She could have run and waddled all about. Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy dam, And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said—Ay. Nurse. Yes, madam; yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay: Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to age; Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said—Ay. Ful. 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: Lady 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. Lady Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, 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. Lady Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. Lady Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast: And see how one another lends content; The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride, That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men. Lady 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. Lady Cap. We follow thee. [Exit Servant.]— Juliet, the county 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 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: 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 you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble souls: I have a soul of lead, Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, 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 boisterous; 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? 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,— If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire 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. Mer. Why, may one ask? And so did I. That dreamers often lie. Rom. Well, what was yours? Mer. 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 Drawn with a team of little atomies |