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Rom. Indeed, I should have afkt you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Reft

you merry.

Ben. At this fame antient feaft of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou fo lov'ft;
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither, and, with untainted eye,
Compare her face with fome that I fhall fhow,
And I will make thee think thy fwan a crow.


Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye.
Maintains fuch falfhoods, then turn tears to fires!
And thefe, who, often drown'd, could never die,
Tranfparent hereticks, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love! th' all-feeing fun
Ne'er faw her match, fince firft the world begun.
Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, none elfe being by;
Herfelf pois'd with herfelf, in either eye:

But in thofe cryftal fcales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady-love against fome other maid, (3)
That I will fhew you, fhining at this feaft;
And she will shew fcant well, that now fhews beft.
Rom. I'll go along, no fuch fight to be fhewn;
But to rejoice in fplendor of mine own.

(3) ----------let there be weigh'd


Your Lady's Love againft fome other Maid] But the Comparison was not betwixt the Love that Romeo's Miftrefs paid him, and the Perfon of any other young Woman: but betwixt Romeo's Mistress herself, and fome other that fhould be matched against her. The Poet therefore muft certainly have wrote;

Your Lady-love against fome other Maid. So the Comparison stands right, and fenfibly.


SCENE, changes to Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.

La. Cap. Urfe, where's my daughter? call her forth

to me.

Nurfe. Now (by my maiden-head at twelve years old) I bade her come; what, lamb,-what, lady-bird, God forbid!where's this girl? what, Juliet?

Enter Juliet.

Jul. How now, who calls?

Nurfe. Your mother.

Jul. Madam, I am here, what is your will?

La. Cap. This is the matter

-Nurfe, give leave a

while, we muft talk in fecret; Nurfe, come back again,

I have remember'd me, thou fhalt hear our counsel: thou know'ft my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurfe. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurfe I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet to my teen be it spoken, I have but four;) fhe's not fourteen; how long is it now to Lammas-tide ?

La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days.

Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the year, come Lammas-eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Sufan and fhe (God reft all chriftian fouls!) were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God, fhe was too good for me. But as I faid, on Lammas-eve at night shall fhe be fourteen, that fhall fhe, marry, I remember it well. "Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and fhe was wean'd; I ne、 ver fhall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon that day; for I had then laid worm-wood to my dug, fitting in the fun under the dove-houfe wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua-nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to fee it teachy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove-houfe- -'twas no need, I trow, to bid me




re a



my zen;




as I -hat the







me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then she could ftand alone; nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before the broke her brow,, and then my husband, (God be with his foul, a' was a merry man ;) took up the child; yea, quoth he, doft thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not Jule? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and faid, ay; To fee now, how a jeft fhall come about.- -I warrant, an' I should live a thousand years, I should not forget it: Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he? and, pretty fool, it ftinted, and faid, ay.

La. Cap. Enough of this, I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurfe. Yes Madam; yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to think it fhould leave crying, and fay, ay; and yet, I wariant, it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's ftone: a perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall'ft upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not, Julé? it ftinted, and said, ay.

Jul. And stint thee too, I pray thee, nurfe, fay I.
Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his
grace! +

Thou waft the prettiest babe, that e'er I nurft.
An' I might live to fee thee married once,
I have



La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theme
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How ftands your difpofition to be married?
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurfe. An honour? were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, thou hadst fuck'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,
I was your mother much upon thefe years
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;
The valiant Paris feeks you for his love.


Nurfe. A man, young lady, lady, fuch a man As all the world- -Why, he's a man of wax.

La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurfe. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower,
La. Cap. What fay you, can you like 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 ev'ry fev'ral lineament,

And fee, 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 fea, and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clafps locks in the golden ftory.
So, fhall you fhare all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, making yourfelf no lefs.

Nurfe. No lefs? 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 indart mine eye,
Than your confent gives ftrength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young lady afk'd for, the nurfe curst in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I muft hence to wait; I befeech you, follow ftrait.

La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays. Nurfe. Go, girl, feek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.


SCENE, a Street before Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other mafkers, torch-bearers, and drums.


7 Hat, fhall this fpeech be spoke for our excufe? Or fhall we on without apology?


Ben. The date is out of fuch 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 a without-book prologue faintly spoke 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, I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy, I will bear the light.



Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing fhoes With nimble foles; I have a foul of lead, So ftakes me to the ground, I cannot move. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And foar with them above a common bound. Rom. I am too fore enpearced with his shaft, To foar with his light feathers: and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe : Under love's heavy burden do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you burden love: Too great oppreffion 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 cafe to put my vifage in;

[Pulling off his mask. A vifor for a vifor!what care I, What curious eye doth quote deformities?


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