1 Serv.

^{4 note}Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher^{5 note}

2 Serv.

When good manners shall lie all in one or two mens' hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Serv.

Away with the joint-stools, remove the ^{6 note}

^{7 note}

2 Serv.

Ay, boy; ready.

1 Serv.

You are look'd for, and call'd for, ask'd for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 Serv.

We cannot be here and there too.—Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.

1 Cap.
Welcome, gentlemen! ladies, that have their feet
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you:—
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 you now?
You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day,
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:
^{8 note}You are welcome, gentlemen.—Come, musicians, play.
^{9 note}

For you and I are past ^{2 note}our dancing days:
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

2 Cap.
By'r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap.
What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
'Tis since 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, sir;
His son is thirty.

1 Cap.
^{3 note}

Rom.
What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight? 9Q1103

Serv.
I know not, sir.

Rom.
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night^{4 note}

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shews 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^{5 note}

.

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,
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.

1 Cap.
Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore storm you so?

Tyb.
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spight,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

1 Cap.
Young Romeo is't?

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 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 soul—
You'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 scathe you^{6 note}

Tyb.
^{9 note}
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.

Rom.
^{1 note}


If I profane with my unworthy hand [To Juliet.
  This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this—
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
  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.
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.

Jul.
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Rom.
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her.

Jul.
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Rom.
Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
Give me my sin again.

Jul.
You kiss by the book.9Q1104

Nurse.
Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

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:
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
I tell you—he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chink.

Rom.
Is she a Capulet?
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 trifling foolish banquet towards^{2 note}

Jul.
Come hither, nurse^{4 note}: What is yon gentleman?

Nurse.
The son and heir of old Tiberio.

Jul.
What's he, that now is going out of door?

Nurse.
That, as I think, is young Petruchio.

Jul.
What's he, that follows there, that would not dance?

Nurse.
I know not.

Jul.
Go, ask his name:—if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.9Q1105

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. [Exeunt.

Enter ^{5 note}

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