Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is, Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipped 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 learned 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. Seignior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Seignior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Seignior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. 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.1 Rest you merry. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's [Exit. 1 This cant expression seems to have been once common; it often occurs in old plays. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires! And these, who, often drowned, could never die,Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun And she shall scant show well, that now shows best. [Exeunt. 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 maidenhead 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. Jul. What is your will? Your mother. Madam, I am here; La. Cap. This is the matter.-Nurse, give leave awhile, 1 Heath says, " Your lady's love, is the love you bear to your lady, which, in our language, is commonly used for the lady herself." Perhaps we should read, "Your lady love." 2 In all the old copies the greater part of this scene was printed as prose. Capell was the first who exhibited it as verse; the subsequent editors have followed him, but perhaps erroneously. We must talk in secret-Nurse, come back again, Nurse. And yet, to my teen' I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, be it spoken, I have but four.How long is it now A fortnight, and odd days. Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! Shake, quoth the dove-house; 'twas no need, I trow, And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, She could have run and waddled all about, For even the day before, she broke her brow; 1 i. e. to my sorrow. The pretty wretch left crying, and said--Ay. La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. 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 grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed; I have my wish. 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 honor that I dream not of. Nurse. An honor! were not I thine only nurse, I'd say thou hadst sucked 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, I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Nurse. A man, young lady! Lady, such a man, As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.3 1 To stint is to stop. 2 This tautologous speech is not in the first quarto of 1597. We must talk in secret-Nurse, come back again, Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen' be it spoken, I have but four. She is not fourteen. To Lammas-tide? How long is it now A fortnight, and odd days. Shake, quoth the dove-house; 'twas no need, I trow, And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, She could have run and waddled all about, For even the day before, she broke her brow; 1 i. e. to my sorrow. |