« PředchozíPokračovat »
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
bling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you
dance. Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead, So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound.
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink. 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 boist'rous; 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
deformities? Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.
eye doth quote
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
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
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;
Why, may one ask?
And so did I.
That dreamers often lie.
true. Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
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; •Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are. Sometime 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: Sometime 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;
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 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
sail!-On, lusty gentlemen. Ben. Strike, drum.
A HALL IN CAPULET'S HOUSE.
Enter Servants. i 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 unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing
1 Sero. 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 Sero. Ay, boy; ready.
1 Sero. You are look'd for, and callid for, ask'd for, and sought for, in the great chamber.
2 Sero. 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. i Cap. Gentlemen, welcome! ladies, that have
their toes Unplagu'd 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,