Ser. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Ser. To fupper, to our house.

Rom. Whofe house?

Ser. My mafter's.

Rom. Indeed, I fhould have afkt you that before. Ser. Now I'll tell you without afking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the Houfe of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you merry. [Exit.

Ben. At this fame ancient Feaft of Capulet's Sups the fair Rofaline, whom thou fo lov'ft; With all th' admired beauties of Verona. Go thither, and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with fome that I fhall fhow, 'And I will make thee think thy Swan 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, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! th' all-feeing Sun Ne'er faw her match, fince firft the world begun. Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, noncelse being by; Herfelf pois'd with herfelf, in either eye: But in thofe cryftal fcales, let there be weigh'd Your Lady's love against fome other maid, That I will fhew you, fhining at the feast; And he will fhew 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.

[Exeunt.

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

NUR

forth to me.

Nurfe. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve Years old) I bade her come; what, lamb-What, ladybird, 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-Nurse, give leave a while, we must talk in fecret; Nurse, come back again, I have remember'd me,thou fhalt hear our counfel 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 fpoken, 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 the days in the year, come Lammas-eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Sufan and the (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 fhall fhe be fourteen, that shall she, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and fhe was wean'd; I never 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 Sun under the Dove-house wall, my lord and you were then at Mantua nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did tafte 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-house'twas no need, I trow, to bid 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 hufband.

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, Julé? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and said, ay; To fee now, how a jeft shall come about.--I warrant, an' I fhould 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 should leave crying, and fay, ay; and yet, I warrant, 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 faid, ay.

Jul. And ftint 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 see thee married once,

I have my wifh.

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 had'st suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger

than you

By my count,

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers.
I was your mother much upon
That
you are now a maid.

thefe years Thus, then, in brief;

G 2

The

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 Gen

tleman?

This night you shall behold him at our Feaft;
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 obfcur'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 clafps locks in the golden Story.
So, fhall you share all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, making yourself 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.

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

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

Exeunt. SCENE

A Street before Capulet's House.

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

HAT, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe?

Rom. W

Or fhall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of fuch porlixity.
We'll have no Cupid, hood-wink'd with a fcarf,
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 you dance.
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 fo bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull Woe:
Under Love's heavy burden do I fink.

1

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 boift'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 Cale to put my visage in?

[Pulling off his Mask.