Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. 17 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,

20

I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, 64 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,

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, 24

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 fooll
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug.
'Shake,' quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need,

32

28

Lady Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,

Are made already mothers: by my count,
I was your mother much upon these years 72
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. 76 Lady Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

thy teat.

68

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

rood,

36

Lady Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman?

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:
40
'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 halidom,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay.' 44
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?'

This night you shall behold him at our feast; 80
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 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 eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story: 92
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him making yourself no less.

88

Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; women grow by

men.

Lady Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

96

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.

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 grace!

61

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

Lady Cap. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme

SCENE IV. The Same. A Street. Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Masquers, Torch-Bearers, and Others.

If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire, Of-save your reverence-love, wherein thou stick'st

Rom. What! shall this speech be spoke for our excuse,

Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer.

Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:

I mean, sir, in delay 44 We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits

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. I dream'd a dream to-night. Mer.

Rom. Give me a torch: I am not for this

ambling;

Rom. Well, what was yours? Mer.

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

12

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

52

Why, may one ask?

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.

Ben. Queen Mab! What's she?

Mer. She is the fairies' midwife, and she

A visor for a visor! what care I,
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. 32
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.

Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 88

And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night;
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled much misfortune bodes;
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:

Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;

Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 104
Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from
ourselves;

100

Rom. I fear too early; for my mind misgives

Ah! sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet,
For you and I are past our dancing days;
How long is 't now since last yourself and I 36
Were in a mask?

Of a despised life clos'd in my breast

40

Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:

'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.

Sec. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his son is elder, sir.

His son is thirty.

Cap.

Will you tell me that?

44

His son was but a ward two years ago.
Rom. What lady is that which doth enrich

Of yonder knight?

the hand

Serv. I know not, sir.

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 52
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

57 slave

Come hither, cover'd with an antick face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

touch,

60

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 104 Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Cap. Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

64

Rom. O! then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;

A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

Cap. Young Romeo, is it?

Tyb.

72

'Tis he, that villain Romeo. 68 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone: He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. I would not for the wealth of all this town Here in my house do him disparagement; Therefore be patient, take no note of him: It is my will; the which if thou respect, 76 Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest: I'll not endure him.

108

Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take.

Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her.

Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

112

Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
I tell you he that can lay hold of her

84

Shall have the chinks.

Rom.

Is she a Capulet?

Go to, go to;

You are a saucy boy-is't so indeed?-
This trick may chance to scathe you. I know

You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
Be quiet, or-More light, more light! For
shame!

I'll make you quiet. What! cheerly, my hearts! Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting 93

Makes my flesh tremble in their different
greeting.
I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. [Exit.
Rom. [To JULIET.] If I profane with my un-

120

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.

Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;

125