SCENE III. 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! La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. La. Cap. She's not fourteen. Nurse. 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? La. Cap. 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; And since that time it is eleven years: For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, 4 And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay. La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. • 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. IX. D 1 Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay: Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: 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 than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, 5 La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. in wax. tleman ? a man of wax.] Well made, as if he had been modelled This night you shall behold him at our feast: 6 And see how one another lends content; The fish lives in the sea;' and 'tis much pride, That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men. La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? Enter a Servant. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy the margin of his eyes.] The comments on ancient books were always printed in the margin. The fish lives in the sea; &c.] i. e. is not yet caught. D 2 SCENE IV. A Street. Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-Bearers, and Others. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of such prolixity:8 We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, 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, and be gone. Rom. Give me a torch,'-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, 8 The date is out of such prolixity:] Introductory speeches are out of date or fashion. 9 We'll measure them a measure,] i. e. a dance. 1 Give me a torch,] A torch-bearer seems to have been a constant appendage on every troop of masks, and was not reckoned a degrading office. |