Imatges de pàgina
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Enter PUBLIUS and others.

Pub. What is your will?

Tit. Know you these two?

Pub. The empress' sons,

I take them,-Chiron and Demetrius.

Tit. Fie, Publius, fle! thou art too much deceived; The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name: And therefore bind them, gentle Publius; Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them.Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, And now I find it; therefore bind them sure; And stop their mouths if they begin to cry.

[Exit TITUS. PUBLIUS, &c., lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS.

Chi. Villains, forbear! we are the empress' sons. Pub. And therefore do we what we are commanded.— Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast. Re-enter TITUS ANDRONICES, with LAVINIA; she bearing a basin, and he a knife.

Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound.Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter.O villains, Chiron and Demetrius!

[mud;

Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with
This goodly summer with your winter mix'd.
You kill'd her husband; and, for that vile fault,
Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death,
My hand cut off, and made a merry jest:

Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear
Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity,
Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced.
What would you say if I should let you speak?
Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace.
Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you.
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats,
Whilst that Lavinia 'twixt her stumps doth hold
The basin that receives your guilty blood.
You know your mother means to feast with me,
And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad,
Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste;
And of the paste a coffin will I rear,

And make two pasties of your shameful heads;
And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam,
Like to the earth, swallow her own increase.
This is the feast that I have bid her to,
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on;
For worse than Philomel you used my daughter,
And worse than Progne I will be revenged:
And now prepare your throats.-Lavinia, come,
[He cuts their throats.
Receive the blood: and when that they are dead,
Let me go grind their bones to powder small,
And with this hateful liquor temper it;
And in that paste let their vile heads be baked.--
Come, come, be every one officious

To make this banquet; which I wish may prove
More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast.
So, now bring them in, for I will play the cook,
And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes.
[Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies.

SCENE III.-The same. A Pavilion, with tables, dc. Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON, prisoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.

1 Goth. And ours, with thine, befall what fortune will. Luc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;

Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him,
Till he be brought unto the empress' face,
For testimony of her foul proceedings:
And see the ambush of our friends be strong;
I fear the emperor means no good to us.
Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear,
And prompt me, that my tongue may u.ter forth
The venomous malice of my swelling heart!

Luc. Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave!-
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.-

[Exeunt Goths, with AARON. The trumpets shew the emperor is at hand.

Flourish.

Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with ÆMILIUS. Tribunes,
Senators, and others.

Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns than one?
Luc. What boots it thee to call thyself a sun?
Mar. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle;

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Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; [queen; And welcome, all; although the cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it.

Sat. Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus?
Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well,
To entertain your highness, and your empress.
Tam. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus.
Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, you were.-
My lord the emperor, resolve me this:
Was it well done of rash Virginius,

To slay his daughter with his own right hand,
Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflower'd?
Sat. It was, Andronicus.

Tit. Your reason, mighty lord?

Sat. Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows. Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me, most wretched, to perform the like:Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee;

[He kills LAVINIA.

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Tam. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?
Tit. Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius:

They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue:
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.
Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently.

Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point. [Killing TAMORA.

Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed!

[Killing Tirus. Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed! [Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. The people in confusion disperse. MARCUS, LUCIUS, and their partisans, ascend the steps before TITUS house.

Mar. You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, O, let me teach you how to knit agam This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, These broken limbs again into one body.

Sen. Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself,
And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to,
Like a forlorn and desperate castaway,

Do shameful execution on herself.
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age,
Grave witnesses of true experience,

Cannot induce you to attend my words,

[To Luo.] Speak, Rome's dear friend: as erst our ancestor, When with his solemn tongue he did discourse,

To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear,

The story of that baleful burning night,
When subtle Greeks surprised king Priam's Troy;
Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears,

Or who hath brought the fatal engine in,
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound.-
My heart is not compact of flint, nor steel;
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief,

But floods of tears will drown my oratory,
And break my very utterance, even i' the time
When it should move you to attend me most,
Lending your kind commiseration.

Here is a captain, let him tell the tale;
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak.
Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you,
That cursed Chiron and Demetrius

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Were they that murdered our emperor's brother;
And they it was that ravished our sister:
For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded;
Our father's tears despised, and basely cozen'd
Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out,
And sent her enemies unto the grave.
Lastly, myself unkindly banished,

The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relief among Rome's enemies;
Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears,
And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend:
And I am the turn'd-forth, be it known to you,
That have preserved her welfare in my blood;
And from her bosom took the enemy's point,
Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body.
Alas! you know I am no vaunter, I;

My scars can witness, dumb although they are,
That my report is just and full of truth.
But, soft! methinks I do digress too much,
Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me;

For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
Mar. Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child,-
[Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant.
Of this was Tamora delivered;

The issue of an irreligious Moor,

Chief architect and plotter of these woes:
The villain is alive in Titus' house,

Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true.

Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge
These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience,
Or more than any living man could bear.

Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans?
Have we done aught amiss? Shew us wherein,
And, from the place where you behold us now,

The poor remainder of Andronici

Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down,
And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains,
And make a mutual closure of our house.
Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall,
Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

Emil. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome,
And bring our emperor gently in thy hand,-
Lucius our emperor; for well I know
The common voice do cry, it shall be so.

[emperor!

Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail! Rome's royal

LUCIUS, &c., descend.

Mar. [To Attendants.] Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house,

And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,

To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death,
As punishment for his most wicked life. [Erit Attend.
Rom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail! Rome's gra-
cious governor!

Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so,
To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe!
But, gentle people, give me aim a while,-
For nature puts me to a heavy task;-

Stand all aloof;-but, uncle, draw you near, To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,

[Kisses TITUS.
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face,
The last true duties of thy noble son!
Mar. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss,
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips:

O, were the sum of these that I should pay
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them!

Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well: Many a time he danced thee on his knee,

Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow;
Many a matter hath he told to thee,

Meet and agreeing with thine infancy;

In that respect then, like a loving child,
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring,
Because kind nature doth require it so:

Friends should associate friends in grief and woe:
Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave;

Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Boy. O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart Would I were dead, so you did live again!O lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.

Re-enter Attendants, with AARON.

1 Rom. You sad Andronici, have done with woes; Give sentence on this execrable wretch,

That hath been breeder of these dire events.

Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; There let him stand, and rave and cry for food:

If any one relieves or pities him,

For the offence he dies. This is our doom:

Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth.

Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb?

I am no baby, I, that with base prayers

I should repent the evils I have done:

Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did
Would I perform, if I might have my will:
If one good deed in all my life I did,

I do repent it from my very soul.

Luc. Some loving friends convey the emperor hence,
And give him burial in his father's grave:
My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
Be closed in our household's monument.
As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,

No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey:
Her life was beast-like and devoid of pity;
And, being so, shall have like want of pity.
See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor,
From whom our heavy haps had their beginning:
Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
That like events may ne'er it ruinate.

[Exeunt

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FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order.

BALTHAZAR, Servant to ROMEO.

SAMPSON,

GREGORY, Servants to CAPULET.

ABRAM, Servant to MONTAGUR.
An Apothecary.
Three Musicians.
CHORUS.

Boy, Page to PARIS.
PETER, an Officer.

LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to MONTAGUE.
LADY CAPULET, Wife to CAPULET.
JULIET, Daughter to CAPULET.
Nurse to JULIET.

Citizens of Verona; male and female Relations to both Houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and attendants.

SCENE, During the greater Part of the Play, in VERONA: once, in the fifth Act, at MANTUA.

PROLOGUE.

Chor. Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage.

Which, but their children's end, naught could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which, if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

ACT I

SCENE I-A Public Place.

Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with swords and

bucklers.

Sam. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
Gre. No, for then we should be colliers.

Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar.

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand to it: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gre. That shews thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:-therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their

men.

Som. 'Tis all one, I will shew myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the meu, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads.

Gre. The heads of the maids?

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt.

Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Gre. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John.-Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.

Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee.

Gre. How? turn thy back and run?

Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry: I fear thee!

Sem. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

Gre. I will frown as I pass by; and let them take it as they list.

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Enter several partisans of both Houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs."

1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! Enter CAPULET, in his gown; and LADY CAPULET. Cap. What noise is this?-Give me my long sword. [sword? La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!--Why call you for a Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

ho!

Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain Capulet!-Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foc.

Enter PRINCE, with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins,On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince.Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets; And made Verona's ancient citizens

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Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away :-
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;-
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.-
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?-Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared;
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted either part.

La. Mon. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

sun

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore,
That westward rooteth from the city's side,-
So early walking did I see your son:
Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I. measuring his affections by my own,-
That most are busied when they are most alone,-
Pursued my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen.
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs:
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove.
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him
Ben. Have you importuned him by any means?
Mon. Both by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself.-I will not say how true,-

But to himself so secret and so close,

So far from sounding and discovery,

As is the bud bit with an envious worm,

Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter ROMEO, at a distance.

Ben. See where he comes: so please you, step aside: I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay. To hear true shrift.-Come, Madam, let's away. [Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY.

Ben. Good morrow, cousin.

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O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!-

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Dost thou not laugh?

Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what?

Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it press'd With more of thine: this love that thou hast shewn Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.Farewell, my coz.

Ben. Soft! I will go along;

[Go`ng.

An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut. I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

Ben. Tell me in sadness who she is you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
Ben. Groan! why, no;

But sadly tell me who.

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will,Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!

In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. Rom. A right good marksman!-And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd. From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terins, Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty; ouly poor.

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.

Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will still live

chaste?

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge For beauty, starved with her severity, [waste; Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair: She hath forsworn to love; and in that voW Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be ruled by me, forget to think of her Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties.

Rom. 'Tis the way

To call hers, exquisite, in question more:
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;
Shew me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve, 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 lived 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:
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 oid 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 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 burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; Turn giddy, and be hoip 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.
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 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 read anything 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."

A fair assembly: [Gives back the note.] whither should Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house?

Serv. My master's.

[they come?

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. Rest you merry!

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 shew,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

[Exit.

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 heretics, 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 poised with herself in either eye:
But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady-love against some other maid
That I will shew you shining at this feast,

And she shall scant shew well, that now shews best.
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shewn,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.

[Exeunt.

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Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year I bade her come.-What, lamb what, lady-bird! fold, | God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet!

Enter JULIET.

Jul. How now, who calls? Nurse. Your mother. Jul. Madam, I am here. What is your will?

[a while.

La. Cap. This is the matter,-Nurse, give leave
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 I—
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, I 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,
To bid me trudge.

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 :
And then my husband,-God be with his soul!
'A was a merry man,-took up the child:
"Yea," quoth he, "dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule?" and, by my holy-dame,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said- Ay :"
To see now, how a jest shall come about!

I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

I never should forget it: "Wilt thou not, Jule?” quoth And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said- Ay."

[he;

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:" And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone; A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.

Yea," quoth my husband, "fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?" it stinted, and said-“Ay."

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: [grace! An I might live to see thee married once, 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 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 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.

[you,

[man?

La. Cap.. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleThis night you shall behold him at our feast: Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what obscured in this fair volume lies, Find written in the margin of his eyes.

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