All here was splendour and gaiety. Crowds of quaintly dressed figures wandered to and fro. Capulet himself, with his daughter Juliet and others of his house, received the guests, and gave them a hearty welcome. Then the music began, and the dancers grouped themselves for the stately and graceful measures of those days. Romeo was late in arriving, and the dancing had already begun when he entered the hall. He stood for a while looking on at the scene. His Rosaline, no doubt, was there, among other proud beauties of Verona, but to-night her sway was to be broken for ever. For there among the dancers was one who far surpassed her fellows, even as a snowy dove trooping with crows. In the dazzling radiance of her first youthful bloom, moved the daughter of the house, and when he saw this slender maiden with her peerless beauty, and her locks of shining gold, all lesser feelings melted out of Romeo’s heart, and he knew he had never really loved till now. Romeo’s half-uttered exclamations of rapture were overheard by a nephew of Lady Capulet’s, a fiery nobleman called Tybalt, always ready for brawls and quarrelling. “This, by his voice, should be a Montague,” he said, and immediately ordered his page to fetch his rapier. “How dares the slave come hither, covered with an antic face, to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the honour of my kin, I would hold it no sin to strike him dead.” “Why, how now, kinsman? Why do you storm so?” asked Capulet. “Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe--a villain who has come here in spite to scorn at our solemnity.” “Young Romeo, is it?” “It is he--that villain Romeo!” “Content you, gentle cousin, let him alone,” said Capulet. “He bears himself like a gallant gentleman, and to say truth, Verona boasts him to be a virtuous and well-governed youth. I would not for the wealth of all the town do him any wrong here in my house. Therefore be patient, take no notice of him--it is my will, and if you respect it, show an amiable face, and put off those frowns, which are not a pleasing expression at a feast.” “It fits when such a villain is a guest,” said Tybalt sullenly. “I’ll not endure him!” “He _shall_ be endured,” said Capulet sternly. “What, goodman boy! I say he _shall_; go to! Am I the master here, or you? Go to! _You’ll_ not endure him! _You’ll_ make a mutiny among my guests! _You’ll_ be the man!” “Why, uncle, it’s a shame,” persisted Tybalt. “Go to--go to!” cried the exasperated old man. “You are a saucy boy! Go! Be quiet, or----More light! More light!--I’ll make you quiet.” Burning with wrath against Romeo, and furious at the rebuke which his presumption had won from his uncle, Tybalt withdrew, silenced for the moment, but his heart filled with the bitterest spite, and determining to be revenged at the first opportunity for the humiliation he had suffered.