Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd 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 plantain leaf is excellent for that." Ben. For what, I pray thee? Rom. 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-Good-e'en, good fellow. 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. * Your plantain leaf is excellent for that,] The plantain leaf is a blood-stauncher, and was formerly applied to green wounds. A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note.] Whither should they come ? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper; to our 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. Rest you merry. [Exit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, 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 hereticks, 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 pois'd with herself in either eye: But in those 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. [Exeunt. 9 crush a cup of wine.] This cant expression seems to have been once common among low people. We still say, in cant language to crack a bottle. Your lady's love-] Your lady's love is the love you bear to your lady. 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,-at twelve year old, I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird!— God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet! 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 shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. La. Cap. She's not fourteen. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen2 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! to my teen-] To my sorrow. Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; And since that time it is eleven years: For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said—Ay. La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nay, I do bear a brain:] That is, I have a perfect remembrance or recollection. 4 it stinted,] i. e. it stopped, it forbore from weeping. Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay: Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs❜d: I have my wish. very La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the 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 you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.5 5 La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. in wax. a man of wax.] Well made, as if he had been modelled |