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Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made.
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.
Ser. Find them out whofe names are written here? It is written, that the fhoemaker fhould meddle with his yard, and the taylor with his laft, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets. But I am fent to find those perfons whofe names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing perfon hath here writ. I muft to the learned. In good time.
Enter Benvolio and Romeo.
Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning,
One defperate grief cure with another's languish:
Rom. Your plantan leaf is excellent for that.
Rom. For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is a Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipt and tormented; and
Ser. God gi' good-e'en: I pray, Sir, can you read?
Good-e'en, good fellow.
Ser. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book; but, I pray, can you read any thing you see?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language
[He reads the letter.]
Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters: Count Anfelm and bis beauteous fifters; the Lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and bis lovely neices; Mercutio, and bis brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair neice Rofaline, Livia, Signior Valentio, and bis cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.
A fair affembly; whither fhould they come ?
Ser. To fupper to our house.
Rom. Whole houfe?
Ser. My mafter's.
Rom. Indeed I fhould have afkt you that before.
Ser. Now I'll tell you without asking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the houfe of Mountagues, I pray come and crafh a cup of wine. Reft you merry.
Ben. At this fame ancient feast of Capulet's,
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye 1.
Ben. Tut, tut, you faw her fair, none elfe being by,
Nurfe. Now, by my maiden-head, (at twelve years old) I bad her come; what, lamb! what, lady-bird! God forbid-where's this girl? what, Juliet!
Jul. How now, who calls?
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 remembred 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. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet 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 shall she be fourteen, Sufan and the (God reft all Christian 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 the be fourteen, that shall she,
marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and the was wean'd, I never fhall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon that day; for I had ther laid worm-wood to my dug, fitting in the fun under the dove-houfe wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantuabay, 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-house 'twas no need I trow to' bid me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then the could ftand alone, nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and wadled all about; for even the day before the 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, Fulé? 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 never fhould forget it: Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he and pretty fool, it ftinted, and faid, ay.
La. Cap. Enough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace. Nurfe. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chuse 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 hufband, fall'ft upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age; wilt thou not, fülé? it flinted, and faid, ay.
Ful. And flint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his grace, Thou waft the prettiest babe that e'er I nurst. An I might live to fee thee married once, I have my wifh.
La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you Here in Verona, Ladies of efteem,
Are made already mothers. By my count,
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.
Ser. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young Lady afk'd for, the nurse curft in the pantry, and every thing in extremity; I muft hence to wait, I befeech you follow. * [Exeunt.
SCENE V. A Street before Capulet's Houfe." Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other Mafkers, Torch-bearers, and Drummer.
Rom. What, fhall this fpeech be spoke for our excuse? Or fhall we on without apology?
Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity.
Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling.
- 1 befeech you follow.
L1, Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County flays.