, thou talkft of nothing. Mer. True I talke of dreames, Which are the children of an idle braine, Begot of nothing but vaine fantasie, Which is as thinne a substance as the aire, And more inconstant than the winde, Which wooes euen now the frofe bowels of the north, And being angred puffes away in haste, Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth. Ben. Come, come, this winde doth blow vs from ouríelues, Supper is done and we shall come too late. Ro. I feare too earlie, for my minde mifgiues By fome vntimelie forfet of vile death. VOL. IV. B But But he that hath the fteerage of my course Enter old Capulet with the ladies. Capu. Welcome gentlemen, welcome gentlemen, And quench the fire the roome is growne too hote. Come Pentecoft as quicklie as it will, Some fiue and twentie yeares, and then we maskt. His fonne was but a ward three yeares agoe, Good youths I faith. Oh youth's a iolly thing. Rom. What ladie is that that doth inrich the hand Of yonder knight? O fhee doth teach the torches to burne bright! It feemes fhe hangs upon the cheeke of night, Like a rich iewell in an Aethiops eare, Beautie too rich for vfe, for earth too deare: Did my heart oue till now? Forfweare it fight, Tib. This by his voice should be a Mountague, Ca. Why how now cofen, wherefore storm you so. Ti. It is that villaine Romeo. Ca. Let him alone, he beares him like a portly gentleman, And to fpeake truth, Verona brags of him, As of a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all this towne, Here in my houfe doo him difparagement: Therefore be quiet take no note of him, Beare a faire prefence, and put off these frownes, An ill befeeming femblance for a feaft. Ti. It fits when fuch a villaine is a guest, Ile not indure him. Ca. He fhal be indured, goe to I fay, he fhall, Am I the master of the house or you ? You'le not indure him? God fhall mend my foule You'le make a mutenie amongst my guests, You'le fet cocke a hoope, you'le be the man. Ti. Vncle tis a fhame. Ca. Goe too, you are a faucie knaue. This tricke will feath you one day I know what. More light ye knaue, or I will make you quiet. Tibalt. Patience perforce with wilfull choller meeting, Now feeming fweet, conuert to bitter gall. Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthie hand, Juli. Good pilgrime you doe wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly deuotion fhewes in this : For faints haue hands which holy palmers touch, And palme to palme is holy palmers kisse. Rom. Haue not faints lips, and holy palmers too? Iuli. Yes pilgrime lips that they must vse in praier. Ro. Why then faire faint, let lips do what hands doo, They pray, yeeld thou, leaft faith turne to defpaire. Iu. Saints doe not mooue though: grant nor praier forfake. Ro. Then mooue not till my praiers effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours my fin is purgde. Iu. Then haue my lips the fin that they haue tooke. Ro. Sinne from my lips, O trefpaffe fweetly vrgde ! Giue me my finne againe. Iu. You kiffe by the booke. Nurfe. Madame your mother calles. Rom. What is her mother? Nurfe. Marrie batcheler her mother is the ladie of the house, and a good lady, and a wife, and a vertuous. I nurft her daughter that you talkt withall, I tell you, he that can lay hold of her fhall haue the chinkes. Rom. Is he a Mountague? Oh deare account, My life is my foes thrall. Ca. Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling foolish banquet towards. They whisper in his eare. I pray you let me intreat you. Is it fo? Iul. Nurse, what is yonder gentleman ? Iul. Whats he that now is going out of dore? Nur. That as I thinke is yong Petruchio. Exeunt Iul. Whats he that followes there that would not dance? Nur. I know not. lul Goe learne his name, if he be maried, My graue is like to be my wedding bed. Nur. His name is Romeo and a Mountague, the onely fonne of your great enemie. Iul. My onely loue fprung from my onely hate, Too early feene vnknowne, and knowne too late : Prodigious birth of loue is this to me, That I fhould loue a loathed enemie. Nurfe. Whats this? whats that? Iul. Nothing nurse but a rime I learnt euen now of one I dancft with. Nurfe. Come your mother ftaies for you, Ile goe along with you. Exeunt. Enter Romeo alone. Ro. Shall I goe forward and my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth and finde thy center out. Enter Benuolio Mercutio. Ben. Romeo, my cofen Romeo. Mer. Doeft thou heare he is wife, Vpon my life he hath ftolne him home to bed. |