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Rom. For your broken shin
Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and G.o.dden good fellow, Ser. G.o.dgiG.o.den, I pray sir can you read?
Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie
Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you read any thing you see?
Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language
Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry
Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.
He reades the Letter.
Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena.
A faire a.s.sembly, whither should they come?
Ser. Vp
Rom. Whither? to supper?
Ser. To our house
Rom. Whose house?
Ser. My Maisters
Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before
Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.
Enter.
Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of Verona, Go thither and with vnattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow
Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die, Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers.
One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun
Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid That I will show you, shining at this Feast, And she shew scant sh.e.l.l, well, that now shewes best
Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne.
Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.
Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me
Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, G.o.d forbid, Where's this Girle? what Iuliet?
Enter Iuliet
Iuliet. How now, who calls?
Nur. Your Mother
Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will?
Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue remembred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest my daughter's of a prety age
Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre
Wife. Shee's not fourteene
Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, And yet to my teene be it spoken, I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene.
How long is it now to Lammas tide?
Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes
Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she, G.o.d rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well Susan is with G.o.d, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th'
roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband G.o.d be with his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about.
I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not Iule quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said I
Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace
Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow, a b.u.mpe as big as a young c.o.c.krels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It stinted: and said I
Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I
Nur. Peace I haue done: G.o.d marke thee too his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish
Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet, How stands your disposition to be Married?
Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of
Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat
Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in Verona, Ladies of esteeme, Are made already Mothers. By my count I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue
Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why hee's a man of waxe
Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower
Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower
Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young Paris face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall liniament, And see how one another lends content: And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the Margent of his eyes.
This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer.
The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse
Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men
Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue?
Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue.
But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye.
Enter a Seruing man.
Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight.
Enter.
Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies