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

Enter JULIET. Jul. How now, who calls ? Nurse. Your mother. Fut. Mađam, I amí here ; what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter :-Nurse, give leave awhile,

359
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

С

Susan

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 wornwood to mý dug,
Sitting i' the sun under the dove-house wall, 380
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.
Shake, quoth the dove-louse : '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.

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For even the day before, she broke her brow :
And then my husband-God be with his soul !
'A was a nierry man ;-took up the child ;
Yia, 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,

I never

he:

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

400 And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said--- Ay. La. Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy

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

laughi, 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, fallist upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age;. Wilt thou not, Jule ? it stinted, and said-Ay. 410

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse,

Say I.

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 lionour 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 yoll,

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.

Nurse. A man, young lady ! lady, such a man,
As all the world Why, he's a man of wax. 429

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.

Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger ; women grow by

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men.

La. Cap. Speak, briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: 4.50

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.

SCENE IV.

460

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A Street, 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,
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.
Ron. Give me a torch, -I am not for this
ambling;
Ciij

Being

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