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Because their breathes with sweet meats tainted are :
Sometimes she gallops ore a lawers lap,
And then dreames he of smelling out a fute,
And sometime comes she with a tithe pigs taile,
Tickling a parson's nose that lies asleepe,
And then dreames he of another benefice :
Sometimes the gallops ore a souldiers nose,
And then dreames he of cutting forraine throats,
Of breaches ambuscados, countermines,
Of healthes fiue fadome deepe, and then anon
Drums in his eare : at which he startes and wakes,
And sweares a praier or two and sleepes againe.
This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backes,
And proues them women of good cariage.
This is the verie Mab that plats the manes of horses in the night,
And plats the Elfelocks in foule fluttish haire,
Which once vatangled much misfortune breedes.
Rom. Peace, peace, thou talkst of nothing.
Mer. True I talke of dreames,
Which are the children of an idle braine,
Begot of nothing but vaine fantasie,
Which is as thinne a substance as the aire,
And more inconstant than the winde,
Which wooes euen now the frosē bowels of the north,
And being angred puffes away in haste,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
Ben. Comë, come, this winde doth blow vs from ourselues,
Supper is done and we shall come too late.
Ro. I feare too earlie, for my minde misgiues
Some consequence is hanging in the stars,
Which bitterly begins his fearefull date
With this nights reuels, and expiers the terme
Of a dispised life, clofde in this breast,
By fome votimelie forfet of vile death.
But he that hath the steerage of my course
Directs my faile, on luftie gentlemen.
Enter old Capulet with the ladies.
Capu. Welcome gentlemen, welcome gentlemen,
Ladies that haue their toes vnplagud with corns
Will haue about with you, ah ha my mistresses,
all will now refuse to dance ?
Shee that makes daintie, thee Ile sweare hath corns.
Am I come neere you now, welcome gentlemen, welcome,
More lights you knaues, and turn these tables vp,
And quench the fire the roome is growne too hote.
Ah sirra, this vnlookt for sport comes well,
Nay fit, nay fit, good cofen Capulet :
For you and I are past our standing dayes,
How long is it since you and I were in a maske?
Cof. By ladie sir tis thirtie yeares at least.
Cap. Tis not so much, tis not so much.
Tis fince the mariage of Lucentio,
Come Pentecost as quicklie as it will,
Some fiue and twentie yeares, and then we maskt.
Cof. Tis more, tis more, his sonne is elder far.
Cap. Will you tell me that it cannot be fo,
His sonne was but a ward three yeares agoe,
Good youths I faith.' Oh youth's a jolly thing.
Rom. What ladie is that that doth inrich the hand
Of yonder knight? O fee doth teach the torches to burne bright!
It seemes she hangs upon the cheeke of night,
Like a rich iewell in an Aethiops eare,
Beautie too rich for vse, for earth too deare :
So shines a snow-white swan trouping with crowes,
As this fair ladie ouer her fellowes showes.
The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand,
And touching hers, make happie my rude hand.
Did my heart youe till now ? Forsweare it sight,
I neuer saw true beautie till this night.
Tib. This by his voice should be a Mountague,
Fetch me my rapier boy. What dares the Naue
Come hither couer'd with an anticke face,
To scorne and jeere at our solemnitie ?
Now by the stocke and honor of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it for no sin.
Ca. Why how now cosen, wherefore storm you so.
Ti. Vncle this is a Mountague our foe,
A villaine that is hether come in spight,
To mocke at our solemnitie this night.
Ca. Young Romeo is it not?
Ti. It is that villaine Romeo.
Ga. Let him alone, he beares him like a portly gentleman,
And to speake truth, Verona brags of him,
As of a vertuous and well gouern'd youth :
I would not for the wealth of all this towne,
Here in my house doo him disparagement:
Therefore be quiet take no note of him,
Beare a faire presence, and put off these frownes,
An ill beseeming semblance for a feast.
Ti. It fits when such a villaine is a guest,
Ile not indure him.
Ca. He shal be indured, goe to I say, he shall,
Am I the master of the house or you?
You'le not indure him? God shall mend
foule You'le make a mutenie amongst my guests, You'le fet cocke a hoope, you'le be the man.
Ti. Vncle tis a shame.
Ca. Goe too, you are a faucie knaue.
This tricke will scath you one day I know what.
Well said my hartes : be quiet:
More light ye knaue, or I will make you quiet.
Tibalt. Patience perforce with wilfull choller meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greetings :
I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall.
Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthie hand,
This holie shrine, the gentle sinne is this :
My lips two blushing pilgrims ready stand,
To smooth the rough touch with a gentle kisse.
luli. Good pilgrime you doe wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly deuotion Thewes in this :
For faints haue hands which holy palmers touch,
And palme to palme is holy palmers kisse.
Rom. Haue not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Iuli. Yes pilgrime lips that they must vse in praier.
Ro. Why then faire faint, let lips do what hands doo,
They pray, yeeld thou, least faith turne to despaire.
lu. Saints doe not mooue though: grant nor praier forsake.
Ro. Then mooue not till my praiers effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours my fin is purgde.
Tu. Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke.
Ro. Sinne from my lips, O trespasse sweetly vrgde !
Giue me my finne againe.
lu. You kisse by the booke.
Nurse. Madame your mother calles.
Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse. Marrie batcheler her mother is the ladie of the house, and a good lady, and a wise, and a vertuous. I nurst her daughter that you talkt withall, I tell you, he that can lay hold of her shall haue the chinkes.
Rom. Is she a Mountague ? Oh deare account, My life is my foes thrall.
Ca. Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling foolish banquet towards.
They whisper in his eare.
I pray you let me intreat you. Is it so ?
Well then I thanke you honest gentlemen,
I promise you but for your compauy,
I would haue bin a bed an houre agoe :
Light to my chamber hoe.
lul. Nurse, what is yonder gentleman ?
Nur. The sonne and heire of old Tiberio.
Iul. Whats he that now is going out of dore ?
Nur. That as I thinke is yong Petruchio.
Iul. Whats he that followes there that would not dance ?
Nur, I know not.
lul Goe learne his name, if he be maried, My graue is like to be my wedding bed.
Nur. His name is Romeo and a Mountague, the onely sonne of your great enemie.
Iul. My onely loue sprung from my onely hate,
Too early seene vnknowne, and knowne too late :
Prodigious birth of loue is this to me,
That I should loue a loathed enemie.
Nurse. Whats this? whats that?
Iul. Nothing nurse but a rime I learnt euen now of one I dancst with.
Nurse. Come your mother staies for you, Ile goe along with you.
Ro. Shall I goe forward and my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth and finde thy center out.
Ben. Romeo, my cosen Romeo.
Mer. Doeft thou heare he is wise,
Ypon my life he hath stolne him home to bed.