Whipp'd, and tormented, and—Good e'en, good fellow. ROM. Stay, fellow: I can read. 66 [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 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. BEN. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's [Exit. Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires! One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun BEN. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, But in that crystal scales, let there be weigh'd 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 maidenhead,—at twelve year old,— I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, ladybird!God forbid!—where 's this girl?-what, Juliet! 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. 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. And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,- 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, 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, LA. CAP. Marry, that marry is the very theme How stands your disposition to be married? NURSE. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, 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. And see how one another lends content; The fish lives in the sea; and 't is much pride, NURSE. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men. But no more deep will I endart mine eye, 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. SCENE IV.A Street. [Exeunt. Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with Five or Six Maskers, Torchbearers, and others. ROм. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse; Or shall we on without apology? BEN. The date is out of such prolixity: Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke ROM. Give me a torch,-I am not for this ambling; MER. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. MER. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, ROM. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, To soar with his light feathers; and to boundI 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: ROM. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, [Putting on a mask. |