SCENE IV. Wood near VERONA. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. Mer. That we should find this melancholy Cupid Lock'd in some gloomy covert, under key Of cautionary silence; with his arms Threaded, like these cross boughs, in sorrow's knot. Ben. Good-morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben, But new struck nine. Rom. Ah, me! sad hours seem long, Mer. Pry'thee, what sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Rom. Not having that, which having makes them short, Ben. In love, me seems! Alas, that love so gentle to the view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Where shall we dine!-O me-Cousin Benvolio, Here's much to do with hate, but more with love: This love feel I; but such my froward fate, That there I love where most I ought to hate. Dost thou not laugh, my friend!-Oh Juliet! Juliet! Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppression, Mer. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love? Mer. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. And And still 'tis hopeless love, and endless sorrow. Mer. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. He that is strucken blind cannot forget Where all the beauties of Verona meet. Go there, and with an unattainted eye, Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Rom. I will along, Mercutio. Mer. 'Tis well. Look to behold at this high feast, Earth-treading stars, that might din heaven's lights, Hear all, all see, try all; and like her most, That most shall merit thee. Rom. My mind is chang'd. I will not go to-night. Mer. Why, may one ask? Rom. I dream'd a dream last night. Mer. Ha ha! a dream! O then I see queen Mab hath been with you. In shape no bigger than an agat-stone Drawn Drawn with the team of little atomies, Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners legs; Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love; Rom. Peace, peace, Thou talk'st of nothing. Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from ourselves, And we shall come too late. Rom, I fear too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, From this night's revels-lead, gallant friends; Let come what may, once more I will behold My Juliet's eyes, drink deeper of affliction: [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. SCENE. V. CAPULET's House. Enter Lady CAPULET and NURSE. L. Cap. NURSE, where's my daughter? call her forth Nurse. Now (by my maidenhead at twelve years old I bade her come; what lamb, what lady-bird, God forbid where's this girl? what Juliet? Enter JULIET. Jul. How now? who calls? Nurse. Your mother. Jul. Madam, I am here, what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter -Nurse give leave 'a while, we must talk in secret: Nurse, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou shal't he ar mycounsel: thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. Faith I can tell her age unto an hour. La Cap. She's not eighteen. Nurse. I'll lay eighteen of my teeth, and yet to my teeth be it spoken, I have but eight, she's not eighteen; how long is it now to Lammas-tide ? La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all the days in the year come, Lammas-eve at night shall she be eighteen. 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 eighteen, that shall she, marry, marry, I remember it well. "Tis since the earthquake now fifteen years, and she was wean'd, I never shall forget it, of all the days in the year upon that day; for I had then laid wormwood to my breast, sitting in the sun, under the dove-house wall; my lord and you were - were then at Mantua nay, I do bear a brain. But as I said, when it did taste the wormwood on the nipple of the breast, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to see it teachy and fall out with the breast. Shake, quoth the dovehouse- -'twas no need I trow to bid me trudge; and since that time it is fifteen years, for then she could's d alone, nay, by th' 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 holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and said, ay; to see now how a jest shall come about I warrant, and I should live a thousand years I should not forget it; wilt thou not, Jule, quoth he? and pretty fool, it stinted, and said, ay. Jul. And stint thee too, I pray thee, peace. Nurse. Peace, I have done; God mark thee to his grace. Thou wast the prettiest babe that ere I nurst. An' I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. La. Cap. And that same marriage is the very theme, Jul. It is an honour that I dreamt not of. 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 Nurse. A man, young lady: lady such a man Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. VOL. 1. E Enter |