The Same. A Hall in CAPULET’S House. | |
| |
Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen. | |
| First Serv. Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! | |
| Sec. Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s hands, and they unwashed too, ’tis a foul thing. | 4 |
| First 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! | |
| Sec. Serv. Ay, boy; ready. | |
| First Serv. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for in the great chamber. | |
| Third Serv. We cannot be here and there too. | 8 |
| Sec. Serv. Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind. | |
| |
Enter CAPULET and JULIET and Others of his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers. | |
| Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes | |
| Unplagu’d with corns will walk a bout with you. | 12 |
| Ah ha! my mistresses, which of you all | |
| Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she, | |
| I’ll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now? | |
| Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day | 16 |
| That I have worn a visor, and could tell | |
| 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. | 20 |
| A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. [Music plays, and they dance. | |
| More light, ye knaves! and turn the tables up, | |
| And quench the fire, the room has grown too hot. | |
| Ah! sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well. | 24 |
| 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? | 28 |
| Sec. Cap. By’r Lady, thirty years. | |
| Cap. What, man! ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much: | |
| ’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, | |
| Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, | 32 |
| Some five and twenty years; and then we mask’d. | |
| Sec. Cap. ’Tis more, ’tis more; his son is elder, sir. | |
| His son is thirty. | |
| Cap. Will you tell me that? | 36 |
| His son was but a ward two years ago. | |
| Rom. What lady is that which doth enrich the hand | |
| Of yonder knight? | |
| Serv. I know not, sir. | 40 |
| Rom. O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright. | |
| It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night | |
| Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear; | |
| Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! | 44 |
| 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 blessed my rude hand. | 48 |
| 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 | 52 |
| 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. | 56 |
| 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. | 60 |
| Cap. Young Romeo, is it? | |
| Tyb. ’Tis he, that villain Romeo. | |
| Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone: | |
| He bears him like a portly gentleman; | 64 |
| 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; | 68 |
| 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. | 72 |
| Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: | |
| I’ll not endure him. | |
| Cap. He shall be endur’d: | |
| What! goodman boy; I say, he shall, go to; | 76 |
| Am I the master here, or you? go to. | |
| You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! | |
| You’ll make a mutiny among my guests! | |
| You will set cock-a-hoop! you’ll be the man! | 80 |
| Tyb. Why, uncle, ’tis a shame. | |
| Cap. Go to, go to; | |
| You are a saucy boy—is’t so indeed?— | |
| This trick may chance to scathe you.—I know what: | 84 |
| You must contrary me! marry, ’tis time. | |
| Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go: | |
| Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame! | |
| I’ll make you quiet. What! cheerly, my hearts! | 88 |
| 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. [Exit. | 92 |
| Rom. [To JULIET.] If I profane with my unworthiest hand | |
| This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; | |
| My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand | |
| To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. | 96 |
| 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. | 100 |
| 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. | 104 |
| Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake. | |
| Rom. Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take. | |
| Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg’d. [Kissing her. | |
| Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. | 108 |
| Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d! | |
| Give me my sin again. | |
| Jul. You kiss by the book. | |
| Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. | 112 |
| Rom. What is her mother? | |
| Nurse. Marry, bachelor, | |
| Her mother is the lady of the house, | |
| And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous: | 116 |
| I nurs’d her daughter, that you talk’d withal; | |
| I tell you he that can lay hold of her | |
| Shall have the chinks. | |
| Rom. Is she a Capulet? | 120 |
| O dear account! my life is my foe’s debt. | |
| Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. | |
| Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. | |
| Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; | 124 |
| 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. | 128 |
| Ah! sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late; | |
| I’ll to my rest. [Exeunt all except JULIET and Nurse. | |
| Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? | |
| Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. | 132 |
| 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. | 136 |
| 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. | 140 |
| 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. | 144 |
| Nurse. What’s this, what’s this? | |
| Jul. A rime I learn’d even now | |
| Of one I danc’d withal. [One calls within, ‘JULIET!’ | |
| Nurse. Anon, anon!— | 148 |
| Come, let’s away; the strangers are all gone. [Exeunt. | |
