“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.
In the meanwhile the dance was ended, and Romeo had been able to approach Juliet. In his rôle of a pilgrim he carried on with her a half-jesting conversation which barely veiled the deep devotion he was already beginning to feel; and, according to the customs of those days, he was even permitted to salute the lady with a courteous kiss.
Their conversation was interrupted by Juliet’s nurse, who came to summon Juliet to her mother, and then Romeo learnt for the first time that the young girl who had so enchanted him was the daughter of the house, a Capulet, the child of his foe.
And a few minutes later, Juliet, also making eager inquiry about the young guest in the guise of a pilgrim, heard that his name was Romeo, a Montague, the only son of the great enemy of her father’s house.