Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To fupper, to our house. Rom. Whofe house ? Serv. My mafter's. Rom. Indeed, I should have afkt you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the houfe of Montagues, I pray, come and crufh a cup of wine. Reft you merry. Ben. At this fame antient feaft of Capulet's {Exit. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye. But in thofe crystal scales, let there be weigh'd (3) ----------let there be weigh'd [Exeunt. Your Lady's Love againft fome other Maid] But the Comparison was not betwixt the Love that Romeo's Miftrefs paid him, and the Perfon of any other young Woman: but betwixt Romeo's Mistress herself, and fome other that fhould be matched against her. The Poet therefore muft certainly have wrote; Your Lady-love against fome other Maid. So the Comparison stands right, and fenfibly. SCENE SCENE, changes to Capulet's Houfe. Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse. La. Cap. Urfe, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurfe. 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. ful. Madam, I am here, what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter -Nurfe, give leave a while, we muft talk in fecret; Nurfe, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou fhalt hear our counsel: thou know'ft my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurfe. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. 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 the (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 shall the be fourteen, that fhall fhe, marry, I remember it well. "Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and she was wean'd; I ne ver 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 fun under the dove-houfe wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua- -nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did tafte 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-houfe- -'twas no need, I trow, to bid me me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then he could ftand 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 Jule? 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 fhould leave crying, and fay, ay; and yet, I wariant, 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 tinted, and said, ay. ful. And stint thee too, I pray thee, nurfe, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his grace! Thou waft the prettiest babe, that e'er I nurft. I have my with. La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theme 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 say, thou hadft fuck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you Here in Verona, ladies of efteem, Are made already mothers. By my count, That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; Nurfe 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. And fee, how one another lends content : The fish lives in the fea, and 'tis much pride, Nurfe. No lefs? Nay, bigger; women grow by men. Enter a Servant. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young lady afk'd for, the nurfe curft in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I muft hence to wait; I befeech you, follow ftrait. La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County stays. Nurfe. Go, girl, feek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt. SCENE, SCENE, a Street before Capulet's Houfe. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fixe other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums. Rom.Hat, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe? Or fhall we on without apology? W Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity. 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 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 so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe : Under love's heavy burden do I fink. Mer. And to fink in it, should you burden 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. Give me a cafe to put my vifage in; [Pulling off his mafk -what care I, doth quote deformities? Here |