But in that crystal scales, let there be weigh'd And she shall scant* show well, that now shows best. SCENE III-A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter LADY CAPULET and NURSE. [Exeunt. La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, 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? Nurse. Your mother. Jul. Madam, I am here, What is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile, 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. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teent be it spoken, I have but four,- To Lammas-tide? La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, And since that time it is eleven years: For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, * Scarce. To my scrrow. I. c. recollect. She could have run and waddled all about. I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth he: La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face? 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 ere I nursed: 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 off:-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 you, 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.‡ La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman ? Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; And see how one another lends content; And what obscured in this fair volume lies, * Stopped crying. + Favour. Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, The fish lives in the sea;* and 'tis much pride, That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger; women grow by men. Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays. 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, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;† Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But, let them measure 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. Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn. *I. e. is not yet caught. § A torchbearer was an appendage to every troop of maskers. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; [Putting on a mask. What curious eye doth quote* deformities? Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,- 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 Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears.-Come, we burn daylight, ho. Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask; 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, asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: * Observe. † It was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes. Midwife of the fairies; one of her employments being to steal new born children, in the night, and to substitute others in their place. On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives, Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels; and expire the term But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Ben. Strike, drum. SCENE V-A Hall in CAPULET'S House. Musicians waiting. Enter SERVANTS. LExeunt. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! * A place at court. + Locks of hair tangled in the night. |