Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breath with sweet-meats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit 5:
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
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.
Thou talk'st of nothing.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;

Mer. 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 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 ourselves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

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 sail! - On, gentlemen.

Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

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-pane7; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan and Nell. -Antony! and Potpan!

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone.
You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians,
play,

A hall! a hall! 8 give room, and foot it girls.
[Musick 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;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

Rom. O, she 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 use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows, The measure 9 done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, 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 storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?
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. You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set a 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 scath' you;-I know what.
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time-
Well said, my hearts: You are a princox 2; go:
Be quiet, or - More light, more light, for shame!-
I'll make you quiet; What! - Cheerly, my hearts.
Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.
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

[Exit.

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. 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 3, it waxes late; I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse. Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. 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 not dance?

Nurse. I know not.

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 hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. Nurse. What's this? what's this? Jul.

A rhyme I learn'd even now [One calls within, Juliet! Anon, anon:Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

Jul.

You kiss by the book.

Enter CHORUS.

[Exeunt.

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,
With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair.
Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;
But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,

And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: 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.

-

Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid.4-
He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;
The ape 5 is dead, and I must conjure him. -
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him: 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 trees,

Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.[JULIET appears above, at a Window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.-
It is my lady; O, it is my love:

O, that she knew she were! —

She speaks, yet she says nothing: What of that?
Her eye
discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Rom. She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? 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? [Aside.

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes 7, Without that title: - Romeo, doff's thy name; And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

Rom.

I take thee at thy word:

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;

Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

6 Huinid, moist. 7 Owns, possesses. 8 Do off, put off.

I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out :
And what love can do, that dares love attempt,
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let 9 to me.

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 here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;

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?

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
He 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.

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face;
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: But farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say-Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; 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 mayst 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 over-heard'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