456Rom. What shall this speeh be spoke for our excuse?

457Or shall we on without Apologie?

458Ben. The date is out of such prolixitie,

459Weele haue no Cupid, hood winkt with a skarfe,

460Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath,

461Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.

462But let them measure vs by what they will,

463Weele measure them a Measure, and be gone.

464Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling.

465Being but heauy I will beare the light.

466Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance.

467Rom. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes

468With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead

469So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue.

470Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings,

471And soare with them aboue a common bound.

472Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft,

473To soare with his light feathers, and to bound:

474I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe,

475Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke.

476Hora. And to sinke in it should you burthen loue,

477Too great oppression for a tender thing.

478Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough,

479Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne.

480Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue,

481Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,

482Giue me a Case to put my visage in,

483A Visor for a Visor, what care I

484What curious eye doth quote deformities:

485Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me.

486Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in,

487But euery man betake him to his legs.

488Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart

489Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles:

490For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase,

491Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on,

492The game was nere so faire, and I am done.

The Tragedie Romeo and Juliet.57

493Mer. Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word,

494If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire.

495Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest

496Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho.

497Rom. Nay that's not so.

498Mer. I meane sir I delay,

499We wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day;

500Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits

501Fiue times in that, ere once in our fine wits.

502Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske,

503But 'tis no wit to go.

504Mer. Why may one aske?

505Rom. I dreampt a dreame to night.

506Mer. And so did I.

507Rom. Well what was yours?

508Mer. That dreamers often lye.

509Ro. In bed a sleepe while they do dreame things true.

510Mer. O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you:

511She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no big-

512ger then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman,

513drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer mens noses as

514they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spin-

515ners legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her

516Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her coullers of the

517Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone,

518the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated

519Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt

520from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie

521Haselnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time

522out a mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this state she

523gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and then

524they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on

525Cursies strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreamt on

526Fees, ore Ladies lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which

527oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their

528breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gal-

529lops ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of smelling

530out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tick-

531ling a Parsons nose as a lies asleepe, then he dreames of

532another Benefice. Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers

533necke, & then dreames he of cutting Forraine throats, of

534Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of Healths fiue

535Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which

536he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a

537prayer or two & sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that

538plats the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elk-

539locks in foule sluttish haires, which once vntangled, much

540misfortune bodes,

541This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs,

542That presses them, and learnes them first to beare,

543Making them women of good carriage:

544This is she.

545Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,

546Thou talk'st of nothing.

547Mer. True, I talke of dreames:

548Which are the children of an idle braine,

549Begot of nothing, but vaine phantasie,

550Which is as thin of substance as the ayre,

551And more inconstant then the wind, who wooes

552Euen now the frozen bosome of the North:

553And being anger'd, puffes away from thence,

554Turning his side to the dew dropping South.

555Ben. This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues,

556Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

557Rom. I feare too early, for my mind misgiues,

558Some consequence yet hanging in the starres,

559Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date

560With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme

561Of a despised life clos'd in my brest:

562By some vile forfeit of vntimely death.

563But he that hath the stirrage of my course,

564Direct my sute: on lustie Gentlemen.

565Ben. Strike Drum.