Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is : Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and fellow. Good-e'en, good Serv. God gi' good e'en. I pray, sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow: I can read. [Reads. Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair assembly; [gives back the Note.] Whither should they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. 9 Rest you merry. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; 9 [Exit. crush a cup of wine.] This cant expression seems to have been once common among low people. We still stay, in cant language to crack a bottle. With all the admired beauties of Verona : One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd That I will show you, shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well, that now shows best. [Exeunt. 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, old, at twelve year I bade her come. - What, lamb! what, lady-bird ! — God forbid !-where's this girl? - what, Juliet ! Enter JULIET. Jul. How now, who calls? Your lady's love-] Your lady's love is the love you bear to your lady. I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen 2 be it spoken, I have but four, She is not fourteen. To Lammas-tide? La. Cap. How long is it now A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan and she, God rest all Christian souls! Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge. -- 3 Nay, I do bear a brain:] That is, I have a perfect remembrance or recollection. And since that time it is eleven years: For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, For even the day before, she broke her brow: -- I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth he: And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said- Ay. Ay: La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurse. Yes, madam; yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone; A parlous 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 Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Ay. Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs❜d: 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. 4 it stinted,] i. e. it stopped, it forbore from weeping. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief;- 5 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 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, 6 And see how one another lends content; That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men. But no more deep will I endart mine eye, 5 wax. 6 a man of wax.] Well made, as if he had been modelled in the margin of his eyes.] The comments on ancient books were always printed in the margin. 7 The fish lives in the sea; &c.] i, e. is not yet caught. |