SCENE III.

A Room in CAPULET's House. Enter Lady CAPULET, and Nurse.

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

Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head,-at twelve year

old,

I bade her come.—What, lamb! what, lady-bird !— God forbid !--where's this girl ?—what, Juliet !

Jul. Madam, I am here; what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile,

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We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age.

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

Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,—

And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, She's not fourteen: How long is't now to Lammas

tide?

La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days.

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year,

Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. 370

Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls !-
Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me: But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,-
Of all the days of the year, upon that day :
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting i' the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua :—
Nay, 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 see it teachy, and fall out with the dug.

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Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,

To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years:

For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband-God be with his soul!
'A was a merry man ;-took up the child;
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said—Ay:
To see now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

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I never

I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth

he:

And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay.

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La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy

peace.

Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot chuse but laugh,

To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:
And, yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
A par❜lous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-Ay.
Jul. And stint thou too,
Say I.

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I pray thee, nurse,

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his

grace!

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd;
An I might live to see thee married once,

I have my wish.

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of :-Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?

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

Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. 421 La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now: younger

than you,

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

Cij

Are

Are made already mothers: by my count,

I was your mother much upon these years

That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief;— The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

429

Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax. La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gen

tleman ?

This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every several lineament,

And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin 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's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

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Nurse. No less? 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: 450

But

But no more deep will I endart mine eye,

Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you follow straight. La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.

A Street.

SCENE IV.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO,

with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others.

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our

excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity;

We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,

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Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;

Nor no 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 ne a torch, I am not for this

ambling;

Ciij

Being