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with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter `
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with `
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his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are `
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here writ, and can never find what names the writing person `
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hath `
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here writ. I must to the learned. In good time! `
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Enter Benvolio and Romeo. `
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`
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Ben. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; `
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One pain is lessoned by another's anguish; `
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Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; `
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One desperate grief cures with another's languish. `
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Take thou some new infection to thy eye, `
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And the rank poison of the old will die. `
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Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. `
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Ben. For what, I pray thee? `
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Rom. For your broken shin. `
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Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? `
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Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; `
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Shut up in Prison, kept without my food, `
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Whipp'd and tormented and- God-den, good fellow. `
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Serv. God gi' go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? `
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Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. `
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Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can `
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you `
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read anything you see? `
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Rom. Ay, If I know the letters and the language. `
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Serv. Ye say honestly. Rest you merry! `
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Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. He reads. `
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'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; `
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County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; `
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The lady widow of Vitruvio; `
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Signior Placentio and His lovely nieces; `
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Mercutio and his brother Valentine; `
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Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; `
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My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; `
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Signior Valentio and His cousin Tybalt; `
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Lucio and the lively Helena.' `
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`
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[Gives back the paper.] A fair assembly. Whither should they `
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come? `
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Serv. Up. `
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Rom. Whither? `
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Serv. To supper, to our house. `
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Rom. Whose house? `
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Serv. My master's. `
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Rom. Indeed I should have ask'd you that before. `
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Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great `
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rich `
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Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray `
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come `
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and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! Exit. `
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Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's `
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Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; `
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With all the admired beauties of Verona. `
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Go thither, and with unattainted eye `
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Compare her face with some that I shall show, `
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And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. `
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Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye `
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Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; `
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And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, `
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Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! `
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun `
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Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. `
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Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, `
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Herself pois'd with herself in either eye; `
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But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd `
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Your lady's love against some other maid `
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That I will show you shining at this feast, `
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And she shall scant show well that now seems best. `
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Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, `
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But to rejoice in splendour of my own. [Exeunt.] `
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Scene III. `
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Capulet's house. `
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`
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Enter Capulet's Wife, and Nurse. `
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Wife. Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me. `
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Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old, `
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I bade her come. What, lamb! what ladybird! `
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God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! `
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`
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Enter Juliet. `
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Jul. How now? Who calls? `
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Nurse. Your mother. `
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Jul. Madam, I am here. `
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What is your will? `
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Wife. This is the matter- Nurse, give leave awhile, `
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We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again; `
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I have rememb'red me, thou's hear our counsel. `
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Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age. `
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Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. `
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Wife. She's not fourteen. `
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Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth- `
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And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four- `
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She is not fourteen. How long is it now `
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To Lammastide? `
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Wife. A fortnight and odd days. `
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Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, `
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Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. `
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Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls!) `
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Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; `
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She was too good for me. But, as I said, `
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On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; `
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That shall she, marry; I remember it well. `
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'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; `
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And she was wean'd (I never shall forget it), `
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Of all the days of the year, upon that day; `
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For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, `
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Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall. `
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My lord and you were then at Mantua. `
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Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, `
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When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple `
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Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, `
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To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! `
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Shake, quoth the dovehouse! 'Twas no need, I trow, `
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To bid me trudge. `
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And since that time it is eleven years, `
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For then she could stand high-lone; nay, by th' rood, `
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She could have run and waddled all about; `
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For even the day before, she broke her brow; `
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And then my husband (God be with his soul! `
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'A was a merry man) took up the child. `
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'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? `
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Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; `
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Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidam, `
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The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay.' `
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To see now how a jest shall come about! `
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I warrant, an I should live a thousand yeas, `
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I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he, `
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And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said 'Ay.' `
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Wife. Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace. `
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Nurse. Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh `
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To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' `
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And yet, I warrant, it bad upon it brow `
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A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone; `
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A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly. `
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'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? `
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Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; `
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Wilt thou not, Jule?' It stinted, and said 'Ay.' `
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Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. `
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Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! `
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Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd. `
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An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. `
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Wife. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme `
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I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, `
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How stands your disposition to be married? `
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Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. `
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Nurse. An honour? Were not I thine only nurse, `
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I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. `
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Wife. Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you, `
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Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, `
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Are made already mothers. By my count, `
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I was your mother much upon these years `
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That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: `
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The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. `
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Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man `
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As all the world- why he's a man of wax. `
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Wife. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. `
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Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith- a very flower. `
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Wife. What say you? Can you love the gentleman? `
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This night you shall behold him at our feast. `
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Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, `
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And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; `
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Examine every married lineament, `
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And see how one another lends content; `
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And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies `
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Find written in the margent of his eyes, `
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This precious book of love, this unbound lover, `
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To beautify him only lacks a cover. `
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The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride `
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For fair without the fair within to hide. `
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That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, `
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That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; `
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So shall you share all that he doth possess, `
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By having him making yourself no less. `
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Nurse. No less? Nay, bigger! Women grow by men `
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Wife. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? `
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Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move; `
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But no more deep will I endart mine eye `
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Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. `
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`
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Enter Servingman. `
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`
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Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd up, you call'd, `
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my `
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young lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and `
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everything in extremity. I must hence to wait. I beseech you `
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follow straight. `
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Wife. We follow thee. Exit [Servingman]. `
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Juliet, the County stays. `
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Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. `
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Exeunt. `
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