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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

i Cap. Will you tell me that ?
His son was but a ward two years ago.

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

Ser. I know not, Sir.

Rom. O The doth teach the torches to burn bright;
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Æthiop's ear :
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So fhews 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? forfwear it, fight;
I never saw true beauty 'till this night.

Tib. This by his voice should be a Mountague.
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 fin.

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

Tib. Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe:
A villain that is bither come in spight,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

Cap. Young Romeo, is't?
Tib. That villain Romeo.

Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,
He bears him like a portly gentleman :
And to fay truth, Verona brags of him,

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To

To be a virtuous and well-governd 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 refpect,
Shew a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
And ill-beseeming semblance of a feast.

Tib. It fits, when such a villain is a guest.
I'll not endure him.

Cap. He shall be endur' d.
Be quiet, or (more light, more light, for shame)
I'll make you quiet ----- What? cheerly, my hearts.

Tib. Pacience 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. Rom. If I prophane with my unworthy hand (TO Juliet.

This holy shrine, the gentle sin 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 palmer's kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too ?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

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?
Tib. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Cap. Go to, go to,
You are a faucy boy - 'tis so indeed
This trick may chance to scathe you; I know what.

.
Be quiet, &c.
Vol. VI.

L1

Rom.

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Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do,

They pray, (grant thou) lest faith turn to defpair. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother?

[To her nurse.
Nurse. 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 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, be gone, the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear, the more is my unreft.

Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it e’en fo? why then, I thank you

all,
I thank you honest gentlemen, good night:
More torches here -- come on, then let's to bed,
Ah, firrah, by my fay it waxes late.
I'll to my rest.

[Exeunt.
Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yon gentleman?
Nurse. The fon 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 be that follows here, that would not dance?
Nurse. I know not.

turn to despair.
Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers fake.
Rom. Then move not while my prayers effect I take:
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg d.

[Kiling her.
Jul. Then have my lips the sin that late they took.
Rom. Sin from my lips! O trespass sweetly urg'd:
Give me my fin again.

Jul. You kiss by th' book.
Nurse. Madam,' &c.

Jul.

*

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 Mountague,
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 rhime I learn'd e’en now Of one I danc'd withal.

[One calls within, Juliet. Nurse. Anon, anon ---Come, let's away, thest rangers all are gone.

[Exeunt.

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OW old desire doth on his death-bed lye,

And young affection gapes to be his heir:
N That Fair, for which love groan'd. sore, and

would die,
With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair.

Now Romeo is belov’d, and loves again,
Alike bewitched by the charm of looks:
But 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 breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
LI 2

And + This chorus added fince the first edition.

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,
Tempting extremities with extream sweet.

SCENE II.

The Street.

Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.

[Exit. Enter Benvolio with Mercutio. Ben. Romeo, my cousin Romeo.

Mer. He is wise,
And on my life hath stola him home to bed.

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall.
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.
Why, Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a Sigh,
Speak but one · Rhime, and I am satisfied.
Cry but Ay me! "couple but love and dove,
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name to her pur-blind son and heir,
(Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so true,
When 7 king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid -----)
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not,
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high fore-head, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demeasns that there adjacent lye,

b couple but love and day, e pur-blind Son and ber.
+ alluding to an old ballad.

That

2 time.

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