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Such as I love; and you, anong the store, [more. once more, most welcome, makes, my number At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light : such comfort, as do lusty young men feel when well-apparell’d April on the heel, of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night inherit” at my house; here all, all see, And like her most, whose merit most shall be : such, amongst view of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning t noire. Come, go with me;—Go, Sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona: find those persons out, whose names are written there, [Gives a Paper.] and to then say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Ereunt Capulet and PAR is. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here It is written—that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned :-In good time.

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Ben. For what, I pray thee 7 Rom. For your broken shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is : Shut up in prison, kept without my food, who, "... tormented, and—Good-e'en, good ellow. Serv. God gi’ good e'en.—I pray, Sir, can you read 2 Fom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book : But I pray, can yon read any thing you see ? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly ; Rest you merry : Rom. Stay, fellow ; I can read. [Reads.

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not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine." Rest your merry I [Erif. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires : And these, who often drown'd could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars : One fairer than my love th' all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun. Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: But in those crystal scales let there be weigh’d Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you, shiuing at this feast, Aud she shall scant: show well, that now shows best. Rom. Ill go along, no such sight to be shown. But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.

[Ereunt. SCENE III.-A Room in CAPUlrt’s House.

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Jul. How now, who calls Nurse. Your in other. Jul. Madam, I am here, What is your will La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st, my daughter’s of a pretty age. Aaro 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an Our. La. Cap She's not fourteen. Nurse. I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth And **, to my teen be it spoken, I have but our, She is not fourteen : How long is it now To Lammas-tide : La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Coune Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan and she, God rest all Christian souls 1– Were of an age.—Well, Susan is with God ; She was too good for me: But, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall slie, marry; I remenber it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years And she was wean'd, I never shall it, Of all the days of the year, upon that day For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, My lord and you were then at Mantua :— Nay, I do bear a brain : ||—but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool I To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove-house : ’twas too I trow, To bod me trudge.

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And since that time it is cleven years: For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood * She could have run and waddled all about. For even the day before, she broke her brow: And then my husband–God be with his soul I 'A was a merry man ;-took up the child : Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face 2 Thou wilt fall backward, when thow hast more trit ; Wilt the u not, Jule f and by my holy dam, t The pretty wretch left crying, and said–Ay: To see now, how a jest shali come about ! 1 warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule * quoth he . And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said–Ay. La. Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and say—Ay: And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bunp as big as a young cockrel’s stone; A parious knock ; and it cried bitterly. } ca, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face The is a lit said backuoard, twhen thout com'st to age ; Witt that not, Jute f it stinted, and said–Ay. Jal. And siiat thou too, I play thee, nurse, say I. Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace : ; Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd : An i might live to see thee married once, I have uy wish. La. Cep. Marry, that marry is the very therne 1 came to talk of :—Tell me, danghter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married ? Jul. it is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse. An houdur ! were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of imarriage now ; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made aiready mothers : by my count, ! was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief ;The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Marse. A man, young lady lady, such a man, As all the world—why, he's a man of wax. La. Cap. Verona’s summer hath uot such a flower, Marse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very fewer. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman 7 This night you shall behold him at our feast : Read o'er the volume of young Paris' flee, And and delight writ there with beauty's pen ; Examine every Inarried lineament, And are how one another lends content; Aoi wbat obscur'd in this fair volume lies, Food written in the margin of his eyes." This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover : The tel, lives in the sea; ** and 'tis much pride, For fair without the fair within to hide : That book in Inany’s eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; ** shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less. Morse. No less 1 nay, bigger; women grow by area.

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La. o * briefly, can you like of Paris' ove Jul. I’ll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will 1 endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a SER v ANT.

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Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse of Or shall we on without apology Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: * We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd, with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; + Nor no without-book prologne, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure thein a measure, I and be gone. Rom. Give me a torch, 3–I am not for this ambling ; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. . gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with thein above a common bound. Rom. I am too sore empierced with his shaft, To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink. Mer. * to sink in it, should you burden ove ; Too great oppression for a tender thing. Rom. Is love a tender thing : it is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love ; - [down.— Prick love for pricking, and you beat love Give me a case to put my visage in : [Putting on a Mask, A visor for a visor –what care 1, What curious eye doth quote|| deformities? Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me. Ben. Conne, knock, and enter; and no sooner But every man be take him to his legs. [iu, Roma. § torch for me: let wantons, light of eart, Tickle the senseless rushes of with their heels ; , For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, The game was ne'er so fair, and I am dome. ** Mer. Tut I dun's the nuouse, the constable's own word : If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears.-Come, we burn day-light, ho.

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* I.e. Long speeches are out of fashion.

t A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten crows.

t A dance.

* A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers. a Observe.

* Even in the reign of Charles, the floors of the or st houses were strewed with rushes.

** This is equivalent to phrases in common use---I am done for, it is over will. Inc.

Rom. Nay, that's not so. Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay we waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. Rom. And we mean well, in going to this unask; But 'tis no wit to go. Afer. Why, may one ask? Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. Mer. And so did I. Rom. Well, what was yours ? Mer. That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. Othen, 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-fiuger 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; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the mooushine’s wat'ry beams: Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash of filin : Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love : On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight : O'er lo. fingers, who straight dream on ees : O'er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: * And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon Drums in , his ear; at which he starts, and wakes, And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elf-locks t in foui sluggish hairs, Which, once untanlged, much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That Pro them, and learns thein first to ar, Making them women of good carriage. to: this is she— om. Peace, ce, Mercutio ce: Thou talk'st of o; - , peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams: Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air ; 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,

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1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away 7 he shift a trencher I he scrape a trencher I 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 court-cupboard," 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 a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind.

Enter CApulet, &c. orith the Guests and the Maskers.

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome 1 ladies, that have their toes [you :— Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with Ah has my mistresses which of you all Will now o to dauce 7 she that makes dainty, she, I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you now * You are welcome, gentlemen I I have seen the day, That I have worn a visor, and could tell A whispering tale in 2 fair lady's ear, Such as would please ;-'tis gone, ’tis gone, 'tis gone : (play. You are welcome, gentlemen —Come, musicians, A hall a hall ! I give rooin, and foot it, girls. [Music plays, and they dance. More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up. Aud quo. the fire, the room is grown too ot.— Ah! Sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet ; For you and I are past our danciug days : How long is't now, since last yourself and I Were in a mask f 2 Cap. By’r lady, thirty years. 1 Cap. What, man I 'tis not so unuch ; '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 Imask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, ’tis more : his son is elder. His son is thirty. [Sir : 1 Cap. Will you tell me that ? His son was but a ward two years ago. Ron. * lady's that, which dolla enrich the an Of yonder knight 1 Serv. I know not, Sir. Rom. O she doth teach the torches to turn bright ! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's $ ear : Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear 1 So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The ineasure | done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching her's, make happy my rude laand.

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Nurse. Madam, your mother 'craves a word
with you.
Rom. What is her mother 1
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 chinks.
Rom. Is she a Capulet 7
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.-
Is it e'en so Why, then I thank you all ;
I thank you, honest gentlemen ; good night:-
More torches here !-Colne on, then let's to
bed. [late ;
Ah, Sirrah, [To 2 CAP.] by my fay, t it waxes
I'll to my rest.
[Eaeunt all but Juliet and Nuns E.
Jul. Coine hither, nurse : What is you gen-
tleman
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of
door 7
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Pe-
truchio.
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would
not dance of
Nurse. I know not.
Jul. Go, ask his name :-if he be married,
My grave is like to be my welding bed.
Nurse. His name is Roineo, 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 1 -
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I unust love a loathed enemy.
Nurse. What's this 1 what's this f
Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now
Of one I danc'd withal.
[Onc calls within, Juliet
Nurse. Anon, anon :-
Coule, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
[E., cunt.

Enter Chon Us.

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir ;
That fair, which love groan'd for, 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 steals love's sweet bait frou fearful
hooks:
Being held a foe, he may not have access
To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
And she as much in love, her ineans Inuch less
To meet her new-beloved any where :
But passion lends them power, time means to
meet,
Temp'ring extremities with extreme *:::: it.
2.1 to -

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Ben. Romeo my cousin Romeo! Mer. He is wise ; And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall : Call, good Mercutio. Mer. Nay, 1'll conjure too.— Romeo humours madman passion I lover ! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied : Cry but—Ah me! couple but—love and dove ; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so triun, When king Cophetua lov'd the beggarmaid. *— He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape t is dead, and I must conjure him.— I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us. Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger

him. Mer. This cannot anger him : 'twould anger To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle [him

Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it, and conjur’d it down;
That were some spite : my invocation
Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress’ name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those
trees,
To be consorted with the humorous : night:
Blind is his love, and best belits the dark.
Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the
mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.—
Romeo, good night;-I'll to my truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep :
Come, shall we go o
Ben. Go, then ; for 'tis in vain
To seek him here, that means not to be found.
- - [Erewnt.

SCENE II.-CAPULET’s Garden.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.— [Juli et appears above at a Window. But, soft what light through yonder window breaks :

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun 1–
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she
Be not her maid, ; since she is envious ;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it ; cast il off.-
It is my lady; 0 it is my love:
O that she knew she were 1–
She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.—
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
what if her eyes were there, they in her head
The brightness of her cheek would shame those
stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not
night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand

* Alluding to the old ballad of the King and the

orwar. t This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an expression of tenderness. 1 Humid, | * A vulary to the moau, to Diana.

O that I were a glove npon that hand.
That I might touch that cheek i
Jul. Ah me !
Rom. She speaks:–
0 speak again, bright angel I for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-paciug clouds,
And sails upon the bosom o the air.
Jul. O Romeo, Romeo 1 wherefore art thou
Roineo 7
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:
or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn muy love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Rom. Shall I hear unore, or shall 1 speak at
this f (A side.
Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;-
Thou art thyself though, not a Moutague.
What's Montague f it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor auy other part
Belonging to a man. O be some other name :
What's in a name t that which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet :
So Romeo would, were he not Rouneo call'd :
Retain that dear perfection which he owes. *
Without that title:–Romeo, doff t thy name : .
And for that name, which is no part of ulee,
Take all myself.
Rom. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd :
llenceforth I never will be Romeo.
Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd
in night,
So stumblest on my counsel ?
Rom. By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am :
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred
words
Of that tougue's utterance, yet I know the
sound :
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague t
Roni. No. fair saint, if eiuler thee dis-
ike.
Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and
whereföre 2
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erPerch
these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out :
And what love can do, that dates love attempt ;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no lett to me.
Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder

thee. Rom. Alack there lies more peril in thine eye [sweet,

Than twenty of their swords: look thou but
And I ain proof against their enmity.
Jul. I would not, for the world, they saw thee
here.
Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from
their sight;
And, but thou love one,: let them find one here :
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this
place 2
Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to iu-
quire;
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot: yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea.
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my
face:
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,

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