me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then she could ftand alone; nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before fhe broke her brow, and then my husband, (God be with his foul, a' was a merry man;) took up the child; yea, quoth he, doft thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not, Julé? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and faid, ay; To fee now, how a jeft fhall come about. I warrant, an' I should live a thousand years, I fhould not forget it: Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he? and, pretty fool, it ftinted, and faid, ay. La. Cap. Enough of this, I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurfe. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and fay, ay; and yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's ftone: a perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall'ft upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not, Fulé? it ftinted, and faid, ay. ful. And tint thee too, I pray thee, nurfe, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his grace! Thou waft the prettieft Babe, that e'er I nurst. An' I might live to fee thee married once, I have my wish. La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theam I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How ftands your difpofition to be married? Jut. It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurfe. An honour? were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadst fuck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers. By my count, That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; The The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. man? This Night you shall behold him at our Feaft; And fee, how one another lends Content: The fish lives in the Sea, and 'tis much pride, Nurfe. No lefs? Nay, bigger; Women grow by Men. Than your confent gives ftrength to make it fly. Ser. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurfe curft in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I muft hence to wait; I befeech you, follow strait. La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays. Nurfe. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE, a Street before Capulet's bouse. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums. Rom. WH WHAT, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe? Or fhall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity. Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing fhoes With nimble foles; I have a foul of lead, So ftakes me to the ground, I cannot move. Mer. You are a Lover; borrow Cupid's Wings, And foar with them above a common Bound. Rom. I am too fore enpearced with his Shaft, To foar with his light Feathers: and fo bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull Woe: Under Love's heavy burthen do I fink. Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you burthen Love : Too great Oppreffion for a tender Thing! Rom. Is Love a tender Thing It is too rough, Too rude, too boift'rous; and it pricks like Thorn. Mer. If Love be rough with you, be rough with Love; Prick Love for pricking, and you beat Love down. A Vilor for a Vifor! [Pulling off his Mask. what care I, What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here Here are the beetle-brows fhall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no fooner in, But ev'ry man betake him to his legs. Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the fenfelefs rufhes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandfire-phrase; I'll be be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was ne'er fo fair, and I am done. . Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the conftable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire ; Or, fave your reverence, Love, wherein thou ftickest Up to thine ears: come, we burn day-light, ho. Rom. Nay, that's not fo. Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day. Mer. Why, may one ask? Rom. I dreamt a dream to night. Rom. Well; what was yours? Mer. That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed afleep; while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then I fee, Queen Mab hath been with you. (4) (4) 0, then 1 fee, Queen Mab hath been with you: She She is the Fairies' Midwife.] Thus begins that admirable Speech upon the Effects of the Imagination in Dreams. But, Queen Mab the Faries' Midwife? What is the then Queen of? Why, the Fairies. What! and their Midwife too? Sure, this is a wonderful Condefcenfion in her Royal Highness. But this is not the greatest of the Abfurdities. Let us see upon what Occafion the is introduced, and under what Quality. Why, as a Being that has great Power over human Imaginations. But then, according to the Laws of common Senfe, if he has any Title given her, must not that Title have refe sence She is the Fancy's mid-wife, and she comes Her waggon-fpokes made of long spinners' legs; rence to the Employment she is put upon? First, then, she is called Queen: which is very pertinent; for that designs her Power: Then fhe is called the Fairies' Midwife; but what has that to do with the Point in hand. If we would think that Shakespeare wrote Senfe, we must fay, he wrote the Fancy's Midwife: and this is a Title the most à propos in the World, as it introduces all that is faid afterwards of her Vagaries. Befides, it exactly quadrates with thefe Lines: I talk of Dreams; Which are the Children of an Idle Brain, Begot of nothing but vain Fantafie. Thefe Dreams are begot upon Fantasie, and Mab is the Midwife to bring them forth. And Fancy's Midwife is a Phrafe altogether in the Manner of our Author, Mr. Warburton. And |