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SCENE IV.

CAPULET'S House.

Enter LADY CAPULET and NURSE.

Lady C. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse. Now by my faith I bade her come; what lamb, what lady-bird, God forbid-where's this girl? what Juliet !

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Jul. Madam, I am here, what is your will?

Lady C. This is the matter-Nurse, give leave a while, we must talk in secret;-Nurse, come back again. I have remembered me, thou shalt hear my counsel. Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Lady C. 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 ?

Lady C. A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas eve at night shall she be eighteen.
Susan and she (God rest all christian souls)
Were of an age. Well, Susan is in Heaven:
She was too good for me. But, as I said,
On Lammas eve at night shall she be eighteen,
That shall she; marry, I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now just fifteen years,
And she was weaned; I never shall forget it,
Of all the days in the year upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my breast,
Sitting in the sun, under the dove-house wall;

My lord and you were then at Mantua :-
Nay, I do bear a brain.

Jul. I pray thee, peace.

Nurse. Peace, I have done, Heaven mark thee to its grace.

Thou wast the prettiest babe that ere I nurs'd:
An' I might live to see thee married once,

I have my wish.

Lady C. And that same marriage is the very I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?

theme

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 breast. Lady C. 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,
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.

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

Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter PETER.

Peter. Madam, new guests are come, and brave ones, all in masks. You are called; my young lady asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry; supper almost ready to be served up, and every thing in extremity. I must hence, and wait. I beseech you, follow straight.

Lady C. We follow thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

A Hall in CAPULET'S House.

The CAPULETS, LADIES, GUESTS, and MASKERS are discovered.-Music plays.

Cap. Welcome, gentlemen. Ladies, that have your feet

Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you. Who'll now deny to dance? She, that makes dainty, I'll swear hath corns.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, &c. Welcome all, gentlemen; I've seen the day That I have worn a visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please ; 'tis gone; 'tis gone; More light, ye knaves, and turn the tables up; And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Rom. Cousin Benvolio, do you mark that lady which

Doth enrich the hand of yonder gentleman ?

Ben. I do.

'tis gone.

Rom. Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Æthiop's ear;

I'll wait 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 Montague,

What, dares the slave

Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,

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 Montague, our foe;
A villain that is hither come in spite,
To scorn and butt 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 say 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, cousin, or I'll make you quiet.—
Tib. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their difference.
I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

[Exit TIBALT. Rom. If I profane, with my unworthy hand,

[TO 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 saints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul, Ay, pilgrim, lips, that they must use in prayer. Rom. Thus then, dear saint, let lips put up their [Kiss. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with

prayers.

you.

Mer. What is her mother?

Nurse. Marry, bachelor,

Her mother is the lady of the house,

[To NURSE.

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.

Mer. Is she a Capulet?

Romeo, let's begone, the sport is over.

Rom. Ay, so I fear, the more is my mishap.
Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to begone,
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
Is it even so? why, then, I thank you all.
I thank you, honest gentlemen, good night.
More torches here-come on, then let's to supper.

[Exit. Jul. Come hither, Nurse-What is yon gentleman? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

[Exit BEN. Jul. What's he, that is now a-going out of door? Nurse. That, as I think, is young Mercutio.

Jul. What's he, that follows

Nurse. I know not.

[Exit MER. [Exit ROMEO.

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 Montague, The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love, sprung from my only hate! Too early seen, unknown! and known too late. Nurse. What's this? what's this!

Jul. A rhyme I learn'd e'en now,

Of one I talk'd withal.

Nurse. Come, let's away, the strangers are all gone.

[Exeunt.

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