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I never should forget it: Wilt thou not, Jule?'

quoth he: And, pretty fool, it stinted,1 and said • Ay.' L. 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 comest to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted, and said · Ay.'

Ju. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse,

.

say I.

I have my

Nurse. Peace; I have done: God mark thee to

his grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed :
An I might live to see thee married once,

wish.
L. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of.—Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married ?

Ju. It is an honor that I dream not of.

Nurse. An honor! were not I thine only nurse,
I would say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy

teat.

1 Left off crying.

L. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger

than you,

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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 ;-
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.1

L. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very

flower.
L. Cap. What say you ? can you love the gen-

tleman ?
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 married lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscured 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 'tis 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;

1 i. e, as well made as if he had been modelled in wax.

2 i. e. is not yet caught, whose skin was wanted to bind him.

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.

L. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris'

love?
Ju. 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 SERVANT.

Ser. 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, L. 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 five or six

Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others. Ro. 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;1
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.

Ro. 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. Ro. 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.

Ro. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden

love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Ro. 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 Prick love for pricking, and you' beat love down.Give me a case to put my visage in :

love;

1 A scarecrow.

2 A dance. 3 A torch-bearer was formerly an appendage to every troop of maskers.

[putting on a mask. A visor for a visor! What care I, What curious

eye
doth quote 1

1 deformities ? Here are the beetle brows, shall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock, and enter ; and

ng

sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.

Ro. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes 2 with their heels; For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase, I'll be a candle-holder, and look on ;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 daylight, bo.

Ro. Nay, that's not so.
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.

Ro. And we mean well, in going to this mask ; But 'tis no wit to go. Mer.

Why, may one ask ? Ro. I dreamt a dream to-night.

i Observe.

2 Before the use of carpets it was customary to strew rooms with rushes.

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