A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,

Such as would please; 't is gone, 't is gone, 't is 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, ye knaves; 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;

For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is 't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

1 CAP. What, man! 't is not so much, 't is not so much: 'T is since the nuptial of Lucentio,

Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,

Some five-and-twenty years; and then we mask’d.

2 CAP. "T is more, 't is more: his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty.

1 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?

ROM. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night

As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows 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 rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

TYB. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:-
Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What? dares the slave
Come hither, cover'd with an antic 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 sin.

1 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.

1 CAP. Young Romeo is 't? TYB.

"T is he, that villain Romeo.

1 CAP. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,
He 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 the town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement:
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will;
the which if thou respect,
Show a 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.

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!

TYB. Why, uncle, 't is a shame.

1 CAP.

Go to, go to,
You are a saucy boy:-Is 't so indeed?

This trick may chance to scath you;—I know what.
You must contrary me!—marry, 't is time—
Well said, my hearts!-You are a princox; go:-
Be quiet, or-More light, more light.--For shame!—
I'll make you quiet; What!—Cheerly, 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 gall.

[Eart

ROM. If I profane with my unworthiest 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 shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do 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, though grant for prayers' sake. ROM. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her JUL. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. ROM. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! Give me my sin again.

JUL.

You kiss by the book.

NURSE. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
ROM. What is her mother?

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?

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!-Come on, then let 's to bed.
Ah, sirrah [To 2 CAP.], by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest.

[Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse, JUL. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman? NURSE. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

JUL. What's he, that now is going out of door?
NURSE. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.

JUL. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance?
NURSE. I know not.

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 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!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.
NURSE. What 's this? What's this?
JUL.

Of one I danc'd withal.

NURSE.

A rhyme I learn'd even now [One calls within "Juliet."

Anon, anon:

Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

Enter CHORUS.

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,

And young affection gapes

to be his heir;

[Exeunt.

That fair, for 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 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;

And she as much in love, her means much less

To meet her new-beloved anywhere:

But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,
Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet.

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I-An open Place adjoining Capulet's Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

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

[He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

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 leapt this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio.

MER.

Nay, I'll conjure too.
Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied.
Cry but-Ah me! pronounce but love and dove;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When 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 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: 't would anger him

To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle

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 these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night:

Blind is his love, and best befits 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?