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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 wean'd,—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
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 ;—took 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 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,
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,

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 cockrel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?

it stinted,] i. e. It stopped, it forbore from weeping.-STEEVENS.

Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said—Ay.

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: [grace! 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, 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.

La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

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."

[you,

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,

And see how one another lends content;

And what obscur'd 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 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide ;

· a man of wax.] i. e. Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax. -S. W.

h

the margin of his eyes.] The comments on ancient books were always printed in the margin.-STEEVENS.

The fish lives in the sea; &c.] i. e. Is not yet caught. Fish-skin covers to books anciently were not uncommon.-STEEVENS.

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 every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the country stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

SCENE IV.

A Street.

[Exeunt.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, 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 hood-wink'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

golden story;] i. e. Any valuable writing.-M. MASON.

Mercutio,] Shakspeare appears to have formed this character on the following slight hint in the original story:-" Another gentleman, called Mercutio, which was a courtlike gentleman, very wel beloved of all men, and by reason of his pleasant and curteous behaviour, was in al companies wel entertained." Painter's Palace of Pleasure, tom. ii. p. 221.-STEEVENS.

The date is out of such prolixity:] Introductory speeches are out of date or fashion.

na Tartar's bow-] Resembles in its form the old Roman or Cupid's bow, such as we see on medals and bas reliefs. Shakspeare uses the epithet to distinguish it from the English bow, whose shape is the segment of a circle.— DOUCE.

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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,P-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 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 enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
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 boist'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 case to put my visage in: [Putting on a Mask. A visor for a visor! what care I,

What curious eye doth quote deformities?

Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in,

But every man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels ;"

For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,—
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,-

The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.3

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:

We'll measure them a measure,] i. e. We'll dance a dance.

P Give me a torch,] A torch-bearer seems to have been a constant appendage on every troop of masks, and was not reckoned a degrading office. STEEVENS. q quote-] i. e. Observe.

Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;] It has been already observed, that it was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes, before carpets were in use. STEEVENS.

I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,~

The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.] An allusion to an old proverbial saying, which advises to give over when the game is at the fairest.-RITSON.

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the miret
Of this (save reverence") love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears.-Come, we burn day-light, ho.

Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Mer.
I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning: for our judgment sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.*

Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer.
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

Why, may one ask?

Mer.

Rom. Well, what was yours?

Mer.

And so did I.

That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes

In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

- dun's the mouse, &c.] A proverbial saying of rather vague signification, alluding to the colour of the mouse, but frequently employed with no other intent than that of quibbling on the word done. Why it is attributed to a constable, I know not.-NARES. "Dun out of the mire," was the name of a game, at which Mr. Gifford remembers playing, and which he thus describes. "A log of wood is brought into the midst of the room: this is dun, (the carthorse,) and a cry is raised that he is stuck in the mire: two of the company advance, either with or without ropes, to draw him out. After repeated attempts, they find themselves unable to do it, and call for more assistance. The game continues till all the company take part in it, when dun is extricated of course; and the merriment arises from the awkward and affected efforts of the rustics to lift the log, and sundry arch contrivances to let the ends of it fall on one another's toes." Ben Jonson, vol. viii, p. 283.

u ———— save reverence-] An allusion to the good old custom of apologizing for the introduction of a free expression, by bowing to the principal person in company, and saying, Sir, with reverence, or, Sir, reverence.- -GIFFORD. Ben Jonson, vol. vi, p. 149.

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-five wits.] i. e. Five senses.

the fairies' midwife;] i. e. The midwife among the fairies, because it was her peculiar employment to steal the new-born babe in the night, and to leave another in its place. The poet here uses her general appellation, and character, which yet has so far a proper reference to the present train of fiction, as that her illusions were practised on persons in bed or asleep; for she not only haunted women in child-bed, but was likewise the incubus or nightmare. Shakspeare, by employing her here, alludes at large to her midnight pranks performed on sleepers: but denominates her from the most notorious one, of her personating the drowsy midwife, who was insensibly carried away into some distant water, and substituting a new birth in the bed or cradle. It would clear the appellation to read the fairy midwife. The poet avails himself of Mab's appropriate province, by giving her this nocturnal agency.-T. WARTON.

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