Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well, that now shows best. SCENE III. A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter Lady CAPULET and Nurse. [Exeunt. La. Cap. Nurse, where 's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady-bird! God forbid! - where's this girl? - what, Juliet! La. Cap. This is the matter. - Nurse, give leave awhile, 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. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet to my teen be it spoken I have but four, 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; Shake, quoth the dove-house: 't was no need, I trow, 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: 'A was a merry man, - took up the child: 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 "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 66 Ay." 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, Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I would 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 your mother, much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. And find delight writ there with beauty's pen. Examine every married lineament, And see how one an other lends content; And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies, This precious book of love, this unbound lover, So shall you share all that he doth possess, Nurse. No less? nay, bigger: women grow by men. 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 every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the county stays. 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 hood-wink'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. 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, Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, A visor for a visor! what care I, What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me. [Putting on a Mask. Ben. Gome, 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, The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. Mer. Tut! dun 's the mouse, the constable's own word. If thou art dun, we 'll draw thee from the mire Of this save-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears. Come, we burn day-light, ho. Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask, Mer. Why, may one ask? Mer. And so did I. |