Rom. When the devout Religion of mine Eye
Maintains fuch Falfehood, then turn Tears to Fire;
And these who often drown'd could never die,
Transparent Hereticks be burnt for Liars.
One fairer than my Love! the all-feeing Sun
Ne'er faw her Match, fince firft the World begun.

Ben. Tut, tut, you faw her fair, none elfe being by,
Her felf pois'd with her felf in either Eye:
But in thofe Chryftal Scales, let there be weigh'd,
Your Ladies love against fome other Maid,
That I will fhew you, fhining at this Feast,
And he'll fhew fcant well, that now fhews beft.
Rom. I'll go along, no fuch fight to be fhewn,
But to rejoice in fplendor of mine own.

SCENE II. Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.

La. Cap. Nurfe, where's my Daughter? call her forth

to me.

Nurfe. Now by my Maiden-head, at twelve Years old, I bad 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 inatter-Nurfe, give leave a while, we must talk in Secret. Nurfe come back again, I have remembred me, thouf hear my Counfel: Thou knoweft 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 Teeth 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 Lam. mas-Eve at Night fhall he be fourteen. Susan and the, God eft all Chriftian Souls, were of an Age. Well Sufan is with

God,

God, fhe was too good for me, But as I faid, on LammasEve at Night fhall he be fourteen, that shall 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 DoveHouse Wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua-nay, I do bear a Brain. But as I faid, when it did tafte the Wormwood 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 trudge; and fince that time it is eleven Years, for then the could ftand alone, nay, byth' Rood she could have run, and wadled all about; for even the Day before the broke her Brow, and then my Husband, God be his Soul, 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, Juliet? And by my Holy-dam, the pretty Wretch left Crying, and faid, Ay; to fee now how a Jeft fhall come about. I warrant, and I fhould live a thousand Years, I never fhould forget it: Wilt thou not, Juliet, 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 should leave crying, and fay, Ay; and yet I warrant it had upon its Brow a bump as big as a young Cockrels Stone: 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, Juliet ? It stinted, and said, Ay.

Ful. And ftint thee too, I pray thee, Nurfe, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his Grace, thou waft the prettieft Babe that e'er I nurft, and I might live to fee thee married once, I have my wish.

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very Theam -
I came to talk of; tell me, Daughter Juliet,
How ftands your diffofition to be married?

ful. 'Tis an hour that I dream not of

Nurfe. An hour, were not I thine only Nurfe, I would fay that thou hadft fuck'd Wisdom from thy Teat.

La. Cap.

La. Cap. Well, think of Marriage now; younger than you
Here in Verona, Ladies of Efteem,
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 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 Summer hath not fuch a Flower.
Nurfe. Nay he's a Flower, in faith a very Flower.
La. Cap. What fay you, can you love the Gentleman ?
This Night you shall behold him at our Feast,
Read o'er the Volume of young Paris's Face,
And find Delight writ there with Beauty's Pen;
Examine every feveral Lineament,

And fee how one, another lends Content;
And what obfcur'd in this fair Volume lyes,
Find written in the Margent of his Eyes.
This precious Book of Love, this unbound Lover,
To beautifie 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 manies Eyes doth fhare the Glory,
That in Gold Clafps locks in the golden Story;
So fhall you share 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 endart mine Eye,
Than your Confent gives Strength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. Madam, the Guefts are come, Supper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young Lady ask'd for, the Nurfe curft in the Pantry, and every thing in extremity; I muft hence to wait, I befeech you follow ftraight.

[Exit.

La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays.
Nurfe. Go, Girl, feek happy Nights to happy Days.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other Maskers, Torch-bearers.

Rom. What, fhall this Speech be fpoke to our excuse?
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.
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 Soles, I have a Sole 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 impierced with his Shaft,
To four with his light Feathers, and to bound:
I cannot bound a pitch above dull Woe;
Under Love's heavy burden do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you burden Love, Too great oppreffion for a tender thing.

Rom. Is Love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, it pricks like Thorn.

Mer. If Love be rough with you, be rough with Love,
Prick Love for pricking, and you Love beat down:
Give me a Cafe to put my Vifage in,

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 fooner in,
But every Man betake him to his Legs.

Rom. A Torch for me, let Wantons, light of Heart,
Tickle the fenfelefs Rufhes with their Heels ;
For I am proverb'd with a Grand-fire Phrafe;
I'll be a Candle-lighter, and look on,

The Game was ne'er fo fair, and I am Done.

Of

Mer. Tut, Dun's the Moufe, the Conftables own word; If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the Mire;

Or, fave your Reverence, Love, wherein thou stickest
Up to the Ears: Come, we burn day-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer. I mean, Sir, we delay.

We wafte our Lights in vain, lights, lights, by day;
Take our good meaning, for our Judgment fits
Five things in that, e'er 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 asleep; while they do dream things true¡ Mer. O then I fee Queen Mab hath been with you: She is the Fairies Mid-wife, and fhe comes in shape no bigger than an Agat-ftone on the Fore-finger of an Alderman, drawn with a teem of little Atomies, over Mens Noses as they lye afleep: Her Waggon Spokes made of long Spinners Legs; the Cover, of the Wings of Grafhoppers; her Trace of the fmallest Spider's Web; her Collars of the Moonshine's watry beams; her Whip of Cricket's bone; the Lash of film; her Waggoner a small gray-coated Gnat, not half fo big as a round little Worm, prickt from the lazy Finger of a Woman. Her Chariot is an empty HazelNut, made by the Joyner Squirrel or old Grub, time out of mind, the Fairies Coach-makers: And in this ftate fhe gallops Night by Night, through Lovers Brains; and then they dream of Love. On Countries Knees, that dream on Curfies ftrait: O'er Lawyers Fingers, who ftrait dream on Fees: O'er Ladies Lips, who ftrait on Kiffes dream, which oft the angry Mab with Blifters plagues, because their Breaths with Sweet-meats tainted are. Sometimes the gallops o'er a Courtier's Nofe, and then dreams he of smelling out a Suit: And fometimes comes fhe with a Tith-pigs Tail, tickling a Parfon's Nofe as he lies afleep; then he dreams of another Benefice. Sometimes fhe driveth o'er a Soldier's Neck, and then dreams he of cutting Foreign Throats, of Breaches, Ambufcadoes, Spanish Blades; of Healths five Fathom deep; and then anon drums in his Ears, at which

he