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 pois'd with herself in either eye: But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you, shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well, that now shows best. Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A ROOM IN CAPULET'S HOUSE. Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurse. 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! La. Cap. 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. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, have but Nurse. four, She is not fourteen:-How long is it now 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!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: I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, he: And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay. 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: Jul. And stint thou 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 nurs'd: theme La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very 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 you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, 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 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 gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast: And see how one another lends content; The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride, C Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men. La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent give strength to make it fly. Enter a Servant. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. SCENE IV. A STREET. [Exeunt. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and Others. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf, |