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2
Two households, both alike in dignity,
3
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
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From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
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Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
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From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
7
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
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Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
9
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
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The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
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And the continuance of their parents' rage,
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Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
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Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
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The which if you with patient ears attend,
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What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
1
Verona. A public place.
2
[Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers]
4
Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
6
No, for then we should be colliers.
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I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
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Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
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I strike quickly, being moved.
14
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
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A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
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To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
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therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
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A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
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take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
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That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
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True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
28
are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
29
Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
32
The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
34
'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
35
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
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maids, and cut off their heads.
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The heads of the maids?
40
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
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take it in what sense thou wilt.
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They must take it in sense that feel it.
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Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
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'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
48
'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
49
hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes
50
two of the house of the Montagues.
52
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
54
How! turn thy back and run?
58
No, marry; I fear thee!
60
Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
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I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
65
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
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which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
67
[Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR]
69
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
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I do bite my thumb, sir.
73
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
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[Aside to GREGORY]Is the law of our side, if I say
80
No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
87
If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.
93
Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
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Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
104
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
105
[Beats down their swords]
108
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
109
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
111
I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
112
Or manage it to part these men with me.
114
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
115
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
116
Have at thee, coward!
118
[Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray;
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then enter Citizens, with clubs]
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Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
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Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
123
[Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET]
125
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
127
A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?
129
My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
130
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
131
[Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]
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Thou villain Capulet,—Hold me not, let me go.
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Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
136
[Enter PRINCE, with Attendants]
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Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
139
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,—
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Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
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That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
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With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
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On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
144
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
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And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
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Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
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By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
148
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
149
And made Verona's ancient citizens
150
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
151
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
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Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
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If ever you disturb our streets again,
154
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
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For this time, all the rest depart away:
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You Capulet; shall go along with me:
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And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
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To know our further pleasure in this case,
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To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
160
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
161
[Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO]
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Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
164
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
166
Here were the servants of your adversary,
167
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
168
I drew to part them: in the instant came
169
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
170
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
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He swung about his head and cut the winds,
172
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:
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While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
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Came more and more and fought on part and part,
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Till the prince came, who parted either part.
177
O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
178
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
180
Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
181
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
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A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
183
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
184
That westward rooteth from the city's side,
185
So early walking did I see your son:
186
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
187
And stole into the covert of the wood:
188
I, measuring his affections by my own,
189
That most are busied when they're most alone,
190
Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
191
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
193
Many a morning hath he there been seen,
194
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
195
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
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But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
197
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
198
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
199
Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
200
And private in his chamber pens himself,
201
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
202
And makes himself an artificial night:
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Black and portentous must this humour prove,
204
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
206
My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
208
I neither know it nor can learn of him.
210
Have you importuned him by any means?
212
Both by myself and many other friends:
213
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
214
Is to himself—I will not say how true—
215
But to himself so secret and so close,
216
So far from sounding and discovery,
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As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
218
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
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Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
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Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
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We would as willingly give cure as know.
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See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
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I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
227
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
228
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
229
[Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]
237
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
238
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
240
It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
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Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
250
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
252
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
253
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
255
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
256
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
257
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
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Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
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Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
260
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
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O any thing, of nothing first create!
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O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
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Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
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Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
266
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
267
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
270
No, coz, I rather weep.
274
At thy good heart's oppression.
276
Why, such is love's transgression.
277
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
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Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
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With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
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Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
281
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
282
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
283
Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
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What is it else? a madness most discreet,
285
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
288
Soft! I will go along;
289
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
291
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
292
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
294
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
296
What, shall I groan and tell thee?
299
But sadly tell me who.
301
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
302
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
303
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
305
I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
307
A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.
309
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
311
Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
312
With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
313
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
314
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
315
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
316
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
317
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
318
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
319
That when she dies with beauty dies her store.
321
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
323
She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
324
For beauty starved with her severity
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Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
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She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
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To merit bliss by making me despair:
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She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
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Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
331
Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.
333
O, teach me how I should forget to think.
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By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
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Examine other beauties.
339
To call hers exquisite, in question more:
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These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
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Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
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He that is strucken blind cannot forget
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The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
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Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
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What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
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Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
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Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.
349
I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
2
[Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant]
4
But Montague is bound as well as I,
5
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
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For men so old as we to keep the peace.
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Of honourable reckoning are you both;
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And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
10
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
12
But saying o'er what I have said before:
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My child is yet a stranger in the world;
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She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
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Let two more summers wither in their pride,
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Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
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Younger than she are happy mothers made.
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And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
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The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
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She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
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But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
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My will to her consent is but a part;
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An she agree, within her scope of choice
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Lies my consent and fair according voice.
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This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
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Whereto I have invited many a guest,
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Such as I love; and you, among the store,
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One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
31
At my poor house look to behold this night
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Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
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Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
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When well-apparell'd April on the heel
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Of limping winter treads, even such delight
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Among fresh female buds shall you this night
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Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
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And like her most whose merit most shall be:
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Which on more view, of many mine being one
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May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
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[To Servant, giving a paper]
43
Go, sirrah, trudge about
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Through fair Verona; find those persons out
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Whose names are written there, and to them say,
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My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
47
[Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS]
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Find them out whose names are written here! It is
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written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
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yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
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his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
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sent to find those persons whose names are here
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writ, and can never find what names the writing
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person hath here writ. I must to the learned.—In good time.
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[Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO]
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Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
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One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
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Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
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One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
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Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
63
And the rank poison of the old will die.
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Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.
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For what, I pray thee?
71
Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
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Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
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Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
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Whipp'd and tormented and—God-den, good fellow.
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God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?
79
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
81
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
82
pray, can you read any thing you see?
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Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
86
Ye say honestly: rest you merry!
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Stay, fellow; I can read.
90
'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
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County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
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widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
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nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
94
uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
95
Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
96
Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
97
assembly: whither should they come?
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To supper; to our house.
109
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
111
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
112
great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
113
of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
117
At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
118
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
119
With all the admired beauties of Verona:
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Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
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Compare her face with some that I shall show,
122
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
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When the devout religion of mine eye
125
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
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And these, who often drown'd could never die,
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Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
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One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
129
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
131
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
132
Herself poised with herself in either eye:
133
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
134
Your lady's love against some other maid
135
That I will show you shining at this feast,
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And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
138
I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
139
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
1
A room in Capulet’s house.
2
[Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]
4
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
6
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
7
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
8
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
18
This is the matter:—Nurse, give leave awhile,
19
We must talk in secret:—nurse, come back again;
20
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
21
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
23
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
27
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,—
28
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four—
29
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
32
A fortnight and odd days.
34
Even or odd, of all days in the year,
35
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
36
Susan and she—God rest all Christian souls!—
37
Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
38
She was too good for me: but, as I said,
39
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
40
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
41
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
42
And she was wean'd,—I never shall forget it,—
43
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
44
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
45
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
46
My lord and you were then at Mantua:—
47
Nay, I do bear a brain:—but, as I said,
48
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
49
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
50
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
51
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
53
And since that time it is eleven years;
54
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
55
She could have run and waddled all about;
56
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
57
And then my husband—God be with his soul!
58
A' was a merry man—took up the child:
59
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
60
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
61
Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
62
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
63
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
64
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
65
I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;
66
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'
68
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
70
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
71
To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
72
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
73
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
74
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
75
'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
76
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
77
Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'
79
And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
81
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
82
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
83
An I might live to see thee married once,
86
Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
87
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
88
How stands your disposition to be married?
90
It is an honour that I dream not of.
92
An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
93
I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
95
Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
96
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
97
Are made already mothers: by my count,
98
I was your mother much upon these years
99
That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
100
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
102
A man, young lady! lady, such a man
103
As all the world—why, he's a man of wax.
105
Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
107
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
109
What say you? can you love the gentleman?
110
This night you shall behold him at our feast;
111
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
112
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
113
Examine every married lineament,
114
And see how one another lends content
115
And what obscured in this fair volume lies
116
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
117
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
118
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
119
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
120
For fair without the fair within to hide:
121
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
122
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
123
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
124
By having him, making yourself no less.
126
No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.
128
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
130
I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
131
But no more deep will I endart mine eye
132
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
135
Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you
136
called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
137
the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must
138
hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
142
Juliet, the county stays.
144
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
2
[Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six [p]Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others]
4
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
5
Or shall we on without a apology?
7
The date is out of such prolixity:
8
We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
9
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
10
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
11
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
12
After the prompter, for our entrance:
13
But let them measure us by what they will;
14
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
16
Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
17
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
19
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
21
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
22
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
23
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
25
You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
26
And soar with them above a common bound.
28
I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
29
To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
30
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
31
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
33
And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
34
Too great oppression for a tender thing.
36
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
37
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
39
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
40
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
41
Give me a case to put my visage in:
42
A visor for a visor! what care I
43
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
44
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
46
Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
47
But every man betake him to his legs.
49
A torch for me: let wantons light of heart
50
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
51
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;
52
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
53
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
55
Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
56
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
57
Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
58
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
63
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
64
Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
65
Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
67
And we mean well in going to this mask;
68
But 'tis no wit to go.
72
I dream'd a dream to-night.
78
That dreamers often lie.
80
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
82
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
83
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
84
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
85
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
86
Drawn with a team of little atomies
87
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
88
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
89
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
90
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
91
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
92
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
93
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
94
Not so big as a round little worm
95
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
96
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
97
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
98
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
99
And in this state she gallops night by night
100
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
101
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
102
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
103
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
104
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
105
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
106
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
107
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
108
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
109
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
110
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
111
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
112
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
113
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
114
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
115
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
116
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
117
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
118
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
119
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
120
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
121
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
122
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
123
Making them women of good carriage:
126
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
127
Thou talk'st of nothing.
129
True, I talk of dreams,
130
Which are the children of an idle brain,
131
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
132
Which is as thin of substance as the air
133
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
134
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
135
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
136
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
138
This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
139
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
141
I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
142
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
143
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
144
With this night's revels and expire the term
145
Of a despised life closed in my breast
146
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
147
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
148
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
1
A hall in Capulet’s house.
2
[Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins]
4
Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He
5
shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!
7
When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
8
hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.
10
Away with the joint-stools, remove the
11
court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save
12
me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let
13
the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
18
You are looked for and called for, asked for and
19
sought for, in the great chamber.
21
We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
22
brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
23
[Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers]
25
Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
26
Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.
27
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
28
Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
29
She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?
30
Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
31
That I have worn a visor and could tell
32
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
33
Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
34
You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
35
A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.
36
[Music plays, and they dance]
37
More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
38
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
39
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
40
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
41
For you and I are past our dancing days:
42
How long is't now since last yourself and I
45
By'r lady, thirty years.
47
What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
48
'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
49
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
50
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
52
'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;
55
Will you tell me that?
56
His son was but a ward two years ago.
58
[To a Servingman]What lady is that, which doth
64
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
65
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
66
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
67
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
68
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
69
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
70
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
71
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
72
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
73
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
75
This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
76
Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave
77
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
78
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
79
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
80
To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.
82
Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?
84
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
85
A villain that is hither come in spite,
86
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
90
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
92
Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
93
He bears him like a portly gentleman;
94
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
95
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
96
I would not for the wealth of all the town
97
Here in my house do him disparagement:
98
Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
99
It is my will, the which if thou respect,
100
Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
101
And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
103
It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
107
What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
108
Am I the master here, or you? go to.
109
You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
110
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
111
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
113
Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
116
You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
117
This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
118
You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
119
Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
120
Be quiet, or—More light, more light! For shame!
121
I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!
123
Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
124
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
125
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall
126
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.
129
[To JULIET]If I profane with my unworthiest hand
130
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
131
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
132
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
134
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
135
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
136
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
137
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
139
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
141
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
143
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
144
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
146
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
148
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
149
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
151
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
153
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
154
Give me my sin again.
156
You kiss by the book.
158
Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
163
Her mother is the lady of the house,
164
And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
165
I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
166
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
167
Shall have the chinks.
170
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
172
Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
174
Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
176
Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
177
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
178
Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all
179
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
180
More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
181
Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
183
[Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse]
185
Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
187
The son and heir of old Tiberio.
189
What's he that now is going out of door?
191
Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.
193
What's he that follows there, that would not dance?
197
Go ask his name: if he be married.
198
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
200
His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
201
The only son of your great enemy.
203
My only love sprung from my only hate!
204
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
205
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
206
That I must love a loathed enemy.
208
What's this? what's this?
210
A rhyme I learn'd even now
211
Of one I danced withal.
212
[One calls within 'Juliet.']
215
Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
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