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Cod

Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men fo old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my fuit?

Cap. But saying o'er what I have faid before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
She hath not feen the change of fourteen years;
Let two more fummers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too foon marr'd are those so early

made.

15

20

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man

Shut up in prifon, kept without my food,
Whipt, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good

fellow.

[read? Serv. God gi' good e'en. I pray, fir, can you Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my mifery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book! But I pray, can you read any thing you fee? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language, Serv. Ye fay honestly; Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read.

[He reads the lift.]

"Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; "County Anfelm, and his beauteous fisters; 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."

The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, 25
She is the hopeful lady of my earth :
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her confent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my confent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feaft,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,

30 A fair affembly; Whither should they come?
Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither to fupper?

Such as I love; and you among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
Earth treading stars, that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort as do lufty young men feel
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds mall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all fee,

And like her moft, whose merit most shall be:
Such, amongst view of many, mine being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me:-Go, firrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona, find those persons out,
Whose names are written there; and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.

35

Serv. To our houfe.

Rom. Whose house?

Serv. My mafter's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. Stru. Now I'll tell you without asking: My mafter is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and

40 crush a cup of wine2. Reft you merry.

Ben. At this fame ancient seast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rofaline, whom thou so lov'it;
With all the admired beauties of Verona:
Go thither; and, with untainted eye,

45 Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy fwan a crow.
Rom. When the devour religion of mine eye
Maintains fuch falihood, then turn tears to fires!
And the fe, who, often drown'd, could never die,

Serv. Find them out, whose names are written 50 Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars!

here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his laft, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am fent to find those persons, whofe names are here writ, and can never find what 55 But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd

names the writing perfon hath here writ. I must to the learned: In good time.

Enter Benvolio, and Romeo.

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning.

One fairer than my love! the all-fecing fun
Ne'er faw her match, fince first the world begun.
Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, none elfe being
[by,
Herself pois'd with herself in either eye:

Your lady's love 3 against fome other maid That I will shew you, shining at this feaft, And she shall scant shew well, that now thews beft. Rom. I'll go along, no fuch fight to be shewn, 60 But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [Exeunt. 2 A cant expreffion

This is a Gallicifm: Fille de terre is the French phrafe for an beirefs. which feems to have been once common among low people. We still fay-to crack a bottle. lady's love is the love you bear to your lady, which in our language is commonly ufed for the lady

3 Your

herfelf.

SCENE

III.

SCENE

A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.

La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,

La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold
thy peace.
[laugh,
Nurfe. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot chuse but
To think it should leave crying, and fay- Ay:

5 And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
A par'lous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea,' quoth my husband, fall'ft upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'ft to age;

I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird! 10 Wilt thou not, Jule?" it stinted, and faid-' Ay."
God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet!

Enter Juliet.

Jul. How now, who calls?
Nurse. Your mother.

Jul. Madam, I am here; what is your will?
La. Cap. This is the matter: Nurse, give leave
awhile,

We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. hou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurfe. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,

And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,

Jul. And ftint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurfe. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to

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She's not fourteen: How long is't now to Lam-25

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of:-Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your difpofition to be married?
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, thou hadst fuck'd wisdom from thy teat.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now;-
younger than you,

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

mas-tide?

La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days.

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year,

Come Lammas-eve at night, shall the be fourteen.
Sufan and she, God rest all Chriftian fouls!- 30 Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man,

Are made already mothers: by my count
I was your mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief;-
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God;
She was too good for me: But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years;
And the was wean'd, I never shall forget it,-
Of all the days of the year, upon that day :
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting i' the fun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua :-
Nay, I do bear a brain:-but, as I said,
When it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!

As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.

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This night you shall behold him at our feaft:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every several lineament,

40 And fee how one another lends content;
And what obfcur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin 3 of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:

To see it teachy, and fall out with the dug. [trow,
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, 145
To bid me trudge.

And fince that time it is eleven years :

For then the could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about.

For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband-God be with his foul!
'A was a merry man;-took up the child;
Yea,' quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
• Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more

' wit;

• Wilt thou not, Jule?"
?" and, by my holy-dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said- Ay:'
To fee now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

The fish lives in the fea; and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide :

That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story.
So shall you share all that he doth poffefs,
50 By having him, making yourself no lefs.

men.

Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by
[love?
La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris'
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move:

55 But no more deep will I endart mine eye,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fiy.
Enter a Servant.

I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? 60 nurse curs'd in the pantry, and every thing in ex

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, fupper serv'd up, you call'd, my young lady afk'd for, the

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1

4

La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county

stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy
days.

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[Exeunt.

1

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix
Masters, 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 fuch prolixity*:
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper2;
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our enterance :
But, let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch 3, I am not for this
ambling;

I'll be a candle-holder, and look on 6,
The game was ne'er fo fair, and I am done.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse7, the conftable's
own word:

5 If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire,
Or (fave your reverence) love, wherein, thou ftick't
Up to the ears. Come, we burn day-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer. I mean, fir, in delay

10 We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning; for our judgment fits Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits.

Rom. And we mean well, in going to this malk;

15 Mer. Why, may one afk?

20

But 'tis no wit to go.

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

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Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agat stone

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
(dance.
Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you 25 On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing-

shoes,

With nimble fsoles; I have a foul of lead,
So ftakes me to the ground, I cannot move.

Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And foar with them above a common bound.

Rom. I am too fore enpearced with his shaft,
To foar with his light feathers; and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I fink.

Mer. And, to fink 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.

Drawn with a team of little atomies T
Athwart men's noses as they lie afleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grashoppers;
30 The traces, of the smallett fpider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film:
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm
35 Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with 40 Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of

love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
Give me a cafe to put my visage in;

[Putting on a mask.

A visor for a vifor! what care I,
What curious eye doth quote 4 deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no fooner in,
But every man betake him to his legs.

love:

[ftraight:
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'fies
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;
45 Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are.
Sometime the gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a fuit:
And fometime comes the with a tithe-pig's tail,

Rom. A torch for me; let wantons, light of 50 Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels 5;
For I am proverb'd with a grandfire phrafe,-

Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime the driveth o'er a foldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,

2 See

It was a custom observed by those who came uninvited to a masquerade, with a defire to conceal themselves for the fake of intrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of conversation, to preface their entry on these occafions by some speech in praise of the beauty of the ladies, or the generofity of the entertainer; and to the prolixity of such introductions we believe Romeo is made to allude. note 7, p. 957. 3 A torch-bearer seems to have been a constant attendant on every troop of mafks. 4 To quote is to cbferve. 5 We have already observed, that it was anciently the custom to ftrew rooms with rushes, before carpets were in ufe. The ftage was alfo anciently strewn with rubes. • The proverb which Romeo means, is contained in the line immediately following: To bold the candle is a very common proverbial expression, for being an idle spectator. 7 Dun's the mouse is a proverbial

expreffion, the precife meaning of which cannot be determined.

to have been a game.
lighted in the day time.

8 Draw dun out of the mire, feems

9 To burn day-light is a proverbial expreffion, used when candles, &c. are 10 Atomy is no more than an obsolete substitute for atom.

Of

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That presses them, and learns them first to bear, 10 A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,

Making them women of good carriage.

This is the

Such as would please;--'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
You are welcome, gentlemen. -Come, musicians,

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Thou talk'st of nothing.

play.

A hall! a hall 5! give room, and foot it, girls.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams;

15

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And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our

selves;

[Mufick plays, and they dance.
More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.-
Ah, firrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, fit, nay, fit, good cousin Capulet;
20 For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is 't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mafk?

[much:

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.
1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not fo

25 'Tis fince 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, fir; His fon is thirty.

1 Cap. Will you tell me that?

His fon was but a ward two years ago.

Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early for my mind misgives,

Some confequence, 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,

30

By fome vile forfeit of untimely death:

But He, that hath the steerage of my course,

Direct my fail!-On, lufty gentlemen.

Ben. Strike, drum.

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Exeunt.

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SCENE V.

A Hall in Capulet's House.

Enter Servants.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to 40 As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 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 unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard 3, look to the plate:-good thou, fave me a piece of march-pane 4; and, as thou lov'st me, let the porter let in Sufan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!

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The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Did my heart love 'till now? forswear it, fight!
For I ne'er faw true beauty 'till this night.
45 Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:-
Fetch me my rapier, boy :---What, dares the flave
Come hither, cover'd with an antick face,
To fleer and scorn at our folemnity ?
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,

50 To strike him dead I hold it not a fin.

I Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore

storm you fo ?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spight,

Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer 55 To scorn at our folemnity this night. liver take all.

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This was a common superstition, and seems to have had its rise from the horrid disease called the Plica Polonica. 2 Trenchers were still used by persons of good fashion in our author's time. They continued common much longer in many public societies, particularly in colleges and inns of court ; and are still retained at Lincoln's-Inn. 3 Meaning perhaps, what we call at present the fide-board. March-pane was a confection made of pistachio-nuts, almonds, and fugar, &c. and in high esteem in

Shakspeare's time. It was a constant article in the defferts of our ancestors. occurs frequently in the old comedies, and signifies, make room.

This exclamation

Tyb. :

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,
Shew a fair prefence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-befeeming semblance for a feaft.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;

I'll not endure him.

I Cap. He shall be endur'd;

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10 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 triffing foolish banquet towards-

What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall: -Go to ;- 15 Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all;

Am I the master here, or you? go to.
You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my foul--
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will fet 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

what.

You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time
Well faid, my hearts :-You are a princox2; 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 feeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand

[Exit.

20

I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:-
More torches here! - Come on, then let's to bed.
Ah, firrah, by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my reft.

[Exeunt.

Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman!
Nurse. The fon and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he that now is going out of door!
Nurfe. That, as I think, is young Petruchio.
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would
[not dance?

25 Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go, afk his name: if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurfe. His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
The only fon of your great enemy.
30 Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early feen 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?
[To Juliet. 35 Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is thisMy lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

Tosmooth that rough touch with a tender kifs. Jul. Good pilgrim you do wrong your hand too much,

40

Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet.
Nurse. Anon, anon:-
Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
[Exeunt.

Rom. Have not faints lips, and holy palmers too?

Which mannerly devotion shews in this;
For faints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Enter CHORUS.
Now old defire doth on his death-bed lie,

Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. 45 Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,

And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair, for which love groan'd fore, and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;
But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, [hooks:
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful

Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe fuch vows as lovers use to swear; And the as much in love, her means much less

Rom. O then, dear saints, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, left faith turn to despair.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for
prayers' fake.
[I take.
Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect 50
Thus from my lips, by yours, my tin is purg'd.
[Kiffing ber.
Jul. Then have my lips the fin that they have took.
Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
Give me my fin again.
Jul. You kiss by the book.

Ii. e. to do you an injury. ready, at hand.

55

To meet her new-beloved any where:
But paffion lends them power, time means to meet,
Temp'ring extremities with extream sweet.
[Exit Chorus

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