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[He reads the lift.]

Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; Count Anfelm, and his beauteous fifters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and bis lovely neices; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, bis wife and daughters; my fair neice Rofaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his coufin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.

-5 A fair affembly; whither fhould they come? Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither? to fupper?

Serv. To our house.
Rom. Whofe houfe?

Serv. My mafter's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have afk'd you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the Houfe of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you merry.

Ben. At this fame ancient Feaft of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rofaline, whom thou so lov'st;
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither, and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with fome that I fhall fhow,
And I will make thee think thy Swan a Crow.


s A fair offembly; whither from the Servant's answer, than

Should they come?

Serv. Up

Rom. Whither? to fupper? Serv. To our boufe. ] Romeo had read over the lift of invited guests; but how fhould he know they were invited to fupper? This comes much more aptly

Romeo's question; and must undoubtedly be placed to him. WARBURTON.

When a man reads a lift of guests, he knows that they are invited to fomething, and, without any extraordinary good fortune, may guefs, to a fupper.


Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains fuch falfhoods, then turn tears to fires!
And thefe, who, often drown'd, could never die,
Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love! th' all feeing Sun
Ne'er faw her match, fince firft the world begun.
Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, none elfe being

Herfelf pois'd with herself, in either eye;
But in thofe cryftal fcales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady-love against fome other maid,
That I will fhew you, fhining at this feast,
And she will shew fcant well, that now fhews beft.
Rom. I'll go along, no fuch fight to be fhewn;
But to rejoice in fplendor of mine own.

La. Cap.


Changes to Capulet's House.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.


URSE, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.


Nurfe. 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?

6-let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against fome other maid,] But the comparison was not betwixt the love that Romeo's mistress paid him, and the perfon of any other young woman; but betwixt Re

meo's mistress herself, and fome other that fhould be match'd againft her. The poet therefore muft certainly have wrote;

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Your lady-love against Some other maid.



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-Nurfe, give leave a while, we must talk in fecret-Nurfe, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou fhalt hear our counfel. Thou know'ft, my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurfe. 'Faith I can tell her age unto an hour.

La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurfe. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet 7 to my teen be it fpoken, I have but four;) fhe's not fourteen; how long is it now to Lammas-tide?

La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days.

Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the year, come Lammas-eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Sufan and the (God reft all chriftian fouls!) were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God, fhe was too good for me. But as I faid, on Lammas-eve at night fhall fhe be fourteen, that fhall fhe, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and fhe was wean'd; I never fhall 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 Dovehoufe wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua. -Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did tafte the worm-wood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to fee it teachy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the Dove-houfe'twas no need, I trow, to bid me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then he could stand alone; nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and

7-to my teen] To my forrow.


waddled all about; for even the day before she 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, an' I fhould live a thousand years, I fhould not forget it: Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he? and, pretty fool, it stinted, and said,


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

Nurfe. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to think it fhould leave crying, and fay, ay; and yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's ftone; a perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall' ft upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not; Julé? it flinted, and faid, ay. Jul. And stint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his grace!

Thou waft the prettiest Babe, that e'er I nurt.
An' I might live to fee thee married once,

I have my wish.

La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very


I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How ftands your difpofition to be married?
Jul. It is an hour that I dream not of.

Nurse. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe, &c.] This fpeech and tautology is not in the first edition. POPE.

9 It is an hour.] The modern editors all give it is an honour.

I have reftored the genuine word, which is more feemly from a girl to her mother. Your, fire, and fuch words as are vulgarly uttered in two fyllables, are used as diffyllables by Shakespeare.

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Nurfe. An hour? were not I thine only nurse, I'd fay, thou hadft fuck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you

Here in Verona, ladies of efteem,

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 feeks you for his love.

Nurfe. A man, young lady, lady, fuch a man
As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.

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

This night you fhall 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 fee, how one another lends Content :
And what obfcur'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 fhare the Glory,
That in gold clafps locks in the golden Story.
So, fhall you share all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, making yourfelf no lefs.

'La. Cap. What fuy you, &c.] This ridiculous fpeech is entirely added fince the first edition.


• That in gold cl fps licks in the

golden Story.] The golden fory is perhaps the golden legend,

a book in the darker ages of popery much read, and doubtless often exquifitely embellished, but of which Canus, one of the popish doctors, proclaims the author to have been homo ferrei oris, plumbei cordis.


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