up

I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady- And then my husband - God be with his soul! bird!'A was a merry man took the child: "Yea," quoth he, "dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit:

God forbid !—where's this girl? what, Juliet!

Enter JULIET.

Jul. How now; who calls?

Nurse.

Your mother.

Jul.

Madam, I am here.

What is your will?

Lady C. This is the matter:

leave awhile;

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, Nurse, give I never should forget it: "Wilt thou not, Jule?" quoth he:

We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said “

again;

I have remembered 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.
Lady C. She's not fourteen.

Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth

And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but A parlous knock: and it cried bitterly.

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.
"T is since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was weaned — 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 in the sun under the dovehouse wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua:
Nay, I do bear a brain:-but, as I said,
When I did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug.
"Shake," quoth the dovehouse: 't was no need,
I trow,

"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 that 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 nursed:
An I might live to see thee married once,

For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, As all the world-why, he's a man of wax.

She could have run and waddled all about.

For even the day before, she broke her brow:

Lady C. Verona's summer hath not such a

flower.

Searing the ladies like a crowkeeper;

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
flower.
Lady C. What say you? can you love the Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke

gentleman?

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 married lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscured 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 't is much pride
For fair without the fair within to hide :
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasp locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

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 am-
bling:

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 soles: I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.

Mer. You are a lover: borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
Rom. I am too sore empiercéd with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,

Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:

Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love: Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with

[Exeunt.

Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;
For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase,-

SCENE IV.. A Street.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or

six Maskers, Torchbearers, and others.

I'll be a candle-holder, and look on; –
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's
own word:

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our If thou art dun, we 'll draw thee from the mire

excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity.

We'll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,

Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Mer.

-

I mean, sir, in delay

2nd Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

1st Serv. You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. 2nd Serv. We cannot be here and there too. -cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind. Enter CAPULET, &c., with the Guests and the Maskers.

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn
bright!

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shews a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shews.

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.

Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

their toes Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you :Ah, ha, my mistresses! which of all you Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she

I'll swear hath corns : - am I come near you now?
You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the
day

That I have worn a vizor, and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,

Such as would please :- 't is gone, 't is gone, 't is

gone.

You are welcome, gentlemen! - Come, musicians, To scorn at our solemnity this night.

1st Cup. Young Romeo is 't?
Tyb.

'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
1st Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him
alone;

He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-governed youth:
I would not, for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house do him disparagement:
Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
It is my will; the which if thou respect,

1st Cap. What, man! 't is not so much, 't is Shew a fair presence, and put off these frowns,

Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the You will set a cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

I'll make you quiet-what!-Cheerly, my O dear account! my life is my foes' debt.

Which mannerly devotion shews in this; For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in

prayer.

Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do:

They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to de

spair.

Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
1st Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be

gone:

We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all:
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:—
More torches here! - Come on, then let's to bed.
Ah, sirrah [to 2nd CAP.], by my fay, it waxes
late;

I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse.
Jul. Come hither, nurse: what is yon gentle-

man?

Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that I think be young Petruchio.
Jul. What's he that follows there, that would
not dance?

Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go, ask his name: if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for Prodigious birth of love it is to me,