Which are the children of an idle brain, 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 [Exeunt. SCENE V.-A Hall in CAPULET'S House. Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 1st Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! 2nd Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 't is a foul thing. 1st 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? 2nd Serv. Ay, boy; ready. 1st Serv. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. 2nd 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. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you: Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all That I have worn a visor, and could tell You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians, play. A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. By 'r lady, thirty years. Cap. What, man! 't is not so much, 't is not so much: "T is since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we masked. 2nd Cap. "T is more, 't is more: his son is elder, sir; Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:- 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. Cap. Young Romeo is 't? "T is he, that villain Romeo. Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him. Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shews in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 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. 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 loathéd enemy. Nurse. What's this; what's this? Jul. A rhyme I learned even now Of one I danced withal. Enter Chorus. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groaned for, and would die, With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair. Now Romeo is beloved, and loves again, Alike, bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe supposed 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 inuch in love, her means much less To meet her new-belovéd anywhere: But passion lends them power, time means, to meet Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.- Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him; 't would anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night: Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. 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!- She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that? I am too bold; 't is not to me she speaks: She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : 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, Rom. I take thee at thy word: Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? I know not how to tell thee who I am: 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 maid, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out: 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 eyes; And, but thou love me, let them find me here: Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to in quire: He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, face; |