Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
Not Peer Reviewed

Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)


Enter Seruant.
Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helpes not to take away?
570He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?
1. When good manners, shall lie in one or two mens
hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing.
Ser. Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Court-
cubbord, looke to the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece
575of Marchpane, and as thou louest me, let the Porter let in
Susan Grindstone, and Nell, Anthonie and Potpan.
2. I Boy readie.
Ser. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought
for, in the great Chamber.
5801 We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes,
Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all.
Exeunt.
Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the
Maskers.
5851. Capu. Welcome Gentlemen,
Ladies that haue their toes
Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you:
Ah my Mistresses, which of you all
Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty,
590She Ile sweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now?
Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the day
That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell
A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare:
Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone,
595You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play:
Musicke plaies: and the dance.
A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles,
More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp:
And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot.
600Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well:
Nay sit, nay sit, good Cozin Capulet,
For you and I are past our dauncing daies:
How long 'ist now since last your selfe and I
Were in a Maske?
6052. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares.
1. Capu. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much,
'Tis since the Nuptiall of Lucentio,
Come Pentycost as quickely as it will,
Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt.
6102. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir:
His Sonne is thirty.
3. Cap. Will you tell me that?
His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe.
Rom. What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand
615Of yonder Knight?
Ser. I know not sir.
Rom. O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright:
It seemes she hangs vpon the cheeke of night,
As a rich Iewel in an Æthiops eare:
620Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare:
So shewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes,
As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes;
The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand,
And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
625Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight,
For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night.
Tib. This by his voice, should be a Mountague.
Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slaue
Come hither couer'd with an antique face,
630To fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie?
Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Cap. Why how now kinsman,
Wherefore storme you so?
635Tib. Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe:
A Villaine that is hither come in spight,
To scorne at our Solemnitie this night.
Cap. Young Romeo is it?
Tib. 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo.
640Cap. Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone,
A beares him like a portly Gentleman:
And to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth:
I would not for the wealth of all the towne,
645Here in my house do him disparagement:
Therfore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will, the which if thou respect,
Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes,
An ill beseeming semblance for a Feast.
650Tib. It fits when such a Villaine is a guest,
Ile not endure him.
Cap. He shall be endu'rd.
What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too,
Am I the Maister here or you? go too,
655Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule,
Youle make a Mutinie among the Guests:
You will set cocke a hoope, youle be the man.
Tib. Why Vncle, 'tis a shame.
Cap. Go too, go too,
660You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed?
This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what,
You must contrary me, marry 'tis time.
Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe,
Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame,
665Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts.
Tib. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting:
I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall.
Exit.
670Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand,
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,
My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand,
To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse.
Iul. Good Pilgrime,
675You do wrong your hand too much.
Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this,
For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch,
And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kisse.
Rom. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?
680Iul. I Pilgrim, lips that they must vse in prayer.
Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do,
They pray (grant thou) least faith turne to dispaire.
Iul. Saints do not moue,
Though grant for prayers sake.
685Rom. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take:
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Iul. Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke.
Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd:
Giue me my sin againe.
690Iul. You kisse by'th'booke.
Nur. Madam your Mother craues a word with you.
Rom. What is her Mother?
Nurs. Marrie Batcheler,
Her Mother is the Lady of the house,
695And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous,
I Nur'st her Daughter that you talkt withall:
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her,
Shall haue the chincks.
Rom. Is she a Capulet?
700O deare account! My life is my foes debt.
Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
Rom. I so I feare, the more is my vnrest.
Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We haue a trifling foolish Banquet towards:
705Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all.
I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night:
More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed.
Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late,
Ile to my rest.
710Iuli. Come hither Nurse,
What is yond Gentleman:
Nur. The Sonne and Heire of old Tyberio.
Iuli. What's he that now is going out of doore?
Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio.
715Iul. What's he that follows here that would not dance?
Nur. I know not.
Iul. Go aske his name: if he be married,
My graue is like to be my wedded bed.
Nur. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
720The onely Sonne of your great Enemie.
Iul. My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate,
Too early seene, vnknowne, and knowne too late,
Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me,
That I must loue a loathed Enemie.
725Nur. What's this? whats this?
Iul. A rime, I learne euen now
Of one I dan'st withall.
One cals within, Iuliet.
Nur. Anon, anon:
730Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.
Exeunt.