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She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, 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, doft thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy-dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said-Ay:
To see now, how a jest Mall come about !
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth he:
And, pretty fool, it ftinted, 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: And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone; A par'lous knock; and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall ft upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward, when thou comift to age; Wilt thou nat, Jule? it stinted, and said —Ay.

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Thou waft the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd : An I might live to see thee married once, I have


La, Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of :-Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married ?

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurje. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadft fuck'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.
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 :
Read o’er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin 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's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

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 gives strength to make it fly.

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Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, fupper served up, you call’d, my young lady alk'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.



A Street,

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or fix

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

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

Rom. I am too fore enpierced with his shaft,
To foar 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 sink 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 boift'rous; and it pricks like thorn.

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love ;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.-
Give me a cafe to put my visage in : [Putting on a mask.
A visor for a visor !-what care I,
What curious


quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in,
But every 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
Of this (fave reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears.-Come, we burn day-light, ho.

Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

I mean, fir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning; for our judgement sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. ·

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

Why, may one alk?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

And so did I.
Rom. Well, what was yours ?

That dreamers often lie.' Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true. с


Mer. O, then, I fee, queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife ; and the comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie afleep: Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web; The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams : Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state the gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love : On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: O’er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees : O’er ladies lips, who straight on kiffes dream; Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nofe, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit : And sometimes comes she with a tythe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice : Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes ;

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