Cap.
Lord Mountague is bound, as well as I,
In Penalty alike; and 'tis not hard
For Men so old as we to keep the Peace.

Paris.
Of honourable Reck'ning are you both,
And pity 'tis you liv'd at Odds so long:
But, now my Lord, what say you to my Suit?

Cap.
But saying o'er what I have said before;
My Child is yet a Stranger in the World;
She hath not seen the Change of fourteen Years:
Let two more Summers wither in their Pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a Bride.

Paris.
Younger than she are happy Mothers made.

Cap.
And too soon marr'd are those so early made;
The Earth hath swallow'd all my Hopes; but she.—
Yonder's my Lady, whom I have intreated

To sound my Juliet on this purpos'd Match;
Women best understand each other's Minds.
Let us leave her to work upon my Daughter.
Then woo her gentle Paris, get her Heart;
My Will to her Consent is but a Part.
If she agree, within her Scope of Choice,
Lies my Consent, and fair-according Voice. [Exeunt. Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

L. Cap.
Nurse, where's my Daughter? Call her forth to me.

Nurse.

Now by my Maiden-head (at twelve Years old I had one) I'll bid her come. What Lamb! What Lady-Bird! God forbid—Where's this Girl? What Juliet!

Jul.

How now, who calls?

Nurse.

Your Mother.

Jul.

Madam, I am here, what is your Will?

L. 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 shalt hear my Counsel:
Thou know'st my Daughter's of a pretty Age.

Nurse.

Faith I can tell her Age to an Hour.

L. Cap.

She's but fifteen.

Nurse.

I'll lay fourteen of my Teeth, and yet to my Teeth be it spoken, I have but four;— She's not fourteen! How long is it now to Lammas-Tide?

L. 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 fifteen; 'tis since the Earthquake now twelve Years, and she was wean'd; I never shall forget it of all the Days in the Year. And then she cou'd stand alone! Nay by the Rood, she cou'd have run, and waddled all about: For even the Day before, she broke her

Brow, and then, my Husband (Peace be with his Soul, he 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 Dame, the pretty Wench left crying, and said aye! To see now how a Jest shou'd come about,— I warrant, an I shou'd live a thousand Years. I shou'd not forget it, wilt thou not Jule, quoth he? and, pretty Fool! It stinted, and said, aye!

L. Cap.

Enough of this: I prithee hold thy Peace.

Nurse.

Well, I have done; Heaven mark thee to his Grace:—Thou wert the prettiest Babe that e'er I nurs'd. An I might live to see thee married once, I have my Wish.

L. Cap.

And that same Marriage is the very Theam, I came to talk of: Tell me, Daughter Juliet, how stands your Disposition to be married?

Juliet.
It is an Honour that I dream not of.

Nurse.
An Honour! Were not I thy only Nurse,
I'd say thou had'st suck'd Wisdom from thy Teat:
An Honour! Eh!

L. 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—Ah! Lady, such a Man,
As all the World!—Why he's a Man of Wax.

L. Cap.
Verona's Summer hath not such a Flower.

Nurse.
Nay, he is a Flower; in faith, a very Flower.

L. Cap.
Speak briefly; can you like of Paris' Love?

Juliet.
If Happiness be seated in Content,
Or that my being bless'd can make you so,

Let me implore it on my Knees; I am
Your only Child; and still, through all the Course
Of my past Life, have been obedient too:
And, as you've ever been a loving Parent,
And bred me up with watchful tenderest Care,
Which never cost me hitherto a Tear,
Name not that Paris any more: Indeed!
I cannot love him.

L. Cap.
Why?

Juliet.
Indeed I cannot,

L. Cap.
Oh early Disobedience!
Debauch'd already to her Sex's Folly;
Perverseness, and untoward head-strong Will.

Juliet.
Think me not so; I gladly shall submit
to any Thing, nay, must submit to all;
Yet think a little, e'er you fell my Peace:
The Rites of Marriage are of mighty Moment;
And shou'd you violate a Thing so sacred,
Into a lawful Rape, and load my Soul,
With hateful Bonds, which never can grow easy:
How miserable am I like to be!

L. Cap.
Has then some other taken up your heart,
And banish'd Duty, as an Exile, thence?
What sensual lewd Companion of the Night,
Have you been holding Conversation with,
From open Window, at a midnight Hour,
When wanton Wishes wou'd not let you sleep?

Juliet.
If I should love, is that a Fault, in one
So young as I? I cannot guess the Cause,—
But, when you first nam'd Paris for my Love,
My Heart shrunk back, as you had done it wrong.

L. Cap.
No more of this; 'twill make thy Father mad:
If thou art mine, resolve upon Compliance,
Or think no more to rest beneath my Roofs.

Juliet.
Will you then quite cast off your once loved Juliet?
And turn me like a Vagrant out of Doors,
To wander up and down Verona's Streets;

And beg my Bread with Sorrow? Can I bear
The proud and hard Revilings of a slave,
Fat with his Master's Plenty, when I ask
A little Pity for my pinching Wants?
Shall I endure the cold, wet windy Night,
To seek a Shelter under dropping Eves,
A Porch my Bed, a Threshold for my Pillow,
Shiv'ring and starved, for want of Warmth and Food,
Swell'd with my Sighs, and almost choak'd with Tears?
Must I, at the uncharitable Gates,
Of proud great Men implore Relief in vain?
Must I bear all this?
Because I am not Mistress of my Heart,
Or cannot love according to your liking?

L. Cap.
Graze where thou wilt, but think no more of me,
Till thy Obedience welcome thy Return. [Exit.

Juliet.
Alas! That ever Heaven shou'd practise Stratagems,
Upon so soft a Subject as myself!
What say'st thou? Hast thou not a Word of Joy?
Some Comfort Nurse in this Extremity.

Nurse.
Marry, and there's but need on't: Odds my Life,
Well Romeo is a Man, and so is Paris;

Ah! But Romeo's Lip! And then Paris's Nose and Forehead! But then Romeo's Eye again; how it will sparkle, and twinkle, and trowl and leer! But to see Romeo on Horseback! But to see Paris walk or dance! such a Leg, such a Foot! Then Romeo's Shape, and Motion; Ah! Well Romeo's the Man, must be the Man, and shall be the Man.

Juliet.
He's by his Father's Nature rough and fierce,
And knows not yet the Follies of my Love;
And when he does, perhaps, may scorn and hate me.

Nurse.

Ah never fear it, he's a sweet young Man, and thou shalt have him—ne'er pine nor teize thy pretty Heart about it.—What! I have been thy Nurse these fourteen Years, and I shou'd know what's good for thee.

Juliet.
I prithee! Leave me to myself awhile. [Exit Nurse.
'Tis hardly yet within two Hours of Day:
I'll to my Window which o'erhangs the Garden.
Behold the Queen of Night
Shines fair, with all her virgin Stars about her,
Not one amongst 'em all a Friend to Juliet;
Yet, by their Course a while I'll guide my Steps,
And think what Course, my wretched State must take.
Oh! Romeo! Romeo! The all-seeing Sun
Ne'er saw thy Equal since the World begun, [Exit.

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