Imatges de pÓgina
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I dreamt a dream to-night.

Mer. And so did I.
Rom. Well; what was yours?
Mer. That dreamers often lie.
Rom. - In bed anleep; while they do dream

things true.
Mer. O then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the *' fancy's' mid-wife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agat-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart mens noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners legs ;
The cover, of the wings of grashoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams ;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film ;
Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half lo big as a round little worm,
Prickt from the lazy finger of a maid.
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joyner squirrel or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies coach-makers:
And in this state she gallops night by night,
Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love:
O'er courtiers knees, that dream on curtsies strait :
O'er lawyers fingers, who strait dream on fees :

R 2

O'er
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire;
Or, save your reverence, love, wherein thou stickest
Up to the ears : come, we burn day-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.

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. 1.]

Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask ;
But 'cis no wit to go.

Mer. Why? may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt a dream, &C.
4 Fairies . . . old edit. Warb. emend.

O'er ladies lips, who strait on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are.
Sometimes she gallops o'er a lawyer's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:
And sometimes comes she with a tith-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson as he lyes asleep;
Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes the 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 Neeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And cakes the elf-locks in foul Nuttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lye on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
S'This, this is the

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 phantasie,
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more unconstant than the wind, who wooes
Ev'n 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 our selves ; Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives,
Some consequence, still hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With 5 This is the

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 suit ! On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[They march about the stage, and Exeunt.

s C E N E VI.

A Hall in Capulet's House.

Enter Servants with napkins. i Ser.

WHer

Here's Potpan, that he helps not to take away?

he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher ! 2 Ser. When good manners shall lye all in one or two mens hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Ser. Away with the joint-stools, remove the courtcup-board, look to the plate: good thou, save me a piece of march-pane; and as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell. Anthony, and Pot

pan!

2 Ser. Ay, boy, ready.

i Ser. You are look'd for, call'd for, ask'd for, and sought 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. (Excunt.

S CE N E VII. Enter all the Guests and Ladies with the maskers. i Cap. 6 Gentlemen, welcome.' Ladies that have

your feet

Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you.
Ah me, my mistreffes, which of you all
Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty

Q3

I'll

6 Welcome, Gentlemen,

19

I'll swear hath corns ; am I come near ye now?
Welcome all, gentlemen ; I've 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!

[Mufick 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 fit, nay sit, good cousin Capulet,
For you and I are past our dancing days :
How long is't now since last your self and I
Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By’r Lady, thirty years.

i Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much ; 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we mask'd.

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his son is elder, Sir: His son is thirty

i 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?

Ser. I know not, Sir.

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright;
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Æthiop's ear :
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a frowy 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 happy my rude hand.
Did my heart love ?till now? forswear it, fight ;
I never saw true beauty 'till this night.

Tyb. This by his voice should be a Mountague.
Ferch me my rapier, boy: what! dares the Nave
Come hither cover'd with an antick face,

Το

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.

Cap. Why, how now, kinsman, wherefore storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe:
A villain that is hither come in spight,
To scorn 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 to say 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 house do him disparagement.
Therefore be patient, take no note of him;
It is my will, the which if thou respect,
Shew a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseeming semblance of a feast.

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

Cap. He shall be endur'd. a
Be quiet, or (more light, more light, for shame)
l'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.
Q4

Rom.
(a) - He shall be endur'd.
What, goodman-boy I say he shall. Go to
Am I the matter here, or you? go to
You'll not endure him! Gód shall mend soul,
You'll make a mutiny among my guetts !
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

Cap. Go to, go to,
You are a saucy boy-is't so indeed ?
This trick may chance to scathe you ; I know what,
Be quiet, &C.

my

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