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By fome vile forfeit of untimely death.
[They march about the Stage, and Exeunt.
Changes to a Hall in Capulet's Houfe.
1 Serv. Where'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 men's 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, fave me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou loveft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grindone, and Nell. Anthony, and Potpar
2 Serv. Ay, boy, ready.
1 Serv. You are look'd for, call'd for, ask'd for, and fought for, in the great chamber.
2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.
Enter all the Guefts and Ladies, with the maskers.
Ladies, that have
1 Cap. Welcome, Gentlemen.
(4) Direct my fuit !] Guide the fequel of the adventure. Save me a piece of marcb-pane :] A confection made of Piftachio nuts, almonds, fugar, &c. and in high esteem in Shakespeare's time; as appears from the account of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment in Cambridge. 'Tis faid that the University prefented Sir William Cecyl, their Chancellor, with two pair of gloves, a march-pane, and two fugar loves. Peck's Defiderata Curiofa, vol. 2. P. 29. Dr. GRAY. Un
Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you.
Such as would please. 'Tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone! (5) You're welcome, Gentlemen. Come, musicians, play.
A ball, a ball. Make room. And foot it, girls.
2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.
1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not fo much, 'tis not so much;
"Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio,
Come Pentecoft as quickly as it will,
you tell me that?
1 Cap. Will
Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
Serv. I know not, Sir..
(5) You're quelcome, 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, cufin is probably the right word in both places. I know not how Capulet and his lady might agree, their ages were very difproportionate; he has been paft masking for thirty years, and her age, as he tells Juliet, is but eight and twenty.
Rom. O fhe doth teach the torches to burn bright;
The meafure done, I'll watch her place of Stand,
Tyb. This by his voice fhould be a Montague.
Cap. Why, how now, kinfman, wherefore ftom
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 gueft. I'll not endure hiin.
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,
Cap. Go to, go to,
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 ftand,
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 defpair. Jul. Saints do not move, yet grant for prayers' fake. Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I
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.
(7) If I prophane with my un- worthy band This boly fhrine, the gentle Sin is this;
My lips, tron blufhing pil rims, &c.] All profanations are fuppos'd to be expiated either by fome meritorious action, or by fome penance undergone and punishment fubmitted to. So, Romeo would here fay, If I have been profane in the rude touch of my hand, my lips ftand ready, as two blushing pilgrims, to take off that offence, to atone for it by a fweet penance. Our poet therefore must have wrote,
the gentle Fine is this.
Jul. You kifs by th' book.
Nurfe. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
[To her Nurfe.
Her mother is the lady of the houfe,
Rom. Is the a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Jul. Come hither, nurfe. What is yon gentleman ? Nurfe. The fon and heir of old Tiberia.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Jul. What's he, that follows here, that would not
Nurfe. I know not.
Jul. Go, afk his name.
Jul. My only love fprung from my only hate;
Nurfe. What's this? what's this? ful. A rhyme I learn'd e'en now Of one I danc'd withal.
[One calls within, Juliet."
Nurfe. Anon, anon
Come, let's away, the ftrangers are all gone. [Exeunt.