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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 unwafh'd too, 'tis a foul thing.
1 Serv. Away with the joint-ftools, remove the court cup board, look to the plate; good thou, fave 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 you.
Will now deny to dance? fhe that makes dainty,
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please. 'Tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone!
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,
Some five and twenty years, and then we mafk'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his fon is elder, Sir: His fon is thirty.
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.
6 good coufin Capulet.] This coufin Capulet 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 disproportionate; he has been pat mafk ing for thirty years, and her age, as he tells Juliet, is but eight and twenty.
So fhews a fnowy dove trooping with crows,
The measure done, I'll watch her place of Stand,
Tyb. This by his voice fhould be a Montague.
Now by the stock and honour of my kin,
Cap. Why, how now, kinfinan, wherefore ftorm 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.
Cap. He fhall be endur❜d.
What, goodman boy-I fay, he fhall. Go to
You'll not endure him? God fhall mend my
You will fit cock-a-hoop? You'll be the man?
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a fhame.
Cap. Go to, go to,
You are a faucy boy-is't fo, indeed
This trick may chance to fcathe you. I know what.
Tyb. Patience perforce, with wilful choler meeting,
[To Juliet. This holy fhrine, the gentle Fine is this; My lips, two blufhing pilgrims, ready stand,
To smooth 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, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kifs.
Rom. Have not faints lips, and holy palmers too? Ful. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Rom. O then, dear faint, let lips do what hands
They pray, grant thou, left faith turn to despair.
7 If I prophane with my un-
My lips, two blufbing pilgrims, &c.] All profanations are fuppos'd to be expiated either by fome meritorious action, or by fome penance undergone and pu
nifhment 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.
Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers'
Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I
Thus from my lips, by thine, my fin is purg'd.
[Kiffing ber. 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
Rom. What is her mother?
Nurfe. Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
To her Nurse.
And a good lady, and a wife and virtuous.
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talkt withal:
Rom. Is fhe a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Is it e'en fo? why, then, I thank you all.
I'll to my Reft.
[Exeunt. Jul. Come hither, nurfe. What is yon gentle
Nurse. The fon and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Jul. What's he, that follows here, that would not