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These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows,
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair ;
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost :
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve,4 but as a note
Where I may read, who pass’d that passing fair.
Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Street.

Enter CAPULET, Paris, and Servant.
Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my

earth: 5

3 These happy masks, &c.] i. e. the masks worn by female spectators of the play.

* What doth her beauty serve,) i. e. what end does it answer?

s She is the hopeful lady of my earth :) This is a Gallicism: Fille de terre is the French phrase for an heiress.

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But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies

my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest.
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel
When well apparell’d April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house ;' hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me ;-Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona ; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, (Gives a Paper.]

and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

[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 taylor 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.

7 Inherit at my house ;] To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare's age, is to possess.

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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:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. 8
Ben. For what, I pray thee?
Rom.

For
your

broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman

is:

Shut up

in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and—Good-e'en, good

fellow. Serv. God gi' good c'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.

8 Your plantain leaf is excellent 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? Sero. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house? Sero. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before.

Sero. 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.

Erit. 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 stay, in cant Innguageto crack a bottle.

Your lady's love-] Your lady's love is the love you bear to your lady,

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 I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-birdGod forbid !-where's this girl :—what, Juliet!

year old,

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

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 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!

La. Cap:

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