A hall in Capulet’s house. Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins.
First Servant
Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He
shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!
Second Servant
When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s
hands and they unwashed too, ’tis a foul thing.
First Servant
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!
Second Servant
Ay, boy, ready.
First Servant
You are looked for and called for, asked for and
sought for, in the great chamber.
Second Servant
We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
Enter Capulet, with Juliet and others of his house, meeting the Guests and Maskers.
Capulet
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
A whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear,
Such as would please: ’tis gone, ’tis gone, ’tis 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, you 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?
Second Capulet
By’r lady, thirty years.
Capulet
What, man! ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much:
’Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask’d.
Second Capulet
’Tis more, ’tis more, his son is elder, sir;
His son is thirty.
Capulet
Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago.
Romeo, to a Servingman
What lady is that, which doth
enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
Servant
I know not, sir.
Romeo
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy 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.
Tybalt
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.
Capulet
Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?
Tybalt
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
Capulet
Young Romeo is it?
Tybalt
’Tis he, that villain Romeo.
Capulet
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,
And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
Tybalt
It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
I’ll not endure him.
Capulet
He shall be endured:
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!
Tybalt
Why, uncle, ’tis a shame.
Capulet
Go to, go to;
You are a saucy boy: is’t so, indeed?
This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
You must contrary me! marry, ’tis 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!
Tybalt
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.
Exit.
Romeo, to Juliet
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.
Romeo
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Juliet
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Juliet
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.
Romeo
Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
Juliet
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Romeo
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.
Juliet
You kiss by the book.
Nurse
Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Romeo
What is her mother?
Nurse
Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
I nursed her daughter, that you talk’d withal;
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
Shall have the chinks.
Romeo
Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe’s debt.
Benvolio
Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
Romeo
Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
Capulet
Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it e’en so? why, then, I thank you all
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed.
Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
I’ll to my rest.
Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.
Juliet
Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
Nurse
The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Juliet
What’s he that now is going out of door?
Nurse
Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.
Juliet
What’s he that follows there, that would not dance?
Nurse
I know not.
Juliet
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.
Juliet
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.
Nurse
What’s this? what’s this?
Juliet
A rhyme I learn’d even now
Of one I danced withal.
One calls within “Juliet.”
Nurse
Anon, anon!
Come, let’s away; the strangers all are gone.