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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 :1-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 dag.
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas 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, 2
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 will fall backward, when thou hast

more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule? and by my holy-dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said—Ay:
To see now, 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

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.

(1) i.e. I have a perfect remembrance or recolleotion.

(2) The cross.
(3) Holy dame, i. e. the blessed Virgin.
(4) It stopped crying.


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, How stands your disposition to be married !

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

Nurse. 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 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 war.2

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 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 obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.3

(1) Favour.
(2) Well made, as if he had been modelled in wal.

(3) The comments on ancient books were al. ways printed in the margin.

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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,2 and be gone.
Rom. Give me a torch,3—I am not for this am-

bling; 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 so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull wo:
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.

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, What curious eye doth quote4 deformities? Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.

(1) A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten crows.

(2) A dance.

(3) A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskera.

(4) Observe.

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