[SERVINGMEN come forth with napkins.] FIRST SERVINGMAN. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher? He scrape a trencher? SECOND SERVINGMAN. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Away with the joint stools, remove the court cupboard, look to the plate.—Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane, and, as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.—Anthony and Potpan! [Enter two more SERVINGMEN.] THIRD SERVINGMAN. Ay, boy, ready. FIRST SERVINGMAN. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. FOURTH SERVINGMAN. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys! Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. [They retire.] [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, JULIET, TYBALT, NURSE, and all the GUESTS and GENTLEWOMEN to the MASKERS.] CAPULET. Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you. Ah ha, my mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She, I'll swear, hath corns. Am I come near ye now? — Welcome, gentlemen! I have 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. — You are welcome, gentlemen.— Come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall, give room! — And foot it, girls. — [Music plays, and they dance.] More light, you knaves, and turn the tables up, And quench the fire; the room is grown too hot. — Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes well. — Nay, sit, nay, sit, good Cousin Capulet, For you and I are past our dancing days. How long is't now since last yourself and I Were in a mask? SECOND CAPULET. By'r Lady, thirty years. CAPULET. 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 masked. SECOND CAPULET. 'Tis more, 'tis more. His son is elder, sir. His son is thirty. CAPULET. Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. ROMEO. [to a SERVINGMAN] What lady is that which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? SERVINGMAN. I know not, sir. ROMEO. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy 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 blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT. This, by his voice, should be a Montague. — Fetch me my rapier, boy. — What, dares the slave Come hither, covered with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. CAPULET. Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? TYBALT. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite To scorn at our solemnity this night. CAPULET. Young Romeo, is it? TYBALT. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. CAPULET. 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-governed 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, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. TYBALT. It fits when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him. CAPULET. He shall be endured. What, goodman boy? I say he shall. Go to. Am I the master here or you? Go to. You'll not endure him? God shall mend my soul, You'll make a mutiny among my guests? You will set cock-a-hoop? You'll be the man? TYBALT. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. CAPULET. Go to, go to. You are a saucy boy. Is't so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. You must contrary me? Marry, 'tis time! — Well said, my hearts! — You are a princox, go. Be quiet, or — More light, more light! — For shame, I'll make you quiet. — What, cheerly, my hearts! TYBALT. Patience perforce with willful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw. But this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitterest gall. [Exit.] ROMEO. [to JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. JULIET. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this, For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. ROMEO. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? JULIET. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. ROMEO. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. JULIET. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. ROMEO. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. [He kisses her.] Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged. JULIET. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. ROMEO. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. [He kisses her again.] JULIET. You kiss by th' book. NURSE. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. [JULIET moves away.] ROMEO. What is her mother? NURSE. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. I nursed her daughter that you talked withal. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks. ROMEO. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! My life is my foe's debt. BENVOLIO. Away, begone. The sport is at the best. ROMEO. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. CAPULET. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone. We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. — Is it e'en so? Why then, I thank you all. I thank you, honest gentlemen. Good night. — More torches here! — Come on then, let's to bed. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late. I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and NURSE.] JULIET. Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman? NURSE. The son and heir of old Tiberio. JULIET. What's he that now is going out of door? NURSE. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. JULIET. What's he that follows here, that would not dance? NURSE. I know not. JULIET. Go ask his name.—If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. NURSE. His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy. JULIET. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathèd enemy. NURSE. What's this, what's this? JULIET. A rhyme I learned even now Of one I danced withal. [One calls within, "Juliet!"] NURSE. Anon, anon. Come, let's away. The strangers all are gone. [Exeunt.]