Romeo and Juliet
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- Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away?
- He shift a trencher? He scrape a trencher!
- When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too,'tis a foul thing.
- Away with the joint-stools, remove the court cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane, and, as though loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
- What lady is that which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?
- I know not, sir.
- 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 blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Foreswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
- Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear, Beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear.
- 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.
- This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch my rapier, boy.
- Anthony and Potpan!
- You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber.
- Ay, boy, ready.
- We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys.Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
- Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite To scorn at our solemnity this night.
- Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so?
- Young Romeo is it?
- 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 the 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.
- 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
- It fits when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him.
- 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 a cock-a-hoop. You'll be the man!
- Why, Uncle, 'tis a shame.
- Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes Ah, my mistresses! Which of you all Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you.
- Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She, i'll swear, hath corns. Am I come near ye now?
- 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone. You are welcome gentlemen. Come, musicians, play.
- 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.
- Go to, go to. You are a saucy boy. Is't so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. Marry, 'tis time.
- You are a princox, go. Be quiet, or-
- -For shame! I'll make you quiet.-
- -What, cheerly, my hearts!
- -More light, more light!-
- Well said, my hearts!-
- 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.
- Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes well.
- A hall, a hall, give room! And foot it, girls. More light, you knaves! And turn the tables up, And quench the fire. The room is grown too hot.
- 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?
- By'r Lady, thirty years.
- Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago.
- What, man, 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much. 'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, some five and twenty years, and then we masked.
- 'Tis more, 'tis more. His son is elder, sir. His son is thirty.
- 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.
- 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.
- Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
- O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
- Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
- Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
- Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
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