And fometimes comes fhe with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling the parfon as he lies afleep;
Then dreams he of another Benefice.
Sometimes the driveth o'er a foldier's neck,
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horfes in the night,
And cakes the elf-locks in foul fluttifh hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them first to bear;
Making them women of good carriage:
This is the

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk'ft of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing, but vain phantafie;
Which is as thin of fubftance as the air,
And more unconftant than the wind; who wooes
Ev'n now the frozen bofom of the north,

And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,

Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our felves

Supper is done, and we fhall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind mifgives,

Some confequence, yet hanging in the Stars,

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a defpifed life clos'd in my breaft,
By fome vile forfeit of untimely death.
But he, that hath the fteerage of my course,
Direct my fuit! On, lufty Gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[They march about the Stage, and Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE changes to a Hall in Capulet's House.

Ser.

Enter Servants, with Napkins.

HERE's Potpan, that he helps not to v; he shift a trencher! he scrape

W take away

a trencher!

2 Ser. When good manners fhall lie all in one or two mens' hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Ser. Away with the joint-ftools, remove the courtcup-board, look to the plate: good thou, fave me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou loveft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grindstone, and Nell. Antony, and Potpan

2 Ser. Ay, boy, ready.

1 Ser. You are look'd for, call'd for, ask'd for, and fought for, in the great chamber.

2 Ser. We cannot be here and there too; cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [Exeunt.

Enter all the Guefts and Ladies, with the maskers.. 1 Cap. Welcome, Gentlemen. Ladies, that have your

feet

Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you.
Ah me, my mistresses, which of you all

Will now deny to dance? fhe that makes dainty,
I'll fwear, hath corns; am I come near you now?
Welcome, all, Gentlemen; I've seen the day
That I have worn a vifor, and could tell

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,

up;

Such as would please: 'tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone!
[Mufick plays, and they dance.
More light, ye knaves, and turn the tables
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
Ah, Sirrah, this unlook'd-for fport comes well.
Nay, fit; nay, fit, good coufin Capulet,
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now fince last your felf and I
VOL. VIII.

B

Were

Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.

Cap. What, man! 'tis not fo much, 'tis not fo much;

'Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio,

Come Pentecoft as quickly as it will,

Some five and twenty years, and then we mask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his son is elder, Sir: His fon is thirty.

1 Cap. Will you tell me that?

His fon 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 Ethiop's ear:

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So fhews a fnowy 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 faw true beauty 'till this night.

Tyb. This by his voice fhould be a Montague.
Fetch me my rapier, boy: what! dares the flave
Come hither cover'd with an antick face,
To fleer and scorn at our folemnity?

Now by the flock and honour of my kin,

To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin.

Cap. Why, how now, kinsman, wherefore storm you fo?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe:
A villain, that is hither come in fpight,
To scorn at our folemnity this night.
Cap. Young Romeo, is't?

Tyb. 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,

To

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,
Shew a fair prefence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-befeeming femblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when fuch a villain is a guest.
I'll not endure him.

Cap. He fhall be endur'd.

What, goodman boy-I fay, he fhall. Go to
Am I the mafter here, or you? go to-
You'll not endure him! God fhall mend

my foul,
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will fet cock-a-hoop? you'll be the man?
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Cap. Go to, go to,

You are a fawcy boy-is't fo, indeed?

This trick may chance to scathe you; I know what.

You must contrary me! Marry, 'tis time.

Well faid, my hearts:

Be quiet, or (more light,

You are a Princox, go:more light, for fhame) 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 intrufion fhall,

Now feeming fweet, convert to bitter gall.

Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand (5)

(5) If I profane with my unworthy hand

This holy Shrine, the gentle Sin is this,

[To Juliet.'

My Lips, wo blushing Pilgrims, &c.] All Profanations are fuppos'd to be expiated either by fome meritorious Action, or by fome Penance undergone and Punishment fubmitted to. So, Romeo would here fay, if I have been profane in the rude Touch of my Hand, my Lips ftand ready, as two blushing Pilgrims, to take off that Offence, to atone for it, by a fweet Penance. Our Poet therefore must have wrote,

This holy fhrine, the gentle Fine is this; My lips, two blufhing pilgrims, ready ftand,

To fmooth that rough Touch with a tender kifs. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion fhews in this;

For Saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kifs.

Rom. Have not faints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must ufe in prayer. Rom. O then, dear faint, let lips do what hands do: They pray, (grant thou) left faith 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 fin is purg'd.

[Kiffing her. Jul. Then have my lips the fin that late they took. Rom. Sin from my lips! O trefpafs, fweetly urg'd! Give me my fin again.

Jul. You kifs by th' book.

Nurfe. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother?

Nurfe. Marry, batchelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,

[To her Nurje.

And a good lady, and a wife and virtuous.
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talkt withal:
I tell you, he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chink.

Rom. Is the a Capulet?

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, fo 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 fo? why, then, I thank you all.
I thank you, honeft Gentlemen, good night:
More torches here-come on, then let's to bed,
Ah, firrah, by my fay, it waxes late.

I'l to my Reft.

[Exeunt. Jul. Come hither, nurfe. What is yon gentleman ? Nurfe. The fon and heir of old Tiberio.

Jul.