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(5) A fair affembly; whither should they come? Serv. Up.
Rom. Whither? to fupper?
Serv. To our house.
Rom. Whofe houfe ?
Serv. My mafter's.
Rom. Indeed, I fhould have afk'd you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crufh a cup of wine. Reft you merry. [Exit.
Ben. At this fame ancient feaft of Capulet's
Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, none elfe being by, Herself pois'd with herself, in either eye;
But in thofe chryftal fcales, (6) let there be weigh'd
(5) A fair affembly; whither should they come ?
Rom. Whitber? to fupper?
Serv. To our boufe.] Romeo had read over the lift of invited guests; but how should he know they were invited to fupper? This comes much more aptly from the Servant's answer, than Ro meo's queftion; and muft undoubtedly be placed to him.
When a man reads a lift of guefts, he knows they are invited to fomething, and, without any extraordinary good fortune, may guess, to a fupper.
(6) let there be weigb'd
Your lady's love against fome other maid,] But the comparison was not betwixt the love that Romeo's miftrefs paid him, and the perfon of any other young woman; but betwixt Romeo's mistress herself, and fome other that fhould be match'd against her. The poet therefore muft certainly have wrote; Your lady-love against fome other maid.
That I will fhew you, fhining at this feaft,
Changes to Capulet's House.
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurfe.
La. Cap. Nurfe, where's my daughter? Call her forth
Nurfe. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve years old)
I bad her come; what lamb! what, lady-bird!
Jul. How now, who calls?
Nurfe. Your mother.
Juliet. Madam, I am here, what is your will?"
La. Cap. This is the matter
while, we muft talk in fecret
Nurfe, give leave a
Nurse, come back
again, I have remember'd me, thou fhalt hear our counfel. Thou know'ft my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurfe. 'Faith I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not fourteen.
Nurfe. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet (7) to my teen be it spoken, I have but four ;) fhe's not fourteen; how long is it now to Lamas-tide?
La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days.
Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the year, come Lammas-eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Sufan and the (God rest all chriftian fouls!) were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God, fhe was too good for me. But as I faid, on Lammas-eve at night fhall fhe be fourteen, that shall fhe, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and she was wean'd; I never fhall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon that day; for I had then laid worm-wood to my dug, fitting in the fun under the Dove-houfe wall, my Lord (7) to my then- -] To my forrow.
and you were then at Mantua. Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to see it techy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the Dove-houfetwas no need, I trow, to bid me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then she could ftand alone; nay, by th' rood, he could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before the broke her brow, and then my husband, (God be with his foul, a' was a merry man;) took up the child, yea, quoth he, doft 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 faid, ay; To fee now, how a jeft shall come about.I warrant, an' I should live a thousand years, I fhould not forget it: Wilt thou not, Jéz quoth he? and, pretty fool, it ftinted, and faid, ay.
La. Cap. Enough of this I pray thee hold thy peace. (8) Nurfe. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and fay, ay; and yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's ftone; a perilous knock, and it cried. bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall'it upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, Wilt thou not, Fulé ? it ftinted, and faid, ay.
ful. And ftint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his grace!
Thou waft the prettiest Babe, that e'er I nurft.
An' I might live to fee thee married once,
I have my wifh.
La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theam I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How ftands your difpofition to be married? Jul (9) It is an hour that I dream not of. Nurfe. An hour? Were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadft fuck'd wisdom from thy teat. (8) Nurfe.] Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe, &c.] This speech and tautology is not in the first edition.
(9) It is an bour-] The modern editors all give it as an honour. I have restored the genuine word, which is more feemly from a girl to her mother. Your, fire, and fuch words as are vulgarly uttered in two fyllables, are ufed as diffyllables by Shakespeare.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers. By my count,
I was your
mother much upon thefe years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief ;The valiant Paris feeks you for his love.
Nurfe. A man, young lady, lady, fuch a man
La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not fuch a flower.
This night you fhall behold him at our Feast,
Read o'er the Volume of
And fee how one another lends Content:
This precious book of Love, this unbound Lover, .
The fish lives in the Sea, and 'tis much pride,
Nurfe. No lefs? Nay, bigger; Women grow by Men.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Madam, the guefts are come, fupper ferv'd (1) La. Cap. What fay you, &c.] This ridiculous fpeech is entirely added fince the first edition.
(2) That in gold clafps locks in the golden ftory.] The golden story is perhaps the golden legend, a book in the darker ages of popery much read, and doubtlefs often exquifitely embellished, but of which Canus, one of the popish doctors, proclaims the authour to have been bomo ferrei oris, plumbei cordis.
up, you call'd, my young lady afk'd for, the nurfe curft in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I befeech you, follow ftrait.
La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays. Nurfs, Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
A Street before Capulet's Houfe.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other mafkers, torch-bearers, and drums.
Rom. What, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe?
Or fhall we on without apology?
Ben. (3) The date is out of fuch prolixity.
Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have
Mer. (6) You are a lover; borrow Cupid's Wings,
(3) The date is out of fuch prolixity.] i. e. Moks are now out of fashion. That Shakespeare was an enemy to these fooleries, appears from his writing none: and that his plays difcredit fuch entertainments is more than probable. But in James's time, that reign of falfe tafte, as well as falfe politics, they came again in fashion and a deluge of this affected nonfenfe overflowed the court and country. WARBURTON.
(4)-like a crow-keeper :] The word crow-keeper is explained in Lear.
(5) Nor a without-book prologue, &c.] The two following lines are inferted from the first edition.
(6) Mer. You are a Lower, &c.] The twelve following lines are
not to be found in the first edition.