SCENE III.
A room in Capulet's house.
Enter lady Capulet, and Nurse.
La. Cap.
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse.
Now, by my maiden-head,—at twelve year 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 awhile,
We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
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 fourteen.
Nurse.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,—
And yet, 5 note
to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,—
She's not fourteen: How long is't now to Lammas-tide?
La. Cap.
A fortnight, and odd days.
Nurse.
Even or odd, of all days in the year,
-- 26 --
Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen.
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 fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake6 note now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,—I never shall forget it,—
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting i' the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua:—
Nay, I do bear a brain7 note
:—but, as I said,
When it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!
To see it teachy, and fall out 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 stand alone8 note; nay, by the rood,
-- 27 --
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, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth he:
And, pretty fool, 9 note
it stinted, and said—Ay.
La. Cap.
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
1 noteNurse.
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 stone;
A par'lous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'st to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said—Ay.
-- 28 --
Jul.
And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurse.
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
La. Cap.
Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of:—Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married?
Jul.
2 note
It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse.
An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
3 noteLa. 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
That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief;—
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Nurse.
A man, young lady! lady, such a man,
As all the world—Why, he's a man of wax4 note
.
La. Cap.
Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
-- 29 --
5 note
Nurse.
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
6 noteLa. Cap.
What say you? can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume7 note
of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
8 note
Examine every several lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes9 note.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide:
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
1 note
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
-- 30 --
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.
Nurse.
No less? 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 endart mine eye2 note,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant.
3 noteServ.
Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd
up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse
curs'd in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I
must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
La. Cap.
We follow thee.—Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse.
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
