Imatges de pÓgina
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Ser. Vp.

Ro. Whether to fupper?

Ser. To our house.

Ro. Whose house?

Ser. My mafters.

Ro. Indeed I should haue askt thee that before.

Ser. Now Il'e tel you without asking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you

merrie.

Ben. At this fame auncient feaft 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 thee thinke thy fwan a crow.
Ro. When the deuout religion of mine eye
Maintaines fuch falfhood, then turne teares to fire,
And these who often drownde could neuer die,
Tranfparent heretiques be burnt for liers
One fairer than my loue, the all seeing fonne
Nere faw her match, fince firft the world begun.
Ben. Tut you faw her faire none els being by,
Her felfe poyfd with her felfe in either eye :
But in that cristall scales let there be waide,
Your ladyes loue, against fome other maide

That I will fhew you fhining at this feast,

And fhe shall scant fhew well that now feemes best.
Rom. Ile goe along no fuch fight to be showne,
But to reioyce in fplendor of mine owne,

Enter

Enter Capulets wife and Nurce.

Wife. Nurce wher's my daughter call her forth to mee. Nurce. Now by my maiden head at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what lamb, what ladie bird, God forbid. Wher's this girle? what Iuliet.

Enter Iuliet.

Juliet. How now who cals?

Nurce. Your mother.

Iul. Madame I am here, what is your will?

W. This is the matter. Nurfe giue leaue a while, we must talke in fecret. Nurce come back again I haue remembred me, thou'fe heare our counfaile. Thou knoweft my daughters of a prettie age.

Nurce. Faith I can tell her age unto an houre.

Wife. Shee's not fourteene.

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

Wife. A fortnight and odde days.

Nurce. Euen or odde, of all dayes in the yeare come Lam

Sufan and she God rest Well Sufan is with God,

mas eue at night fhall fhe be fourteene. all chriftian foules were of an age. fhe was too good for me: But as I faid on Lammas eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall fhee marie I remember it well. Tis fince the earth-quake nowe eleauen 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 fun vnder the doue-houfe wall. My lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I do beare a braine: but as I faid, when it did taft the wormwood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty foole to fee it teachie and fall

out

out with dugge. Shake quoth the doue-house twas no need I trow to bid me trudge, and fince that time it is a leauen yeare: for then could Juliet ftande high lone, nay by the roode, fhee could haue wadled vp and downe, for euen the day before shee brake her brow, and then my husband God be with his foule, hee was a merrie man: doft thou fall forward Iuliet? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit: wilt thou not Iuliet? and by my hollidam, the pretty foole left crying and faid I. To fee how a ieaft shall come about, I warrant you if I fhould liue a hundred yeare, I neuer should forget it, wilt thou not luliet? and by my troth fhe ftinted and cried I.

Juliet. And ftint thou too, I prethee nurce fay I.

Nurce. Well goe thy waies, God marke thee for his grace, thou wert the prettiest babe that euer I nurft, might I but liue to fee thee married once, I haue my wifh.

Wife. And that fame marriage nurce, is the theame I meant to talke of tell me Iuliet, howe ftand you affected to be married?

Iul. It is an honor that I dreame not off.

Nurce. An honor! were not I thy onely nurce, I would fay thou hadst fuckt wifedome from thy teat.

Wife. Well girle, the noble countie Paris feekes thee for his wife.

Nurce. A man young ladie, ladie fuch a man as all the world, why he is a man of waxe.

Wife. Veronaes fummer hath not fuch a flower.

Nurce. Nay he is a flower, in faith a very flower.

Wife. Well Iuliet, how like you of Paris loue.
Juliet. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue,

But no more decpe will I engage mine eye,
Then your confent giues strength to make it flie.

Enter

Enter Clowne.

Clowne. Maddam you are cald for, fupper is readie, the nurce curst in the pantric, all thinges in extreamitie, make haft for I must be gone to waite.

Enter Mafkers with Romeo and a Page.

Ro. What shall this fpeech bee spoke for our excuse?
Or fhall we on without apologie.

Benuoleo. The date is out of fuch prolixitie,
Weele haue no Cupid hudwinckt with a scarfe,
Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper :
Nor no without booke prologue faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.
But let them measure vs by what they will,
Weele measure them a measure and be gone.

Rom. A torch for me I am not for this aumbling,
Beeing but heauie I will beare the light.

Mer. Beleeue me Romeo I muft haue you daunce.
Rom. 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 flirre,
Mer. Giue me a cafe to put my visage in,

A vifor for a vifor, what care I

What curious eye doth coate deformitie.

Rom. Giue me a torch, let wantons light of hart
Tickle the fenceles rufhes with their heeles:

For I am prouerbd with a grandfire phrase,
Ile be a candleholder and looke on,

The game was nere fo faire and I am done.

Mer. Tut dun's the mouse, the cunftable's old word, If thou beeft dun, weele draw thee from the mire

Of

Of this furreuerence loue wherein thou stickst.
Leaue this talke, we burne day light here.
Rom. Nay thats not fo.

Mer. I meane fir in delay,

We burne our lights by night, like lampes by day,
Take our good meaning for our judgement fits
Three times a day, ere once in her right wits.

Rom. So we meane well by going to this maske:
But tis no wit to goe.

Mer. Why Romeo may one asķe ?

Rom. I dreamt a dreame to night.
Mer. And fo did I.

Rom. Why what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed afleepe while they doe dreame things true.
Mer. Ah then I fee queen Mab hath bin with you.
Ben. Queen Mab whats fhe?

She is the fairies midwife and doth come

In fhape no bigger than an aggat stone
On the forefinger of a burgomafter,
Drawne with a teeme of little atomi,

A thwart mens nofes when they lie asleepe.
Her waggon spokes are made of spinners webs,
The couer, of the winges of grafhoppers,

The traces are the moone-fhine watrie beames,
The collers crickets bones, the lafh of filmes,
Her waggoner is a small gray coated flie
Not halfe fo big as is a little worme,

Pickt from the lafie finger of a maide,

And in this fort fhe gallops up and downe

Through louers braines, and then they dreame of loue.
O're courtiers knees: who ftrait on curfies dreame

O're ladies lips, who dreame on kisses strait :
Which oft the angrie Mab with blifters plagues,

Becaufe

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