back the paper]:
whither should they come?
Servant. Up.
Romeo. Whither?
Servant. To supper; to our house.
Romeo. Whose house?
Servant. My master's.
Romeo. Indeed I should have ask'd you that before.
Servant. Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great rich
Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and
crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry!
[Exit.]
Benvolio. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline
whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona. Go
thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I
shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Romeo. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such
falsehood, then turn tears to fires; And these,--who, often drown'd,
could never die,-- Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer
than my love? the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the
world begun.
Benvolio. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with
herself in either eye: But in that 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.
Romeo. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in
splendour of my own.
[Exeunt.]
Scene III. Room in Capulet's House.
[Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.]
Lady Capulet. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse. Now, by my maidenhea,--at twelve year old,-- I bade her
come.--What, lamb! what ladybird!-- God forbid!--where's this
girl?--what, Juliet!
[Enter Juliet.]
Juliet. How now, who calls?
Nurse. Your mother.
Juliet. Madam, I am here. What is your will?
Lady Capulet. This is the matter,--Nurse, give leave awhile, We must
talk in secret: nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou's
hear our counsel. Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Lady Capulet. She's not fourteen.
Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- And yet, to my teen be it spoken,
I have but four,-- She is not fourteen. How long is it now To
Lammas-tide?
Lady Capulet. 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: And then my husband,--God be with his soul! 'A was a
merry man,--took up the child: 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy
face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not,
Jule?' and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying, and said
'Ay:' To see now how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should
live a thousand yeas, I never should forget it; 'Wilt thou not, Jule?'
quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said 'Ay.'
Lady Capulet. 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 cockerel's stone; A parlous knock; and it cried
bitterly. 'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall
backward when thou com'st to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted, and
said 'Ay.'
Juliet. 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: An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
Lady Capulet. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk
of.--Tell me, daughter Juliet, How
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