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How long is it now to Lammas-tide ?

La. Cap. A fortnigbt and odd days.

Nurse • Even or odd, of all days in the year, come • Lammas eve at night, fhall the be fourteen. Susan ' and she (God reft all Christian souls !) were of an age, Well, Susan is with God, she was too good for

But, as I said, on Lammas-eve at night thall the be fourteen, that (hall the, marry, I remember it well. ' 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years, and he • was wean'd; I never lhall forget it; of all the days in • the year, upon that day ; for t had then laid worm• wood to my dug, sitting in the sun under the dove. • house wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua

nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, when it did • taste the wormwood on the nipple of my dug, and felt • it bitter, pretty fool, to see it teachy, and fall qnt with • the dug. Shake, quoth the Dove-house-'twas no • need I trow to bid me trudge; and since that time it • is eleven years, for then she could ftand alone ; nay, 6 by th'rood, she could have run, and waddled all about; • for even the day before she broke her brow, and then ..my husbaod (God be with his soul, a' was a merry

man took up the child; Yea, quotb be, dost thou fail upon thy face ; thou wilt fall backward when thou

haft more wit, wilt thou not Julé ? and by asy holy • dam, the pretty wretch leti crying, and faid Ay. To • see now how a jelt shall come about. I warrant, • an' i should live a thousand years, I fhould not forget • it. Wilt thou not, Julé ? quoth he; and, pretty fool, o it stinted, and said Ay.'

La. uap. Enough of this, I pray, thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, Madam ; yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and say 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 hutband, fall'It upon thy face? thou wilt fall backwards when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not Julé ? it tunted, and laid Ay.

Jul. And stint thee 100, pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done : God mark thee to his Thou wait the prettielt babe that e'er I nurs’d. [grace ! An's might live to see thee married once,

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I bave my wish.

La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, caughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?

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

Nurje. An honour? were not I thine only nurse, I'd lay chou hadît suck'd wildom 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 niother much upon these

years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief ; The valiant Paris fecks you for his love.

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

La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower,
La. Cap What say you, can you like the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast.
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine ev'ry sev'ral lineament,
And fee how one another lends content:
And what obscur'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 fish lives in the fea, and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold claps Locks in the golden story.
So shall you share all that he doth poisess,
By having him, making yourself no less,
Nurse. No lefs? nay, bigger ; women grow by men.
La. Cap. 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 mide eye,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant. Ser. Madam, the gueits are come, supper servd up, you call'd, my young Lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd

VOL, VIII,

in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait. I bescech you, follow strait. * [Exeunt.

SCE N E V. A street before Capulet's house. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix

other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums.

Rom. M'hat, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or Niall we on without apology ?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
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 measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, 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 shoes
With nimble soles ; I have a soul of lead,
So fakes 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 shaft,
To foar with his light feathers: and fo bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe :
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And to link in it, should you burthen love :
Too great oppression for a tender thing!

Rom. Is love a tender ching? it is too rough, Too rude, too boist'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 visage in ? [Pulling of his mat.
A visard for a vifard ? what care 1,
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows shall bluth for me.

follow strait.
La. Cap: We follow thee. Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse. Go, girl, scek happy nights to happy days.
S CE N E douce

*

Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
But ev'ry man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me, Let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;
For I am proverbid with a grandfire-phrase ;
I'll be a candle holder and look on.

Rom. I dreani'd a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did. l.
Rom. Well; what was your's ?
Mer. That dreamers often lye.
Rom. In bed alleep ; while they do dream.

things true.
Mer, O-then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
• She is the fancy's midwife, and the comes
• In shape no bigger than an agat. stone
• On the fore-finger of an alderman;
• Drawn with a team of little atomies,
• Athwart mens' noses as they lie asleep:
• Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
• The cover of the wings of grafhoppers ;
• The traces of the smallest spider's web;
• The collars of the moonthine's watry beams;
• Her whip of cricket's bone: the lash of filin;
• Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
• Not hall lo big as a round little worm,
6 Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid.
• fler chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
• Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub;
6 Time out of mind the fairies' coach.makers,

and look on..
The game was ne'er so 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, save your reverence, love, wherein thou (tickelt
Up to thine ears: come, we burn diy-light, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's pot fo.

Mer. I niean, 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.ouce in our fine wits.

Rom. And we mean well in going to this mak;
But 'cis no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one ask ?
Rem I dream'd a dream, bo.

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And in this flate fire gallops, night by night,

Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; « On courtiers' knees, that dream on courtsies (irait :

O’er lawyers' fingers, who strait dreain on fees : • 'O'er ladies' lips, who Arait ön kisles dream ; . Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,

Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are. • Sometimes the galloys o'er a curtier's nose;" • And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: . And sometimes comes the with a tithe-pig's tail, • Tickling the parson as he lies fleep;

Then dreams he of another benefice, • Soinetines the driveth o'er a foldier's neck, • And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats, • Of breaches, ambuicadoes, Spanish blades, . Of healths five fathoin deep; and then anon

Drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes ; • And being thus, frightest, swears a prayer or two, • And ficeps again. This is that very Wab • That places the manes of horses in the night, • And cakes the elf-locks in foul flittish hairs, • Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes, This is the hay, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them, and learns them first 10 bear ; · Making them women of good carriage. 6 This is the

kom, Peace, peace, Merculio, peace; Thou talk It of nothing.

Mier. True, I talk of dreams ;
Which are the chil tren of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing, but vain phantasy !
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more unconsant than the wind; who woves
Ev'n now the frozen boson of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew dropping louth.

Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
Supper is done, and we hall come too late.

kom. I fear too early; for my mind misgives,
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels; and expire the term

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