tagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you

merry.

Ben. At this fame auncient feast of Capulets,
Sups the faire Rofaline whom thou fo loues : +
With all the admired beauties of Verona,
Goe thither and with vnattainted eye,
Compare her face with fome that I fhall fhew,
And I will make the thinke thy fwan a crow,
Ro. When the deuout religion of mine eye,
Maintaines fuch falfhood, then turne teares to fier:
And these who often drownd, could neuer die,
Tranfparent hereticques be burnt for liers.
One fairer then my loue? the all feeing fun
Nere faw her match, fince first the world begun.
Ben. Tut you faw her faire none else being by,
Her felfe poyfde with her felfe in either eye :
But in that christall scales let there be waid,
Your ladies loue against fome other maid,
That I will fhew you shining at this feast,
And she shall scant fhew well, that now fhewes best.
Ro. Ile goe along no fuch fight to be showne,
But to reioyce in fplendor of mine owne.

Enter Capulets wife and Nurse.

Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurfe. Now by my maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what lamb, what ladi-bird, God forbid, Wheres this girle? what Iuliet.

Juli. Madam I am here, what is your will?

Wife. This is the matter. Nurse giue leaue a while, wee muft talke in fecret. Nurfe come backe againe, I haue remembred me, thou'fe heare our counfell. Thou knoweft my daughters of a prety age.

Nurfe. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre.

Wife. Shees not fourteene.

Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, and yet to my teene be it fpoken, I haue but foure, fhees not fourteene. How long is it now to Lammas-tide?

Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes.

Nurse. Euen or odd, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas eue at night fhall fhe be fourteene. Sufan and fhe, God reft all christian fouls, were of an age. Well Sufan is with God fhee was to good for mee. But as I faid on Lammas eue at night shall fhee bee fourteene, that* fhall shee marrie, I remember it well. Tis fince the earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was weand I neuer fhall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare vpon that day: for I had then laid wormewood to my dug fitting in the funne vnder the douehouse wall. My lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I faide, when it did taft the wormewood on the nipple of my dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to fee it teachie and fall out with the dugge, Shake quoth the doue-house, twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge : and fince that time it is a leuen yeares, for then she could ftand a lone, nay bi'th roode she could haue runne and wadled all about: for euen the day before the broke her brow, and then my husband, God bee with his foule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the child, yea quoth hee, doeft thou fall vpon thy face thou wilt fall backeward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not Iule? and by my holydam, the pretty wretch left crying, and faid I: to fee now how a ieft fhall come

⚫ then:

about.

about. I warrant, and I fhall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer fhould forget it: wilt thou not lule quoth he and pretty foole it stinted, and said I.

Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes madam, yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying and fay I: and yet I warrant it had upon * it brow, a bompe as big as a yong cockrels ftone? a perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fallst vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commest to age wilt thou not Iule? It stinted, and said I.

:

Iuli. And stint thou too, I pray thee nurse, fay I.

Nurse. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace, thou waft the prettieft babe that ere I nurft, and I might liue to fee thee married once. I haue my wish.

Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet, How stands your difpofitions to be married? Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of.

Nurfe. An houre, were not I thine onely nurse, I would fay thou hadst fuckt || wifedome from thy teat.

Old La. Well think of marriage now, yonger then you Here in Verona, ladies of efteeme,

Are made already mothers by my count.

I was your mother, much vpon thefe yeares

That you are now a maide, thus then in briefe:

The valiant Paris feekes you for his loue.

Nurse. A man young lady, lady, fuch a man as all the world, Why hees a man of waxe.

Old La. Veronas fummer hath not fuch a flower.

Nurse. Nay hees a flower, in faith a very flower.

Old La. What fay you, can you loue the gentleman ?

This night you fhall behold him at our feast,

Read ore the volume of young Paris face,

And find delight, writ there with beauties pen,
Examine euery feuerall liniament,

And fee how one an other lends content :
And what obfcurde in this faire volume lies,
Find written in the margeant of his eyes.

This precious booke of loue, this vnbound louer,
To beautifie him, onely lacks a couer.

The fish liues in the fea, and tis much pride
For faire without, the faire within to hide :
That booke in manies eyes doth fhare the glorie,
That in gold clafpes, locks in the golden ftoric:
So fhall you share all that he doth possesse,
By hauing him, making your felfe no leffe.

Nurfe. No leffe nay bigger women grow by men.
Old La. Speake briefly can you like of Paris loue?
Juli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue.
But no more deepe will I endart mine eye
Then your confent giues ftrength to make fly.

Enter feruing.

Seruing. Maddam, the guests are come, fupper feru'd vp, you cald, my young lady afkt for, the nurfe curft in the pantrie, and euery thing in extremitie: I muft hence to wait, I befeech you follow ftraight.

Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet the countie ftaies.

Nurfe. Goe gyrle, feeke happie nights to happie dayes.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or fixe other mafkers, torch bearers.

Romeo. What shall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe? Or fhall we on without apologie?

VOL. IV.

many.

G

Ben.

Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixitie,
Weele haue no Cupid, hud winckt with a fkarfe,
Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath,
Skaring the ladies like a crow-keeper.
But let them measure vs by what they will,
Weele measure them a measure and be gone.

Rom. Giue me a torch, I am not for this ambling, Being but heauy I will beare the light.

Mercu. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance. Ro. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing fhooes With nimble foles, I haue a foule of lead So ftakes me to the ground I cannot moue. Mer. You are a louer, borrow Cupids wings, And fore with them aboue a common bound. Romeo. I am too fore enpearced with his fhaft, To foare with his light fethers, and fo bound, I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe, Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I finke.

Horatio. And to finke in it fhould you burthen loue, Too great oppreffion for a tender thing.

Romeo. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boyflerous, and it pricks like thorne. Mer. If loue be rough with you be rough with loue Prick loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe, Giue me a cafe to put my vifage in,

A vifor for a vifor, what care I

What curious eye doth quote deformities:

Here are the beetle browes fhall blush for me.
Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no fooner in,

But euery man betakes him to his legs,

Ro. A torch for me, let wantons light of heart Tickle the fenceleffe rufhes with their heeles:

For I am prouerbd with a graunfire phrafe,

*betake.