Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love:
Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn.
Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

Give me a case to put my visage in :

[Putting on a mask.

A visor for a visor !-what care I,

What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in,
But every man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; 9
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase—
I'll be a candle-holder and look on-

The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse,10 the constable's own word :

If thou art dun, we 'll draw thee from the mire

Of this save reverence love, wherein thou stick'st

Up to the ears.-Come, we burn daylight, ho.11
Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Mer.
I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.

Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer.

Why, may one ask? Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

Mer.

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer.

And so did I.

That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you.12

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider's web; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film ; Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love : O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream— Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice: Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts, and wakes ; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night;

And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,

Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag-

Rom.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!

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 woos
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,

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,

By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail!-On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V-A Hall in CAPULET'S House.

Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.

First Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

Second 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 courtcupboard,13 look to the plate :-good thou, save me a piece of

marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan !

Second Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

First Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

Second Serv. We cannot be here and there too.-Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.

[They retire behind.

Enter CAPULET, &c., with the Guests, and the Maskers.
Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies, that have their toes
Unplagued with corns, will have 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

gone, 'tis gone:

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please ;—'tis gone, 'tis
You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians, play.
A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls.

More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up,
[Music plays, and they dance.
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?

Second Cap.

By'r lady, thirty years.

First 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.

Second Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir ;

His son is thirty.

First 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?

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 shews a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shews.

14

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.

First 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.
First Cap. Young Romeo is 't?

Tyb.

'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

First 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,