Mer. Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. Why, may one ask? Mer. O, then, 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-finger of an alderman, Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Thou talk'st of nothing. 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, With this night's revels; and expire the term SCENE V.—A Hall in Capulet's House. [Exeunt. Enter CAPULET, &c. with the Guests, and the Maskers. A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, [Music plays, and they dance. Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? Serv. I know not, sir. Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague: To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. Cap. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore storm you so ? A villain, that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night. Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest ; I'll not endure him. Сар. He shall be endur'd; Am I the master here, or you? go to. Be quiet, cousin, or-I'll make you quiet. Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this, Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, For 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. Rom. Thus, then, dear saint, let lips put up their prayer. [Sa Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. [lutes her. Rom. What is her mother? Nurse. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, Rom. [Exeunt all but JULIET, and Nurse. Jul. Come hither, nurse; What is yon gentleman ? 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? 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! Nurse. What's this? What's this? Jul. Of one I danc'd withal. Nurse. A rhyme I learn'd even now Anon, anon: [One calls within, JULIET, [Exeunt Come, let's away: the strangers all are gone. ACT II. Romeo, struck with the beauty and character of Juliet, forgets his "Rosaline." He disengages himself from Mercutio and Benvolio, and enters Capulet's garden, to seek an interview with Juliet. SCENE II.-Capulet's Garden. Enter ROMEO. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. [JULIET appears above, at a window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek! Jul. Rom. Ah me! She speaks: Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? ¡Aside. What's in a name? that which we call a rose, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Rom. I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth 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 My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? 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'er-perch these walls. For stony limits cannot hold love out; And what love can do, that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here: By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; 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, For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. |