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dle 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.
Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burn
ing, 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.
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 fel
low. Sero. 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
any thing you see?
[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 Çapulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair assembly; [Gires back the Note.) Whither
should they come ? Sero. 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.4 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.
4 We still say in cant language-to crack a bottle.
Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois’ds 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.
A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter Ladu 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 ?
Madam, I am here, What is
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.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
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 ! Were of an age.--Well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me : But, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years ; And she was wean'd, I never shall forget it, Of all the days of the year, upon that day : For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, My lord and you were then at Mantua :Nay, 1 do bear a brain ::—but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, Toʻbid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years : For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
7 To my sorrow.
9 The cross.
She could have run and waddled all about.
peace. Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but
Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd :
wish. La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme