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A visor for a visor ! what care I,
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.
Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, — I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
Mer Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears. Come, we burn day-light, ho. Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer. I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
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.
Rome. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives,
With this night's revels; and expire the term
And so did I.
SCENE V.- A Hall in Capulet's House.
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 marchpane; 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.
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
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you:
Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she,
Such as would please; -'tis gone 'tis gone, 'tis
gone: You are welcome, gentlemen! - Come, musicians, play.
A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls.
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 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 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,
1 Cap. Why, how now kinsman? wherefore storm you so?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
'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 not endure him! God shall mend my soulYou'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 scath you;- I know
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time-
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night : —
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 Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, JULIET. Nurse. Anon, anon:Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
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:
Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.
[He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it.
SCENE I. -An open Place, adjoining Capulet's | But, soft! what light through yonder window
Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.
Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! Mer. He is wise; And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:
Call, good Mercutio.
Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied Cry but Ah me! couple but - love and dove; 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. He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure thee by Rósaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees,
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. Romeo, good night; - I'll to my truckle-bed;" This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go?
Go, then; for 'tis in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found.
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.
SCENE II. - Capulet's Garden.
Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.— [JULIET appears above, at a window.
/ kur sichong 4 h
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! -
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 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 :
Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
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, Without that title: :- Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in
By a name 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;
Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch
For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee
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,
Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Do not swear at all;
2 un dieze
Which is the god of my idolatry,
Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
[Nurse calls within.
And, but thou love me, let them find me here:
Rom. O blessed blessed night! I am afeard,
Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to in
If my heart's dear love -
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it : And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? for what pur-
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
Re-enter JULIET, above.
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
Jul. I come, anon: - But if thou mean'st not
I do beseech thee,
Nurse. [Within.] Madam.
By and by, I come : -
Rom. So thrive my soul; · Jul. A thousand times good night! [Erit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books;
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly.
Re-enter JULIET, above.
Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name.
Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket.
Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
None but for some, and yet all different.
Rom. Good morrow, father!
Benedicile ! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine. Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. Fri. That's my good son: But where hast tho been then?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here!
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!