Thou talk’st of nothing.


MERCUTIO.

True, I talk of dreams,

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,

Which is as thin of substance as the air,

And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes

Even now the frozen bosom of the north,

And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence,

Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.


BENVOLIO.

This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves:

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.


ROMEO.

I fear too early: for my mind misgives

Some consequence yet hanging in the stars,

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night’s revels; and expire the term

Of a despised life, clos’d in my breast

By some vile forfeit of untimely death.

But he that hath the steerage of my course

Direct my suit. On, lusty gentlemen!


BENVOLIO.

Strike, drum.


 [Exeunt.]
SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet’s House.
 Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.
FIRST SERVANT.

Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away?

He shift a trencher! He scrape a trencher!
SECOND SERVANT.

When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s

hands, and they unwash’d too, ’tis a foul thing.
FIRST SERVANT.

Away with the join-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.

Antony and Potpan!
SECOND SERVANT.

Ay, boy, ready.
FIRST SERVANT.

You are looked for and called for, asked for

and sought for, in the great chamber.
SECOND SERVANT.

We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys.

Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
 [Exeunt.]
 Enter Capulet, &c. with

the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.
CAPULET.

Welcome, gentlemen, ladies that have their toes

Unplagu’d with corns will have a bout with you.

Ah 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?