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Scene IV. `
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A street. `
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Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers; `
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Torchbearers. `
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Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? `
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Or shall we on without apology? `
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Ben. The date is out of such prolixity. `
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We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, `
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Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, `
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Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper; `
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Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke `
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After the prompter, for our entrance; `
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But, let them measure us by what they will, `
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We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. `
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Rom. Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. `
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Being but heavy, I will bear the light. `
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Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. `
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Rom. Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes `
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With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead `
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So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. `
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Mer. You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings `
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And soar with them above a common bound. `
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Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft `
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To soar with his light feathers; and so bound `
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I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. `
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Under love's heavy burthen do I sink. `
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Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burthen love- `
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Too great oppression for a tender thing. `
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Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, `
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Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn. `
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Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love. `
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Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. `
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Give me a case to put my visage in. `
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A visor for a visor! What care I `
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What curious eye doth quote deformities? `
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Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. `
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Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in `
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But every man betake him to his legs. `
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Rom. A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart `
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Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; `
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For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, `
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I'll be a candle-holder and look on; `
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The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. `
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Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word! `
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If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire `
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Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st `
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Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! `
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Rom. Nay, that's not so. `
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Mer. I mean, sir, in delay `
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We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. `
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Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits `
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Five times in that ere once in our five wits. `
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Rom. And we mean well, in going to this masque; `
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But 'tis no wit to go. `
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Mer. Why, may one ask? `
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Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. `
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Mer. And so did I. `
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Rom. Well, what was yours? `
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Mer. That dreamers often lie. `
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Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. `
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Mer. O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. `
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She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes `
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In shape no bigger than an agate stone `
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On the forefinger of an alderman, `
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Drawn with a team of little atomies `
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Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; `
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Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, `
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The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; `
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Her traces, of the smallest spider's web; `
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Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; `
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Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; `
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Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, `
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Not half so big as a round little worm `
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Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; `
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Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, `
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Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, `
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Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. `
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And in this state she 'gallops night by night `
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Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; `
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O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on cursies straight; `
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O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; `
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O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, `
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Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, `
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Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. `
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Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, `
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And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; `
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And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail `
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Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, `
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Then dreams he of another benefice. `
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Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, `
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And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, `
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Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, `
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Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon `
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Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, `
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And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two `
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And sleeps again. This is that very Mab `
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That plats the manes of horses in the night `
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And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs, `
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Which once untangled much misfortune bodes `
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This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, `
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That presses them and learns them first to bear, `
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Making them women of good carriage. `
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This is she- `
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Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! `
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Thou talk'st of nothing. `
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Mer. True, I talk of dreams; `
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Which are the children of an idle brain, `
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Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; `
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Which is as thin of substance as the air, `
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And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes `
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Even now the frozen bosom of the North `
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And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, `
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Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. `
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Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. `
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Supper is done, and we shall come too late. `
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Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives `
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Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, `
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Shall bitterly begin his fearful date `
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With this night's revels and expire the term `
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Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, `
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By some vile forfeit of untimely death. `
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But he that hath the steerage of my course `
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Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen! `
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Ben. Strike, drum. `
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They march about the stage. [Exeunt.] `
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Scene V. `
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Capulet's house. `
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Servingmen come forth with napkins. `
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1. Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? `
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He shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! `
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2. Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's `
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hands, `
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and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing. `
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1. Serv. Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cubbert, `
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look `
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to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane and, as `
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thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and `
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Nell. `
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Anthony, and Potpan! `
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2. Serv. Ay, boy, ready. `
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1. Serv. You are look'd for and call'd for, ask'd for and `
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sought `
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for, in the great chamber. `
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3. Serv. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys! `
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Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. Exeunt. `
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Enter the Maskers, Enter, [with Servants,] Capulet, his Wife, `
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Juliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests `
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and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. `
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Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes `
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Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you. `
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Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all `
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Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, `
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She I'll swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? `
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Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day `
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That I have worn a visor and could tell `
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A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, `
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Such as would please. 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone! `
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You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. `
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A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. `
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Music plays, and they dance. `
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More light, you knaves! and turn the tables up, `
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And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. `
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Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. `
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Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet, `
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For you and I are past our dancing days. `
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How long is't now since last yourself and I `
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Were in a mask? `
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2. Cap. By'r Lady, thirty years. `
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Cap. What, man? 'Tis not so much, 'tis not so much! `
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'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, `
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Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, `
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Some five-and-twenty years, and then we mask'd. `
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2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more! His son is elder, sir; `
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His son is thirty. `
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Cap. Will you tell me that? `
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His son was but a ward two years ago. `
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Rom. [to a Servingman] What lady's that, which doth enrich the `
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hand `
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Of yonder knight? `
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Serv. I know not, sir. `
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Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! `
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It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night `
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Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear- `
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Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! `
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So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows `
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As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. `
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The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand `
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