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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;
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, the constable's own word:
If thou art dun, we 'll draw thee from the mire
Of this, sir reverence, love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears.—Come, we burn daylight, ho.

Rom. Nay, that 's not so.
MER.

I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, lights, lights, 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 't is no wit to go.
MER.

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

And so did I.
Rom. Well, what was yours?

That dreamers often lie. Rou. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true.

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,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces of the smallest spider's web;
Her collars of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film:
Her waggoner a small gray-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:

MER.

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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:
On 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;
Wbich oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's pose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:
And sometime 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 ears; 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, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she-

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,
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 Horse.

Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.

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

2 SERV. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 't is a foul thing.

1 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 Grindstone, and Nell. —Antony! and Potpan!

2 SERV. Ay, boy; ready.

1 SERV. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 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

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A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please; 't is gone, 't is gone, 't is 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 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 ?

2 CAP. By ’r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap. What, man! 't is not so much, 't is not so much: ”T is since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will

, Some five-and-twenty years; and then we mask'd.

2 Cap. 'T is more, 't is more: his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty.

1 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!
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a spowy 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 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.

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1 CAP. Why, how pow, kinsman ? wherefore storm you so ?

TYB. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is bither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

1 CAP. Young Romeo is 't?
TYB.

'T is he, that villain Romeo. 1 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 the 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 pot endure him.
1 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, 't is a shame.
1 CAP.

Go to, go to,
You are a saucy boy:-Is 't so indeed?
This trick may chance to scath you;-I know what.
You must contrary me!-marry, 't is 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.

[Ex'it. Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand [TO JULIET. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To nooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

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