Act I. Scene
V.
Scene V.—The Same. A Hall in CAPULET'S
House.
Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen.
First Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps
not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape
a trencher!
Sec. Serv. When good manners shall lie all in
one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too,
'tis a foul thing.
First 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 Grind-
stone and Nell. Antony! and Potpan!
Sec. Serv. Ay, boy; ready.
First Serv. You are looked for and called
for, asked for and sought for in the great
chamber.
Third Serv. We cannot be here and there
too.
Sec. Serv. Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and
the longer liver take all. [They retire behind-
Enter CAPULET and JULIET and Others of his
house, meeting the Guests and Maskers.
Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have
their toes
Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you.
Ah ha! my mistresses, which of you all
Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
she,
I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye
now?
Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
That I have worn a visor, 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, ye knaves! and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room has 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?
Sec. 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.
Sec. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his sou is elder,
sir.
His son is thirty.
Cap. Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago. 44
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.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like 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 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 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.
Cap. Young Romeo, is it?
Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
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 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 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.
Cap. 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!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
Cap. Go to, go to;
You are a saucy boy—is't so indeed?—
This trick may chance to scathe you.—I know
what:
You must contrary me! marry, 'tis 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. [Exit.
Rom. [To JULIET.] If I profane with my un-
worthiest hand
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 de-
spair.
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, be gone; the sport is at the
best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
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 I Come on then, let's to bed.
Ah! sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all except JULIET
and Nurse.
Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond
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. A rime I learn'd even now
Of one I danc'd withal.
[One calls within, 'JULIET!'
Nurse. Anon, anon! —
Come, let's away; the strangers are all gone.
[Exeunt.
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