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Changes to a Hall in Capulet's House.
Enter Servants, with Napkins...
'HERE's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher! he
fcrape a trencher!
2 Serv. When good manners fhall lie all in one or two mens' hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing.
1 Serv. Away with the joint-ftools, remove the court cup board, look to the plate; good thou, faye me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou loveft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony, and Potpan
2 Serv. Ay, boy, ready.
1 Serv. You are look'd for, call'd for, afk'd for, and fought for, in the great chamber.
2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be brifk a while, and the longer liver take all. [Exeunt.
Enter all the Guefts and Ladies, with the mafkers.
1 Cap. Welcome, Gentlemen. Ladies, that have your feet.
Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please. 'Tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone! 5 You're welcome,Gentlemen. Come, muficians, play. A ball, a ball. Make room. And foot it, girls. [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, fit, good coufin Capulet, For you and I are past our dancing days: How long is't now fince last yourself 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,
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?
Serv. 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 Ethiop's ear: Beauty too rich for ufe, for earth too dear!
5 You're welcome, Gentlemen.] Thefe two lines, omitted by the modern editors, I have replaced
from the folio,
good coufin Capulet.] This coufin Copulet is unkle in the paper of invitation, but as Capulet is defcribed as old, coufin is pro
bably the right word in both places. I know not how Capulet and his lady might agree, their ages were very difproportionate; he has been pait masking for thirty years, and her age, as he tells Juliet, is but eight and twenty.
So fhews a fnowy dove trooping with crows,
Tyb. This by his voice fhould be a Montague.
Cap. Why, how now, kinfinan, wherefore storm you fo?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe:
Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
Tyb. It fits, when fuch a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him.
Cap. He fhall be endur❜d.
What, goodman boy-I fay, he fhall. Go to-
You'll not endure him? God fhall mend my foul.
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a fhame.
You are a faucy boy-is't fo, indeed-
Tyb. Patience perforce, with wilful choler meeting,
This holy fhrine, the gentle Fine is this; My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, To fmooth that rough Touch with a tender kifs. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion fhews in this;
For Saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
They pray, grant thou, left faith turn to despair.
If I prophane with my un-
This holy fhrine, the gentle Sin
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, &c.] All profanations are fuppos'd to be expiated either by fome meritorious action, or by fome penance undergone and pu
nishment fubmitted to. So, Romeo would here fay, If I have been profane in the rude touch. of my hand, my lips ftands ready, as two blufhing pilgrims, to take off that offence, to atone for it by a sweet penance. Our poet therefore must have wrote, -the gentle Fine is this. WARB.
Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers' fake,
Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take:
Thus from my lips, by thine, my fin is purg'd.
Jul. Then have my lips the fin that late they took. Rom. Sin from my lips! O trefpafs, fweetly urg'd! Give me my fin again.
Jul. You kifs by th' book.
Nurfe. Madam, your mother craves a word with
To her Nurfe.
Rom. What is her mother?
Nurfe. Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
Rom. Is fhe a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
[Exeunt. Jul. Come hither, nurfe. What is yon gentle
Nurfe. The fon and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?