Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world;
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,

10 Ere we may think ber ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
The earth bath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,

Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparell’d April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,

30 And like her most whose merit most shall be: + Such, amongst view of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me. [To Serv., giring a paper.] Go, sirrah,

trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay,

[Ereunt Capulet and Paris. Serv. Find them out whose names are written here! It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pen. cil, and the painter with his uets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned.-In good time.

Ben. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,

One pain is lessened by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;

One desperate grief cures with another's languish: Take thou some new infection to thy eye,



And the rank poison of the old will die.

Rom. Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.
Ben. For what, I pray thee?

For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is;
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented and-God-den, good fellow.

Sero. God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read ?
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

60 Sero. Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I pray, can you read anything you see?

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
Sero. 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 Vi. truvio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutjo 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: whither should they come?

Serr. Up.
Rom. Whither?
Serr. To supper; to our house.
Rom., Whose house?
Sero. My master's.

80 Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.

Serr. 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. Rest you merry!

[Hxit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's, Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,

90 Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye

Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
And these, who often drown'd could never die,

Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

Ben. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself poised with herself in either eye:


But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid
That I will show you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. (E.reunt.

SCENE III. A room in Capulet's house.

Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.
La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call hier forth to

Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady-bird!
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

Jul. How now! who calls?

Your mother.

Madam, I am here, What is your will?

La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret:-nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

10 Nurse. Faith, I can iell 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 is not fourteen. How long is it 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.
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 weand, -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 dove-house wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua:-
Nay, I do bear a brain :--but, as I said,

When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple 30
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
“Shake quoth the dove-house: '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;
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband-God be with his soul!
A’ was a merry man-look up the child:

“Yea,” quoth he, “dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule?" and, by my holidame,
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 should forget it: “Wilt thou not, Jule?" quoth he;
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 choose but laugh, 50
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 cockerel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
“Yea," quoth my husband, “fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest 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!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: 60
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, danghter 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 would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than

you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

70 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.

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 nigbt 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 margent 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, 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 consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up,
you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to
wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
La. Cap. We follow thee. [Erit Servant.] Juliet, the

county stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.


SCENE IV. A street,
Enter Romeo, MERCUTIO, Benvolio, with five or six Mask-

ers, 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 hoodwink'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:

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