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!

Benvolio.
Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.]



Scene V. A Hall in Capulet's House.

[Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.]

1 Servant.
Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away?
he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

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

1 Servant.
Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look