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Because their breathes with fweet meats tainted are:
Sometimes fhe gallops ore a lawers lap,

And then dreames he of fmelling out a fute,
And sometime comes fhe with a tithe pigs taile,
Tickling a parfon's nose that lies asleepe,
And then dreames he of another benefice:
Sometimes the gallops ore a fouldiers nofe,
And then dreames he of cutting forraine throats,
Of breaches ambufcados, countermines,

Of healthes fiue fadome deepe, and then anon
Drums in his eare: at which he startes and wakes,

And fweares a praier or two and fleepes 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 vntangled much misfortune breedes.

Rom. Peace, peace, thou talkft 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 frofe bowels of the north,

And being angred puffes away in haste,

Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.

Ben. Come, come, this winde doth blow vs from ouríelues,

Supper is done and we shall come too late.

Ro. I feare too earlie, for my minde mifgiues
Some confequence is hanging in the stars,
Which bitterly begins his fearefull date
With this nights reuels, and expiers the terme
Of a difpifed life, clofde in this breast,

By fome vntimelie forfet of vile death.




But he that hath the fteerage 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,
Which of you all will now refufe to dance?
Shee that makes daintie, thee Ile fweare hath corns.
Am I come neere you now, welcome gentlemen, welcome,
More lights you knaues, and turn thefe tables vp,

And quench the fire the roome is growne too hote.
Ah firra, this vnlookt for fport comes well,
Nay fit, nay fit, good cofen Capulet:
For you and I are paft our standing dayes,
How long is it fince you and I were in a maske ?
Cof. By ladie fir tis thirtie yeares at least.
Cap. Tis not fo much, tis not fo much.
Tis fince the mariage of Lucentio,

Come Pentecoft as quicklie as it will,

Some fiue and twentie yeares, and then we maskt.
Cof. Tis more, tis more, his fonne is elder far.
Cap. Will you tell me that it cannot be fo,

His fonne was but a ward three yeares agoe,

Good youths I faith. Oh youth's a iolly thing.

Rom. What ladie is that that doth inrich the hand

Of yonder knight? O fhee doth teach the torches to burne bright! It feemes fhe hangs upon the cheeke of night,

Like a rich iewell in an Aethiops eare,

Beautie too rich for vfe, for earth too deare:
So fhines a fnow-white fwan trouping with crowes,
As this fair ladie ouer her fellowes showes.
The measure done, Ile watch her place of ftand,
And touching hers, make happie my rude hand.

Did my heart oue till now? Forfweare it fight,
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 flaue
Come hither couer'd with an anticke face,
To fcorne and ieere at our folemnitie ?
Now by the stocke and honor of my kin,
To ftrike him dead I hold it for no fin.

Ca. Why how now cofen, wherefore storm you so.
Ti. Vncle this is a Mountague our foe,
A villaine that is hether come in spight,
To mocke at our folemnitie this night.
Ca. Young Romeo is it not?

Ti. It is that villaine Romeo.

Ca. Let him alone, he beares him like a portly gentleman, And to fpeake 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 houfe doo him difparagement: Therefore be quiet take no note of him, Beare a faire prefence, and put off these frownes, An ill befeeming femblance for a feaft.

Ti. It fits when fuch a villaine is a guest,

Ile not indure him.

Ca. He fhal be indured, goe to I fay, he fhall, Am I the master of the house or you ?

You'le not indure him? God fhall mend my foule

You'le make a mutenie amongst my guests,

You'le fet cocke a hoope, you'le be the man.

Ti. Vncle tis a fhame.

Ca. Goe too, you are a faucie knaue.

This tricke will feath you one day I know what.
Well faid my hartes: be quiet:

More light ye knaue, or I will make you quiet.

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Tibalt. Patience perforce with wilfull choller meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greetings:
I will withdraw, but this intrufion fhall

Now feeming fweet, conuert to bitter gall.

Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthie hand,
This holie shrine, the gentle finne is this:
My lips two blufhing pilgrims ready stand,
To fmooth the rough touch with a gentle kisse.

Juli. Good pilgrime you doe wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly deuotion fhewes in this :

For faints haue hands which holy palmers touch,

And palme to palme is holy palmers kisse.

Rom. Haue not faints 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, leaft faith turne to defpaire. Iu. Saints doe not mooue though: grant nor praier forfake. Ro. Then mooue not till my praiers effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours my fin is purgde.

Iu. Then haue my lips the fin that they haue tooke. Ro. Sinne from my lips, O trefpaffe fweetly vrgde ! Giue me my finne againe.

Iu. You kiffe by the booke.

Nurfe. Madame your mother calles.

Rom. What is her mother?

Nurfe. Marrie batcheler her mother is the ladie of the house, and a good lady, and a wife, and a vertuous.

I nurft

her daughter that you talkt withall, I tell you, he that can lay hold of her fhall haue the chinkes.

Rom. Is he 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 fo?
Well then I thanke you honeft gentlemen,
I promife you but for your compauy,
I would haue bin a bed an houre agoe:
Light to my chamber hoe.

Iul. Nurse, what is yonder gentleman ?
Nur. The fonne 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 fonne

of your great enemie.

Iul. My onely loue fprung from my onely hate, Too early feene vnknowne, and knowne too late : Prodigious birth of loue is this to me,

That I fhould loue a loathed enemie.

Nurfe. Whats this? whats that?

Iul. Nothing nurse but a rime I learnt euen now of one I dancft with.

Nurfe. Come your mother ftaies for you, Ile goe along with



Enter Romeo alone.

Ro. Shall I goe forward and my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth and finde thy center out.

Enter Benuolio Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my cofen Romeo.

Mer. Doeft thou heare he is wife,

Vpon my life he hath ftolne him home to bed.

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