_Cap._ Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes[326] Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you:[327] 15 Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all[328] Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?[329] Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day[330] That I have worn a visor, and could tell 20 A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play.[331][332] A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.[331][333] [_Music plays, and they dance._ More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,[334] 25 And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. 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 30 Were in a mask?[335] _Sec. Cap._ By'r lady, thirty years.[336] _Cap._ What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,[337] Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. 35 _Sec. Cap._ 'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty.[338] _Cap._ Will you tell me that?[339] His son was but a ward two years ago.[340] _Rom._ [_To a Servingman_] What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? 40 _Serv._ I know not, sir.[341] _Rom._ O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night[342] Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;[343] Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 45 So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,[344] 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.[345] Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 50 For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.[346] _Tyb._ This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave[347] Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,[348] To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? 55 Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.[349] _Cap._ Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?[350] _Tyb._ Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; A villain, that is hither come in spite, 60 To scorn at our solemnity this night. _Cap._ Young Romeo is it?[351] _Tyb._ 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.