That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she—
Rom. Peace, peace! Mercutio, peace! 96
Thou talk'st of nothing.
Mer. 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, 100
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 104
Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from our selves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
Rom. I fear too early; for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars 108
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. 112
But he, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt.]
Scene Five
[A Hall in Capulet's House]
[Musicians waiting.] Enter Servant[s].
First Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps
99 vain: empty
104 dew-dropping: misty
109 date: duration
110 expire . . . of: bring to an end
115 Exeunt; cf. n.
