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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 anything 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. Signor Martino, and his wife and daughter; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signor Placentio, and his lovely nieces: Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signor Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena." A fair assembly [gives back the note]; Whither should they

come?
SERV. Up.
Rom. Whither to supper?
SERV. To our house.
Rom. Whose house?
SERV. My master's.
Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd 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.

[Erit. 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 heretics, 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 that 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.

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 maidenhead, -at twelve year old,
I bade her come.- What, lamb! what, ladybird !-
God forbid !-where's this girl?—what, Juliet !

Enter JULIET.
JUL. How now, who calls ?
NURSE.

Your mother.
JUL.

Madam, I am here. What is your will?

LA. CAP. This is the matter:~Nurse, give leave a while,
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 teen 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!-
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.
T is since the earthquake now eleven years;

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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: ’t was 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:

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?
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 grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: 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,

To see now,

How stands your disposition to be married ?

JUL. It is an honour that I dream not of.

NORSE. 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, I was a 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.

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 several 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 't is much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide:
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,

your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Than

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.

LA. CAP. We follow thee.—Juliet, the county stays.
NURSE. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

Exeunt.

SCENE IV-A Street.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with Fit or Six Maskers,

Torchbearers, 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 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 to bound-
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burthen do I sink.

MER. And, to sink in it, should you burthen 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,

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