Mer. Why, may, one ask? Rom. I dream'd a dream last night. O then I fee queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fancy's mid-wife, and the comes In shape no bigger than an agat-ftone On the fore-finger of an Alderman, Drawn with the team of little atomies, Athwart mens noses as they lie afleep: Her waggon-fpokes made of long spinners legs; The cover, of the wings of grafhoppers; The traces, of the smallest fpider's web; The collars, of the moon-fhine's watry beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: Her waggoner a fmall grey-coated gnat, Not half fo big as a round little worm, Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazel nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies coach-makers: And in this state fhe gallops night by night, Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love; On courtiers knees, that dream on curt'fies ftraight: O'er lawyers fingers, who ftraight dream on fees; O'er ladies lips, who ftraight on kiffes dream; Sometimes the gallops o'er a lawyer's nose, And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit: And fometimes comes fhe with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling the parson as he lies afleep; Then dreams he of another benefice; Sometimes the driveth o'er a foldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two, And fleeps again. This is that Mab Rom. Peace, peace, Thou talk'ft of nothing. Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which Which are the children of an idle brain, : Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from ourselves, And we fhall come too late. >Rom. I fear too early: for my mind mifgives [Exeunt Mer. and Ben, La. Cap. SCENE V. Capulet's Houfe. Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse. URSE, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurfe. 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? Nurfe. Your mother. Jul. Madam, I am here, what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter Nurse, give leave a while, we must talk in fecret; Nurfe, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou fhalt hear my counsel: thou know'ft my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurfe. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Nurfe. Nurfe. I'll lay eighteen of my teeth, and yet to my teeth be it spoken, I have but eight, she's not eighteen ; how long is it now to Lammas tide? La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. Well But as I Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the year come Lammas eve at night fhall fhe be eighteen. Sufan and fhe (God reft all chriftian fouls) were of an age. Sufan is with God; fhe was too good for me. faid, on Lammas-eve at night shall she be eighteen, that shall she, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now fifteen Years, and fhe was wean'd; I never shall forget it, of all the days in the year upon that day: for I had then laid wormwood to my breft, fitting in the fun under the dove-houfe-wall; my lord and you were then at Mantua nay, I do bear a brain. But as I faid, when it did tafte the wormwood on the nipple of the breast, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to fee it teachy and fall out with the breast. Shake, quoth the dovehoufe――'twas no need I trow, to bid me trudge; and fince that time it is fifteen years, for then she could stand alone, nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and wadled all about; for even the day before fhe broke her brow; and then my husband (God be with his foul, a' was a merry man,) took up the child: yea, quoth he, doft thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit? wilt thou not, Julé? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and faid, ay; To fee now how a jeft fhall come about I warrant, and I should live a thoufand Years, I fhould not forget it: Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he and pretty fool, it ftinted, and said ay. Ful. And ftint thee too, I pray thee, peace. Nurfe. Peace, I have done; God mark thee to his grace. Thou waft the prettiest babe that ere I nurst: An' I might live to fee thee married once, I have my wish. La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theme Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. I'd I'd say thou badft fuck'd 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 thefe years That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief, Nurfe. A man, young lady, lady, such a man Than your confent gives ftrength to make it fly. Enter Gregory. Greg. Madam, new guefts are come, and brave ones, all in masks. You are call'd; my young lady afk'd for, the Nurle cars'd in the pantry; fupper almost ready to be ferv'd up, and every thing in extremity. I must hence and wait. The Capulets, Ladies, Guefts, and Makers, are difcover'd. Cap. W Elcome, Gentlemen. Ladies, that have your feet Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you. A A whifpering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please; 'tis gone; 'tis gone; 'tis gone! 2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. Cap. What, man! 'tis not fo much, 'tis not fo much! 'Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecoft as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years and then we mask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his fon is elder, Sir: His fon is thirty. Cap. Will you tell me that? His fon was but a ward two years ago. Rom. Coufin Benvolio, do you mark that lady which Doth enrich the hand of yonder gentleman, Ben. I do. Rom. Oh, fhe doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night, Like a rich Jewel in an Æthiops' ear; The measure done, I'll watch her to her place, Tib. This, by his voice, should be a Mountague, To fleer and fcorn at our folemnity? Now by the stock and honour of my race, To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin. Cap. Why, how now, kinfman, wherefore ftorm you thus? Tib. Uncle, this is a Mountague, our foe; A villain that is hither come in fpite, To fcorn and flout at our folemnity. Cap. Young Romeo, is't? Tib. That villain Romeo. Cap. |