Mer. Give me a cafe to put my visage in,
A vifor for a vifor : what care I

What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows fhall blush for me.

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the fenfelefs rushes with their heels;

For I am proverb'd with a grand-fire phrafe ;
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
I dreamt a dream to-night.

Mer. And fo did I.

Rom. Well; what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lie.

Rom. -In bed afleep; while they do dream things true.
Mer. O then I fee Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fancy's mid-wife, and fhe comes

Ia fhape no bigger than an agat-ftone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart mens nofes as they lye afleep:
Her waggon-fpokes made of long spinners legs;
The cover, of the wings of grafhoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lafh, of film;
Her waggoner a fmall grey-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm,
Prickt from the lazy finger of a maid.
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,

and look on,

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

Mer. Tat, dun's the moute, the conftable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire ;

Or, fave your revarence, love, wherein thou stickeft

Up to the ears: come, we burn day-light, ho.

Ron. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer. I mean, Sir, we delay.

We burn our lights by night, like lamps by day. [Ed. 1.]
Take our good meaning, for our judgment fits

Five times a day, ere once in her right wits. [Ed. I.]
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;

But 'tis no wit to go.

M. Why? may one ask?

Rom. I dreamt a dream, .

Made

Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies coach-makers:
And in this ftate fhe gallops night by night,
Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love :
O'er courtiers knees, that dream on curtfies ftrait $
O'er lawyers fingers, who ftrait dream on fees:
O'er ladies lips, who ftrait on kiffes dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with fweet-meats tainted are.
Sometimes the gallops o'er a lawyer's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit:
And fometimes comes fhe with a tith-pig's tail,
Tickling a parfon as he lyes afleep;
Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes the driveth o'er a foldier'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 ftarts 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 fluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lye on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This, this is fhe

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.

Bent. This wind you talk of blows us from our felvés;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom

Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives,
Some confequence, ftill 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 ftage, and Exeunt. SCENE VI. A Hall in Capulet's House. Enter Servants with napkins.

1 Ser. Where's Porpan, that he helps not to take away? be shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

2 Ser. When good manners fhall lye 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,-Anthony, and Potpan! 2 Ser. Ay, boy, ready.

I Ser. You are look'd for, call'd for, afk'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 Guests and Ladies with the maskers.
I Cap. Gentlemen, welcome. Ladies that have your feet
Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you.
Ah me, my miftreffes, which of you all

Will now deny to dance? fhe that makes dainty
I'll fwear hath corns; am I come near ye now?
Welcome all, gentlemen; I've seen the day
That I have worn a vifor, and could tell
A whifpering tale in a fair Lady's ear,

Such as would pleafe: 'tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone!
[Mufick plays, and they dance.
More light, ye knaves, and turn the tables up;
And quench the fire, the room grown too hot.
Ah, Sirrah, this unlook'd-for fport comes well.

Nay

Nay fit, nay fit, good coufin Capulet,
For you and I are paft our dancing days:
How long is't now fince laft your felf and I
Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By'r Lady, thirty years.

1 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 fon 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, fhe doth teach the torches to burn bright;
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Athiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for ufe, for earth too dear!
So fhows a fnowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder Lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of ftand,
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 Mountague.
Fetch me my rapier, boy: what! dares the lave
Come hither cover'd with an antick face,

To fleer and fcorn at our folemnity?

Now by the ftock and honour of my kin,

To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin,

Cap. Why, how now, kinfman, wherefore ftorm you fo Tyb. Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe:

A villain that is hither come in spight,

To fcorn 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

And to lay 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 houfe do him difparagement.
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 of a feast,

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

Cap. He fhall be endur'd. *

Be quiet, or (more light, 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 intrusion shall,
Now feeming fweet, convert to bitter gall.

Rom. If I prophane with my unworthy hand [To Juliet,
This holy fhrine, the gentle fine be this,

My lips two blufhing pilgrims ready stand,

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

For faints 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 use in prayer,
Rom. O then, dear faint, let lips do what hands do,
They pray; grant thou, left faith turn to defpair. †

He fhall be endur'd.

What, goodman-boy

I fay he fhall. Go to
Am I the master 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 fhame.

Cap. Go to, go to,

You are a faucy boy

is't fo indeed ?

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

Be quiet, &c.

t-turn to despair.

Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers fake.
Rem. Then move not while my prayers effect I take

Thus

1