Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanish blades, Ram. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain phantafy; Which is as thin of fubftance as the air; And more inconftant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bofom of the north, 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 felves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind mifgives, With this night's revels; and expire the term SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet's Houfe. Enter Servants. [Exeunt. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher 2! he scrape a trencher ! 2 Serv. When good manners fhall 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'ft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grind. tone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan! Enter Capulet, &c. with the Gaefts and the Mafkers. 1 Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies, that have their feet Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you :-Ah ha, my miftreffes! which of you all Will now deny to dance? the that makes dainty, she, I'll fwear, hath corns; Am I come near you now? You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day, That I have worn a vifor; and could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would pleate ;-'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: You are welcome, gentlemen.-Come, musicians, play. A hall! a hall 5! give room, and foot it, girls. More hight, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, 2 Cap. By 'r lady, thirty years. [much : 1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not fo 'Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio, Come pentecoft as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his fon 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 Of yonder knight? Serv. I know not, fir. Rom. O, the 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 ufe, for earth too dear! So fhews a fnowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows fhows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. Did my heart love 'till now ? forfwear it, fight ! For I ne'er faw true beauty 'till this night. Tyb. This, by his voice, fhould 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 folemnity? Now, by the ftock and honour of my kin, To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin. 1 Cap. Why, how now, kiniman? wherefore Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; This was a common fuperftition, and feems to have had its rife from the horrid disease called the Plica Polonica. Trenchers were ftill ufed by perfons of good fashion in our author's time. They continued common much longer in many public focieties, particularly in colleges and inns of court; and are ftili retained at Lincoln's-Inn. 3 Meaning perhaps what we call at prefent the fide-board. 4 March-pane was a confection made of pistachio-nus, lmonds, and fugar, &c. and in high efteen in Shakspeare's time. It was a conftant article in the defferts of our ancestors. 5 This exclamation occurs frequently in the old comedies, and gmnes, make room. Tyb. Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest ; 1 Cap. He fhall be endur'd; Nurfe. Madam, your mother craves a word with Ram. What is her mother? [you Nurfe. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wife, and virtuous: I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal; Rom. Is the a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. What, goodman boy !—I fay, he shall :-Go to ;- Is it e'en fo? Why, then I thank you all; Am I the mafter here, or you? go to. I thank you, honeft gentlemen; good night :- You'll not endure him !---God shall mend my 1 Cap. Go to, go to, You are a faucy boy :-Is't fo, indeed ?-- You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time- Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. This holy fhrine, the gentle fine is this- To fmooth that rough touch with a tender kifs. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion fhews in this; For faints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not faints lips, and holy palmers too? ful. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Rom.O then, dear faints, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to defpair. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' fake. [1 take. Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect Thus from my lips, by yours, my fin is purg'd. [Killing ber. Jul. Then have my lips the fin that they have took. Rom. Sin from my lips? O treipafs fweetly urg'd! Give me my fin again. Jul. You kifs by the book. i. e. to do you an injury. realy, at hand. [Exeunt. Jul. Go, afk his name :-if he be married, 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. Nurfe. What's this? what's this? Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet. Narfe. Anon, anon: Come, let's away; the ftrangers all are gone. Enter CHORUS. Now old defire doth on his death-bed lie, [Exeunt. 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. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe fuppos'd he must complain, [hooks: And the steal love's fweet bait from fearful Being held a foe, he may not have accefs To breathe fuch vows as lovers ute to fwear; And the as much in love, her means much lefs To meet her new-beloved any where : But paffion lends them power, time means to meet, Tempiring extremities with extream fweet. [Exit Cherat. SCENE L The STREET. Enter Romeo alone. ACT II. But, foft! what light through wonder window AN I go forward, when my heart is Who is already fick and pale with grief, Rom. CAN here ? And, on my life, hath ftol'n him home to bed. Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.- That thou her maid art far more fair than fhe: Be not her maid, fince the is envious; Her veital livery is but fick and green, O, that the knew fhe were !- I am too bold, 'tis not to me it speaks: Rom. She speaks By her fine foot, ftraight leg, and quivering thigh, O, fpeak again, bright angel! for thou art Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Of fome strange nature, letting it there ftand [trees, 2 Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.] Ben. Go, then; for 'tis in vain To feek him here, that means not to be found. E SCEN 11. Enter Romeo. [Exeunt. As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Deny thy father, and refufe thy name: Rom. Shall I hear more, or fhall I speak at this? ful. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; Rom. I take thee at thy word: Rom. He jefts at fcars, that never felt a wound. Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 2 Shak Alluding to an old ballad preferved in Dr. Perey's Reliques of ancient English Poetry. fpeare means humid, the moift dewy night. 3 The fenfe is, Thou art thyfeif (i. e. a being o' diftinguished excellence), though thou art not what thou appearclt to others, akin to thy family 10 malice. ful. What man art thou, that, thus befcreen'd in night, So ftumbleft on my counfel? Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the found; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Rom. Neither, fair faint, if either thee diflike. The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; Rom. Lady, by yonder bleffed moon I vow, That tips with filver all these fruit-tree tops,— Jul. O, fwear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Jul. Do not fwear at all; Or, if thou wilt, fwear by thy gracious felf, Rom. If my heart's dear love Jul. Well, do not fwear; although I joy in thee, It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too fudden; Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch This bud of love, by fummer's ripening breath, thefe walls; For ftony limits cannot hold love out : And what love can do, that dares love attempt; Jul. If they do fee thee, they will murder thee. here. Jul. I would not for the world, they faw thee Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to enquire; As that vaft fhore wafh'd with the fartheft fea, Jul. Thou know'ft, the mafk of night is on Elfe would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light: Rom. O bleffed bleffed night! I am afeard, Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, If that thy bent of love be honourable, I come, anon :-) 1 i. c. delayed. Re-enter Re-enter Fuliet again, above. Jul. Hift! Romeo, hift-0, for a faulconer's voice, I To lure this taffel-gentle back again ! Rom. It is my foul, that calls upon my name : om. My fweet ? ful. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I fend to thee? Rom. By the hour of nine. Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years 'till then. Rom. Let me ftand here 'till thou remember it. Jul. Tis almoft morning, I would have thee gone: Rom. I would, I were thy bird. Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherishing. That I fhall fay-good night, 'till it be morrow. [Exit. Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy 'Would I were fieep and peace, fo fweet to reft! [Exit. A MONASTERY. Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; None but for fome, and yet all different. 10, mickle is the powerful grace 3, that lies Rom. Good morrow, father! Fri. Benedicite! What early tongue fo fweet faluteth me?— Rom. That laft is true, the fweeter rett was mine. been then? Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. Fri. Be plain, good fon, and homely in thy drift; On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: Fri. Holy Saint Francis ! what a change is here! The taffel or tercel (for fo it fhould be fpelt) is the male of the gofshawk; fo called, because it is a tierce or third lefs than the female. dappled, freak'd, or variegated. This is equally true of all birds of prey. 3 i. e. efficacious virtue. Rrr 2 Flecked is spotted, How |