That book in many's eyes doth share the glory Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. Enter a Servant. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. Lady C. We follow thee. [Exit Servant.]-Juliet, the county stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. SCENE IV.-A Street. [Exeunt. Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke But, let them measure us by what they will, Rom. Give me a torch,-I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, Mer. And to sink in it should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing. Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.Give me a case to put my visage in: A visard for a visard!-what care I [Putting on a mask. What curious eye doth quote deformities? Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in But every man betake him to his legs. Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,— The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. Mer. Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this-sir-reverence-love, wherein thou stick'st Mer. Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask; Mer. Rom. Well, what was yours? And so did I. That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Not half so big as a round little worm Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; This is she,— Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talk'st of nothing. Mer. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves: 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, With this night's revels; and expire the term But He that hath the steerage of my course Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-A Hall in CAPULET'S House. Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away! he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. 1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the courtcupboard, 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! 2 Serv. Ay, boy, ready. 1 Serv. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for in the great chamber. 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.-Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind. Enter CAPULET, &c., with the Guests and the Maskers. Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she, That I have worn a visard; 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.— A hall,—a hall! give room, and foot it, girls.— [Music plays, and they dance. More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, 2 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, 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. Cap. Will you tell me that? 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. Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague.— 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. 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. Tyb. Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him. |