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SCENE changes to Capulet's House.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.

La. Cap.TURSE, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.


Nurf Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve Years old) I bade her come; what, lamb,-what, lady-bird, God forbid! where's this girl? what, Juliet?

Enter Juliet.

Jul. How now, who calls?
Nurfe. Your mother.

Jul. Madam, I am here, what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter Nurfe, give leave a while, we must talk in fecret; Nurse, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel : thou know'ft, my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurfe. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurfe. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet to my teen be it spoken, I have but four;) fhe's not fourteen; how long is it now to Lammas-tide?

La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days.

Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the year, come Lammas eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Sufan and fhe (God reft all chriftian fouls!) were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God, fhe was too good for me. But as I faid, on Lammas-eve at night fhall fhe be fourteen, that fhall fhe, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and fhe was wean'd; I never fhall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon that day; for I had then laid worm-wood to my dug, fitting in the Sun under the Dove-house wall, my lord and you were then at Mantuanay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, when it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to fee it teachy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the Dove-house 'twas no need, I trow, to bid


me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then the could stand alone; nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before. The 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 should 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


Nurse. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to think it fhould 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, Julé? it ftinted, and faid, ay.

Jul. And ftint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his grace!

Thou waft the prettiest Babe, that e'er I nurst.
An' I might live to see 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?

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurfe. An honour ? were not I thine only nurse, I'd fay, thou hadft 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,
I was your mother much upon thefe years
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;


The valiant Paris feeks you for his love.

Nurfe. A man, young lady, lady, fuch a man
As all the world- ---- -Why, he's a man of wax.

La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurfe. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What fay you, can you like the Gentle |

This Night you fhall behold him at our Feaft;
Read o'er the Volume of young Paris' Face,
And find Delight writ there with Beauty's pen;
Examine ev'ry fev'ral Lineament,

And fee, how one another lends Content:
And what obfcur'd in this fair Volume lies,
Find written in the Margent of his Eyes.
This precious book of Love, this unbound Lover,
To beautify him only lacks a Cover.

The fish lives in the Sea, and 'tis much pride,
For Fair without the Fair within to hide.
That Book in many Eyes doth fhare the Glory,
That in gold clafps locks in the golden Story.
So, fhall you fhare all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, making your felf no lefs.

Nurfe. No lefs? Nay, bigger; Women grow by Men.
La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move.
But no more deep will I indart mine eye,
Than your confent gives ftrength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse curft in! the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I muft hence to wait; I beseech you, follow strait.

La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays.
Nurfe. Go, girl, feek happy nights to happy days.



SCENE, a Street before Capulet's house.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums.

Rom. HAT, fhall this speech be spoke for our excufe?


Or fhall we on without apology?
Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid, hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper:
Nor a without-book prologue faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.
But let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling." Being but heavy, I will bear the Light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.' Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing shoes 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.

burthen Love :

Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you 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


Prick Love for pricking, and you beat Love down.
Give me a Cafe to put my visage in;

[Pulling off his Mask.

A Vifor for a Vifor! - what care I,
What curious eye doth quote deformities?


Here are the beetle-brows fhall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no foo ner in, But ev'ry man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the fenfeless 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 Ì

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 fticket 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.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment fits
Five times in That, ere once in our fine wits.
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask ;)
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one ask?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to night.

Mer. And fo did I.

Rom. Well; what was yours!

Mer.. That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed afleep; while they do dream things


Mer. O, then I fee, Queen Mab hath been with you. (4)


(4) 0, then I fee, Queen Mab hath been with you?

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 greateft of the Abfurdities. Let us fee upon what Occafion fhe 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

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