1. S.

Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

2. S.

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

1. S.

Away with the joint-stools, remove the court cup-board, look to the plate:—good thou, save me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou lov'st ^note me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.—Antony! Potpan!14Q1394

3. S. ^note

Ay, boy; ready.

1. S.

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

2. S.

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

Cap.
Welcome, gentlemen! ladies, that have their toes
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout ^note with you:—
Ah ha ^note, my mistresses ^note! 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 ^note?—
Welcome you too, gentlemen! I have seen the day,
That I have worn a visor; and could tell
A whisp'ring tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please;—'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:—
You are welcome, gentlemen.—Come, musicians, play.— [Musick. Dance forming.

A ^note hall, a hall! give room, and foot it, girls.—
More light, ye knaves ^note; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.—
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; [drawing him a Chair.
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask? ^note

Cou.
By'r-lady, thirty years.

Cap.
What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio ^note,
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.

Cou.
'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir;
His son is thirty.

Cap.
Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago. [Juliet is taken out.

Rom.
What lady's ^note that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight? [to a Servant.

Ser.
I know not, sir. [Company dance.

Rom.
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty hangs ^note upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shews ^note 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 ^note rude hand.
Did my heart love 'till now? forswear it, sight;
For I ne'er ^note saw true beauty 'till this night.

Tyb.
This, by his voice, should be a Mountague:—
Fetch me my rapier, boy:—What, dares the slave
Come hither, cover'd with an antick ^note 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 ^note a sin.

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

Tyb.
Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at ^note our solemnity this night.

Cap.
Young Romeo is't?

Tyb.
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

Cap.
Content thee, gentle coz', let him alone,
'A 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 ^note,
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 ^note 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.

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 ^note!
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

Tyb.
Why, uncle, 'tis a shame:

Cap.
Go to, go to,

You are a saucy boy:—Is't so ^note, indeed?—
This trick may chance to scathe you; I know what.
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time.—
Well said, my hearts:—You are a princox; go:
Be quiet, or—More light, ^note more light, for shame!—
I'll make you quiet; What!—Chearly, my hearts.

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 ^note gall. [Exit. [Dance ends. Juliet retires to her Seat. [Exit.

Rom.
If I prophane with my unworthy ^note hand [drawing up to her, and taking her Hand.
  This holy shrine, the gentle fine ^note is ^note this ^note—
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready ^note stand
  To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Jul.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much
  Which mannerly devotion shews ^note in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do ^note 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, tho' grant for prayers' sake

Rom.
Then move not while my ^note prayer's effect I take ^note
Thus † from my lips, by yours, my ^note sin is purg'd.

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

Rom.
Sin from my lips?—O trespass sweetly urg'd!
  Give me my kiss again. [kissing her again

Jul.
You kiss by the book.

Nur.
Madam, your mother craves a word with you

Rom.
What is her mother?

Nur.
Marry, batchelor,
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 ^note withal;
I tell you—he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chink ^note.

Rom.
Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

Ben.
Away, begone; ^note the sport is at the best.

Rom.
Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

Cap.
Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. [Maskers excuse themselves with a Bow.
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.
Ah, sirrah, [to his Cousin.] by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest. [Company retire.

Jul.
Come hither, nurse: What is yon' gentleman?

Nur.
The son and heir of old Tiberio.

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

Nur.
Marry, that, I think, be young ^note Petruchio.

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

Nur.
I know not.

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

Nur.
His name is Romeo, and a Mountague;
The only son of your ^note great enemy.

Jul.
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, ^note and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to ^note me,

That I must love ^note a loathed enemy.

Nur.
What's this? what this ^note?

Jul.
A rime I learnt ^note even now
Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within.

Nur.
Anon, anon:—
Come, let's away; the strangers are all góne. [Exeunt.

Enter Chorus.
Now old desire doth on ^note his death-bed lie,
  and young affection gapes to be his heir;
that fair, for which love groan'd sore, and ^{note note} would die,
  with tender Juliet match'd ^note, is now not fair:
Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
  alike bewitched by the charm of looks;
yet to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
  and she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
Being held a foe, he may not have access
  to breath 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 ^note extremities with éxtream sweet. [Exit.

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