The Same. A Room in CAPULET'S House. |
| |
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse. |
| Lady 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, ladybird! |
| God forbid! where's this girl? what, Juliet! |
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Enter JULIET. |
| Jul. How now! who calls? |
| Nurse. Your mother. |
| Jul. Madam, I am here. |
| What is your will? |
| Lady Cap. 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 know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. |
| Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. |
| Lady Cap. 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 Cap. 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 high lone; 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 halidom, |
| 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 years, |
| I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; |
| And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.' |
| Lady 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 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.' |
| 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 o'er I nursed: |
| An I might live to see thee married once, |
| I have my wish. |
| Lady 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. |
| Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, |
| I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. |
| Lady 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. |
| Lady Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. |
| Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. |
| Lady 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 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 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. |
| Lady 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. |
| |
Enter a Servant. |
| 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. |
| Lady Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the county stays. |
| Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt. |
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