S CE N E V.

Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse. La. Cap. NURSE, where's my daughter ? call her

forth to me. Nurse. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve year old). I bad her come ; what lamb, what lady-bird, God forbid where's this girl ? what, Juliet ?

Enter Juliet.
Jul. How now, who calls ?
Nurse. Your mother.
Tul Madam, I am here, what is your will?

La. Cap. This is the matter Nurse, give leave a while, we must talk in secret ; Nurse, come back again, I have remembred me, thou shalt hear my counsel : thou know't my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse. Faith I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not eighteen.

Nurse. "I'll lay eighteen of my teeth, and yet to my teeth be it spoken, I have but eight, she's not eighteen ; how long is it now 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 the be eighteen. Susan and The (God reft all christian souls) were of an age. Susan is with God ; she was too good for me. But as I. said, on Lammas-eve at night shall fhe be eighteen, that Shall she, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now fifteen Years, and she was wean'd ; I never shall forget it, of all the Days in the year, upon that day; for I had then laid wormwood to my breast, fitting in the fun under the dove-house-wall; my were then at Mantua

nay, I do bear a brain. But as I said, when it did taste the wormwood on the nipple of the breast, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to see it teachy and fall out with the breaft. Shake, quoth the dovehouse --- 'twas no need I trow, to bid me trudge ; and fince that time it is fifteen years, for then the could stand alone, nay, by th' rood the could have run, and wad.

led

Well,

lord and you

led all about; for even the day before she broke her brows 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 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 see now how a jest shall come about I warrant, and I should live a thoufand Years, I should not forget it : Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he ? and pretty fool, it ftinted, and said, ay. ul. And stint thee too, I pray

thee

peace. Nurse. Peace, I have done; God mark thee to his gracej Thou waft the prettiest babe that e'er I nurft : And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.

La. Cap. And that same marriage 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 thing only nurse, I'd say thou hadst fuck'd wisdom from thy tear.

La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger Here in Verona, ladies of esfeem, 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.

Nursé. 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.
Nurse. Nay he's a flower, in faith a very flower,
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 my eye,
Then your consent gives strength io make it Ay.

Enter Gregory. Greg. Madam, new guests are come, and brave ones, all in masks. You are calld; my young lady asked for, the Nurse curs’d in the pantry ; fupper almost ready to be ferv'd up, and every thing in extremity. I mult bence and wait. La. Cap. We follow thee,

Exeunt. SCENE

than you

your feet

SCE

Ε Ν Ε VI.

A Hall in Capulet's House. The Capulets, Ladies, Guests, and Maskers, are discover'd. Cap. WElcome, Gentlemen. Ladies, that have Unplagued with corns, we'll have a bout with you. Who'll now deny to dance ? She that makes dainty, I'll swear hath corns.

I have seen the day e'er now, That I have worn a Visor, and cou'd tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please ; ’tis gone ; 'tis gone ; 'tis gone!

[Mufick plays, and they dance. More light ye knaves, and turn the tables up ; And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah, Sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. Nay fit, nay sit, good cousin Capulet, For you and I are past our dancing days : How long is't now since last yourself and I Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.

Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much 'Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we mask'd.

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more ; his son is elder, Sir : His son is thirty.

Cap. Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago.

Rom. Cousin Benvolio, do you mark that Lady, which Doth enrich the hand of yonder gentleman.

Ben. I do,

Rom. Does she not teach the torches how to shine ?
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Æthiops' ear;
The measure done, I'll watch her to her place,
And touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Be still, be still, my fluttering heart.

Tib. This by his voice should be a Mountague,
Fetch me my rapier, boy; what, dares the slave
Come hither moyer'd with an antick face,

To

To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Now by the stock and honour of my Race,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Cap. Why, how now, kinsman, wherefore storm you -

thus?
Tib. Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe:
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn and flout at our solemnity.

Cap. Young Romeo, is't?
Tib. That villain Romeo.
Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone,
He bears him like a courtly gentleman:
And to fay truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth.
I would not for the wealth of all this town
Here in my house do him disparagement:
Therefore be patient, take no note of him.

Tib. It fits, when such a villain is a guest.
I'll not endure him.

Cap. He shall be endur’d.
Be quiet, Coufin, or I'll make you quiet

lib. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting,
Makes my fleih tremble in their difference.
I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall

.

[A Dance bere. Ram. If I prophane with my unworthy hand

[10 Juliet. This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this.

[Kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too

much,
For palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.

Rom. Have not faints lips, and holy palmers too ?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom. Thus then, dear faint, let lips put up their prayers.

[Kiss. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Ben. What is her mother?

[To ber nurse. Nurse. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous, I nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal:

I tell you, he that can lay hold on her
Shall have the chink.

Ben. Is she a Capulet?
Romeo, let's be gone, the sport is over.

Rom. Ay, so I fear, the more is my mishap. [Ex.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone,
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it e'en so ? why then, I thank you

all. I thank you, honest gentlemen, good night: More torches here come on, then let's to supper.

(Exeunt.
Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yon gentleman ?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio
Jul. What's he that is now going out of door?
Nurse. That, as I think, is young Mercutio.
Jul. What's he that follows here, that would not

dance?
Nurse. I know not.
Jul. Go ask his name. If he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding-bed.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love fprung from my only hate! Too early seen, unknown; and known too late.

Nurse. What's this? what's this? Jul. A rhime I learn'd e'en now Of one I talk'd withal.

[One calls within, Juliet. Nurse. Anon, anonCome, let's away, the strangers are all gone. (Exeunt.