« PreviousContinue »
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
and to them say,
[Exeunt CAPULET and Paris. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written-that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned:-In good time.
6 My will to her consent is but a part ;] To, in this instance, signifies in comparison with, in proportion to.
: Inherit at my house;] To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare's age, is to possess.
Enter Benvolio and Romeo.
Ben. Tut, man ! one fire burns out another's
burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
For your broken shin
up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good
fellow. Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you read! Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery:
. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry
! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads.
Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters ; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia ; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.
* Your plantain leaf is ercellent for that,] The plantain leaf is a blood-stauncher, and was formerly applied to green wounds.
A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note.] Whither
should they come? Serv. Up Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have asked 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.
[Exit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires! And these, who, often drown'd, could never die,
Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.
Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you, shining at this feast, And she shall_scant show well, that now shows best:
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt.
crush a cup of wine.] This cant expression seems to have been once common among low people. We still say, in cant language—to crack a bottle.
Your lady's love-) Your lady's love is the love you bear to your lady.
A Room in Capulet's House.
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 bade 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. Jul.
Madam, I am here. What is your will ? La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave
Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen? be it spoken, I have but
four, She is not fourteen: How long is it now To Lammas-tide?
A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan and she, God rest all Christian souls !
to my teen--] To my sorrow.
Were of an age.—Well, Susan is with God;
the child : Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt 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
• Nay, I do bear a brain :) That is, I have a perfect remembrance or recollection.
- it stinted,] i. e. it stopped, it forbore from weeping. VOL. X.