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How long is it now to Lammas-tide ?

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La Cap. A fortnight and odd days.

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Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the year, come Laminas eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Sufan and the (God rest all Chriftian fouls !) were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God, the was too good for me. But as I faid, on Lammas-eve at night fhall fhe be fourteen, that fhall fhe, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and the was wean'd; I never fhall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon that day; for I had then laid wormwood to my dug, fitting in the fun under the dovehoufe wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantuanay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did tate.the wormwood on the ripple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to fee it teachy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the Dove-house'twas no need I trow to bid me trudge; and fince ⚫ that time it is eleven years, for then fhe could ftand alone; nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before the broke her brow, and then my husband (God be with his foul, a' was a merry man) took up the child; Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face; thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not, Julé ? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and faid Ay. To fee now how a jest shall come about.-I warrant, an' I fhould live a thou• fand years, I fhould not forget it. Wilt thou net, Julé? quoth he; and, pretty fool, it ftinted, and faid .Ay.'

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La. Cap. Enough of this, I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurfe. Yes, Madam: yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and fay Ay; and yet I warrant, it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's ftone: a perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall'ft upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not, Julé ? it ftinted, and faid Ay.

Jul. And fint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, fay I. Nurfe. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his Thou waft the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd. [grace! An' I might live to fee thee married once,

I have my wish.

La Cap. And that fime marriage is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How ftands your difpofition to be married?,

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

Narfe An honour? were not I thine only nurfe,
I'd fay thou had’it fuck'd wisdom from thy teat.
La Cap Well, think of marriage now; younger
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
[than you

Are made already mothers. By my count,
I was your mother much upon thefe years
That you are now a maid Thus, then, in brief;
The valiant Paris feeks you for his love.

Nurfe. A man, young Lady, Lady, fuch a man As all the world Why, he's a man of wax.

La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurfe. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What fay you, can you like the gentleman?
This night you thall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Prais' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine ev'ry fev'ral lineament,

And fee how one another lends content:
And what obfcur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.

This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover..

The fith lives in the fea, and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many eyes doth fhare the glory..
That in gold claips locks in the golden story,
So thall you fhare all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, inaking yourself no less.

Nurfe. No lefs nay, bigger; women grow by men.
La. ap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move.
But no more deep will I indart mine eye,
Than your confent gives ftrength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up you call'd, my young Lady afk'd for, the nurse curs'd

B 2

in

I must

in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. bence to wait. I befeech you, follow strait, * [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Aftreet before Capulet's houfe. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other mafkers, torch-bearers, and drums.

Rom. What, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our excuse? Or fhall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a fearf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper:
Nor a without book prologue faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.
But let them meafure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a meafure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing fhoes With nimble foles; I have a foul of lead, So ftakes me to the ground, I cannot move. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And foar with them above a common bound, Rom I am too fore enpearced with his fhaft, To foar with his light feathers: and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you burthen love: Too great oppreffion for a tender thing!

Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boilt'rous; and it pricks like thorn. Mer If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down Give me a cafe to put my vifage in? [Pulling off his mask. A vifard for a vifard? what care I,

What curious eye doth quote deformities?

Here are the beetle-brows fhall bluth for me.

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La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the county fays.
Nurfe, Go, girl, fck haj py nights to happy days.

SCENE, &c.

Ben.

Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no fooner in, But every man betake him to his legs..

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons light of heart, Tickle the fenfelefs rufhes with their heels;

For I am proverb'd with a grandfire phrase ; - -
I'll be a candle-holder and look on. *.

Rom. I dream'd a dream to-night.

Mer. And fo did I.

Rom. Well; what was your's?

Mer. That dreamers often lye.

Rom.

In bed afleep; while they do dream

things true.

Mer. O then I fee Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fancy's midwife, and the comes In fhape no bigger than an agat-itone On the forefinger of an alderman; • Drawn with a team of little atomies, 'Athwart mens' notes as they lie afleep: Her waggon fpokes made of long fpinners' legs; The cover of the wings of grathoppers; The traces of the fmallett fpider's web; The collars of the moonfhine's watry beams 'Her whip of cricket's bone; the lath of film Her waggoner a ímall grey coated gnat, 'Not half fo big as a round little worm, • Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazel nut,

• Made by the joiner 1quirrel, or old grub,
• Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers:

and look on.

The game was ne'er f fair, and I am done.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word;

If thou art done, we'll draw thee from the mire;

Or, fave your reverence, love, wherein thou fticket
Up to thine ears: come we burn day-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay

We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment fits
Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits.
Rom. And we mean weil in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one ask?

Rom. I dream'd a dream, &c.

Ane

And in this stage fhe gallops, night by night,

• Thro' lovers' brains, and then they dream of love ::
On courtiers' knces, that dream on curtfies firait :
O'er lawyers' fingers, who ftrait dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who ftrait on kiffes dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with fweet-meats tainted are.
Sometimes the gallops o'er a courtier's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit :
And fometimes comes fhe with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling the parion as he lics afleep;
Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes fhe driveth o'er a foldier's neck,
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanith blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes;~
And being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plates the manes of horfes in the night,
And cakes the elf-locks in foul fluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them firft to bear;
Making them women of good carriage.

This is fhe

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Thou talk'st of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing, but vain phantafy;
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more unconftant than the wind; who wooes
Ev'n now the frozen bofom of the north,

And being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.

Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from our felves;
Supper is done, and we fhall come too late.
Rom. I fear too early; for my mind mifgives,
Some confequence, yet hanging in the ftars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term.

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