How long is it now to Lammas-tide ? La Cap. A fortnight and odd days. 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.' 6 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, Are made already mothers. By my count, 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. And fee how one another lends content: This precious book of love, this unbound lover, The fith lives in the fea, and 'tis much pride, Nurfe. No lefs nay, bigger; women grow by men. 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. 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. La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the county fays. 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 ; - - 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, 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 Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day. 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 :: 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, And being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from our felves; With this night's revels; and expire the term. Of |