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But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady-love against some other maid, (7)
That I will shew you, shining at this feast,
And she will shew scant well, that now shews beft.

Rom. I'll go along, no such fight to be shewn,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to. Capulet's House.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse. La.Cap. N

URSE, where's my daughter? call her.

forth to me. Nurs. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve years 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. Your mother:
Ful. Madam, I am here, what is your will ?"

La. Car. This is the matter -Nurse, give leave a while, 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.

Nure. I'M lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet to my teen be it spoken, I have but four;) she's not fourteen; how long is it now to. Lummas-tide ?

La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse. Even or odd; of all days in the year, come Lammas. eve at night, Mall she be fourteen. Svfan and (7) --let there be weigb'd

Your lady's love against some orber maid.] Bùt the comparison was not to be betwixt the love that Romeo's mistress paid him, and the : person of any other young woman: but betwixt Romeo's mistress her. felf, and some other that should be match'd againft ber. The Poet : therefore must certainly have wrote ;

Your lady-love against some other maid... So the comparison stands right, and fengibly

thie

the (God reft all christian souls!) were of an age. Well,
Sujan is with God, she was too good for me. But as I
said, on Lammas-eve at night shall the be fourteen, that
thall she, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the
earthquake now eleven years, and she was wean'd, I
never shall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon
that day; for I had then laid worm-wood to my dug,
fitting in the sun under the dove house wall, my Lord
and you were then at Mantuanay, I do bear
brain. But, as I said, when it did taste the worm wood
on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
to see it teachy, 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 th' rood, she could.
have run, and waddled all about; for even the day be-
fore 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 haft more wit, wilt thou
not, Julé ? and, by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left
crying, and faid, Ay. To see now, how a jelt shall come
about.-1. warrant, an? I should live a thousand years,
I should not forget it: Wilt thou not, Julė ? quoth he:
and, pretty fool, it stinted, and said,

Ay.
La. Cap. Enough of this,l pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, Madam ; yet. I cannot chuse: 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 perilous knock, and it cried bitterly Yea, quoth my husband, fall’lt upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou. not, Julé ? it stinted, and said, Ay.

Jul. And stint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurse. Peace, I have done : God mark thee to his,

grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe, that e'er I nurst.
An' I might live to see thea: married once,
I have my wish.
La.. Car. And that 1. me marriage is the very theme..

1

I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your difpofition 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 hadft Luck'd wisdom from thy teat.

Lai Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger: Here in Verona, ladies of efteem,

[than you 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.

La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not such a flower.
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What say you, can you like the gentle--

man ? (8)
This 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 ev'ry fev'ral lineament,
And see, how one another lends content:
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,-
To beautify him only lacks a cover.
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden itory.
So, shall you Mare all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurse. No less ? Nay, bigger ; women grow by mena
La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move.

(8) What say you? Can you like the gentleman?] This speech of i lady Capulet, tho I cannot readily commend it, yet I could not conceive I had any authority to leave it out. I have resor'd many. other passages in this play, not of the best Atamp, but for the same: reasonë.

But:

But no more deep will I indart mine eye,
Than your confent gives strength to make it Ay.

Enter a Servant.
Serru. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd up
you call’d, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse curst in
the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I muft hence
to wait; I beseech you, follow ftrait.

La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County itays.
Nurse. Go, girl, feek happy nights to happy days.

[Exeunt.

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SCENE, a Street before Capulet's House.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix

other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums.
Rom. HAT, fhall this speech be spoke for

Or shall we on without apology? [excuse.?
Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper: (9)
Nor a without book prologue faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.
But let them meafure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling.
Being but heavy, I will bear the light,

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing shoes
With nimble foles ; I have a foul of lead,
:So ftakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Mer. You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's wings,
And foar with them above a common bound.

(9) Scaring the ladies like a cowkeeper.] I led Mr. Pope into this mistaken reading, which I once thought the true-one, before I fully understood the passage. But I have prov'd, that crow-keeper, which posteffes all the old copies, is the genuine reading of the Poet, in my .49th gote on King. Lear,

Rom.

Rom. I am too fore enpearced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers : and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe :
Under love's heavy burden do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, should you burden love :
Too great oppression for a tender thing!

Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boistrous; and it pricks like thorn.

M:r. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in;

[Pulling of his mak. A visor for a visor! what care 1, What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, But ev'ry man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandfire-phrase ; I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire; Or, save your reverence, love, wherein thou stick'it Up to thine.ears : come, we burn day-light, ho.

Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer.. I mean, Sir, in delay
We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment fits
Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits.

Rom. And we mean well in going to this malk;
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer, Why, may one ask ?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did I.
Rom. Well; what was yours ?
Mer.. That dreamers often lie.
Rom.- In bed afleep; while they do dream things true.

Mer.

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