LITMIR.BIZ

      Romeo. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft

      To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,

      I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe.

      Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

      Mercutio. If love be rough with you, be rough with love;

      Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

      Give me a case to put my visage in. [Putting on a mask.]

      A visard for a visard! what care I

      What curious eye doth quote deformities?

      Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.

      Romeo. A torch for me. let wantons, light of heart,

      Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;

      For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;

      I'll be a candle-holder and look on;

      The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

      Mercutio. Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word.

      If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire

      Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st

      Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho.

      Mercutio. I mean, sir, in delay

      We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.

      Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits

      Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

      Mercutio. O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.

      She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes

      In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

      On the fore-finger of an alderman,

      Drawn with a team of little atomies A

      thwart men's noses as they lie asleep.

      Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;

      The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;

      The traces, of the smallest spider's web;

      The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams;

      Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film;

      Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,

      Not half so big as a round little worm

      Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid.

      Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,

      Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,

      Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.

      And in this state she gallops night by night.

      Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;

      O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight;

      O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees;

      O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,

      Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,

      Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.

      Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,

      And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;

      And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,

      Tickling a parson's nose as a lies asleep,

      Then dreams he of another benefice.

      Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,

      And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,

      Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,

      Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon

      Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes;

      And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,

      And sleeps again. This is that very Mab

      That plats the manes of horses in the night;

      And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,

      Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.

      This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,

      That presses them, and learns them first to bear,

      Making them women of good carriage.

      This is she.

      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 face to the dew-dropping south.

      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 sail! On, lusty gentlemen!

      Servant.

Скачать книгу