Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 5

Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher! He scrape a trencher!

Where's Potpan, that he isn't helping to clear the dishes? Him move a plate! Him scrape a plate!

When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s hands, and they unwash’d too, ’tis a foul thing.

When all the good manners are left in the hands of one or two men, and unwashed hands at that, it's a disgusting business.

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!

Take away the folding stools, move the sideboard, watch the silver. Be a good fellow and save me a piece of marzipan; and if you love me, tell the porter to let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony and Potpan!

Ay, boy, ready.

Yes, boy, here we are.

You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber.

You're being looked for and called for, asked for and hunted for, in the great hall.

We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys. Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

We can't be here and there at the same time. Cheer up, boys. Be quick for a little while, and whoever lives longest gets everything.

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? Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day That I have worn a visor, and could tell 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. A hall, a hall, give room! And foot it, girls.

Welcome, gentlemen! The ladies whose toes aren't troubled with corns will take a turn at dancing with you. Ah, my ladies, which of you will refuse to dance now? Any one of you who acts too delicate, I'll swear she has corns. Have I hit the mark now? Welcome, gentlemen! I've seen the day when I wore a mask and could whisper a charming story in a pretty lady's ear, the kind that would please her. That's over, that's over, that's over. You're welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. Clear the floor, clear the floor, make room! And dance, girls.

More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, 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 Were in a mask?

More light, you rascals; and fold the tables up, and put out the fire, the room has grown too hot. Ah, my friend, this unexpected entertainment comes at just the right time. No, sit down, sit down, good cousin Capulet, because you and I are past our dancing days. How long is it now since you and I last wore masks?

By’r Lady, thirty years.

By our Lady, thirty years.

What, man, ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much: ’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask’d.

What, man, it isn't that long, it isn't that long. It was at Lucentio's wedding — whenever Pentecost comes round, it will be about twenty-five years. That's when we wore masks.

’Tis more, ’tis more, his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty.

It's more than that, it's more; his son is older than that, sir. His son is thirty.

Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago.

Are you telling me that? His son was still a minor two years ago.

What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

Who is that lady who makes that knight over there richer just by holding his hand?

I know not, sir.

I don't know, sir.

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows 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. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.

Oh, she teaches the torches how to burn brightly! She seems to hang against the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an African's ear — beauty too precious to be used, too valuable for this earth! She stands out among the others there like a snow-white dove in a flock of crows. When the dance is finished, I'll see where she stands, and by touching her hand I'll make my own rough hand blessed. Did my heart ever love before now? Deny it, my eyes! Because I never saw true beauty until tonight.

This by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave Come hither, cover’d with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

Judging by his voice, this must be a Montague. Bring me my sword, boy. What, does the wretch dare to come here with a grotesque mask on his face, to sneer and jeer at our celebration? Now, by the family line and honour of my kin, I don't consider it a sin to strike him dead.

Why how now, kinsman! Wherefore storm you so?

Why, what's this, nephew! Why are you raging like this?

Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night.

Uncle, this is a Montague, our enemy; a scoundrel who has come here out of spite, to mock our celebration tonight.

Young Romeo, is it?

Is it young Romeo?

’Tis he, that villain Romeo.

It's him, that scoundrel Romeo.

Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, A bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth. I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement. Therefore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will; the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Calm yourself, good cousin, leave him alone. He behaves like a well-mannered gentleman; and to tell the truth, Verona boasts of him as a decent, well-behaved young man. I wouldn't insult him here in my house for all the wealth in this town. So be patient, pay no attention to him. That is my will, and if you respect it, look pleasant and get rid of these frowns — an expression that doesn't suit a feast.

It fits when such a villain is a guest: I’ll not endure him.

It suits it well when such a scoundrel is a guest. I won't put up with him.

He shall be endur’d. What, goodman boy! I say he shall, go to; Am I the master here, or you? Go to. You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul, You’ll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop, you’ll be the man!

He shall be put up with. What, you little upstart! I say he shall, that's enough. Am I the master here, or are you? That's enough. You won't put up with him! God help my soul, you'll start a riot among my guests! You'll turn everything upside down, you'll be the big man!

Why, uncle, ’tis a shame.

But, uncle, it's a disgrace.

Go to, go to! You are a saucy boy. Is’t so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. You must contrary me! Marry, ’tis time. Well said, my hearts!—You are a princox; go: Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame! I’ll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts.

Enough, enough! You're an insolent boy. Is that so, really? This behaviour may end up harming you, I know what I'm saying. You have to cross me! Good heavens, it's about time.—Well done, my friends!—You're a cocky youngster; go. Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—Shame on you! I'll make you quiet.—Come on, cheer up, my friends.

Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

Forced patience meeting stubborn anger makes my body shake as the two clash inside me. I'll go: but this intrusion, which seems sweet now, will turn into bitter poison.

[To Juliet.] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

[To Juliet.] If I dishonour this holy shrine with my unworthy hand, the sin is a gentle one: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, are ready to smooth away that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

Good pilgrim, you do your hand too much injustice, since what it shows is proper devotion. Saints have hands that pilgrims' hands may touch, and palm pressed to palm is the holy pilgrims' kiss.

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Don't saints have lips, and holy pilgrims too?

Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Yes, pilgrim, lips that they must use for praying.

O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: they are praying, so grant what they ask, or my faith will turn to despair.

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

Saints don't move, even when they grant a prayer.

Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg’d. [Kissing her.]

Then don't move while I take what my prayer has won. In this way the sin on my lips is washed away by yours. [He kisses her.]

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Then my lips now carry the sin they've taken.

Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d! Give me my sin again.

Sin from my lips? What a sweetly argued offence! Give me my sin back.

You kiss by the book.

You kiss exactly as the rule book says.

Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

Madam, your mother wants a word with you.

What is her mother?

Who is her mother?

Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. I nurs’d her daughter that you talk’d withal. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks.

Why, young man, her mother is the lady of the house, and a good lady, and a wise and virtuous one. I nursed her daughter, the one you were talking with. Let me tell you, the man who can win her will get plenty of cash.

Is she a Capulet? O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt.

Is she a Capulet? Oh, what a costly reckoning! My life is owed to my enemy.

Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.

Come away, let's go; the fun is at its height.

Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

Yes, that's what I'm afraid of; which makes me all the more troubled.

Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone, We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Is it e’en so? Why then, I thank you all; I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late, I’ll to my rest.

No, gentlemen, don't get ready to leave; we have a little foolish refreshment coming. Is it really so? Well then, I thank you all; I thank you, worthy gentlemen; good night. More torches here! Come along then, let's go to bed. Ah, my friend, by my faith, it's getting late. I'll go to my rest.

Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman?

Come here, Nurse. Who is that gentleman over there?

The son and heir of old Tiberio.

The son and heir of old Tiberio.

What’s he that now is going out of door?

Who is the one going out of the door now?

Marry, that I think be young Petruchio.

Why, I think that's young Petruchio.

What’s he that follows here, that would not dance?

Who's the one following him, the one who wouldn't dance?

I know not.

I don't know.

Go ask his name. If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Go and ask his name. If he's married, my grave is likely to be my wedding bed.

His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy.

His name is Romeo, and he's a Montague, the only son of your great enemy.

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.

My only love has sprung from my only hate! I saw him too early without knowing him, and found out who he was too late! This is a monstrous birth of love for me, that I must love a hated enemy.

What’s this? What’s this?

What's this? What's this?

A rhyme I learn’d even now Of one I danc’d withal.

A rhyme I just learned from someone I danced with.

Anon, anon! Come let’s away, the strangers all are gone.

Coming, coming! Come, let's go, the guests have all left.