La. Cap. ^note
Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse.
Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year ^note old,

I bade her come. ^note What, lamb! what, lady-bird!—
God forbid!—Where's this girl? What, Juliet! ^note Enter Juliet.

Jul.
How now! who calls?

Nurse.
Your mother.

Jul.
Madam, I am here. What is your will? ^{note note}

La. Cap. ^note
This is the matter. Nurse, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret:—nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's ^note hear our ^note counsel.
Thou know'st ^note my daughter's of a pretty age. ^note

Nurse.
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

La. Cap. ^note
She's not fourteen.

Nurse.
I'll lay fourteen of my ^note teeth,—
And yet, to my teen ^note be it spoken, I have but four,—
She is ^note not fourteen. How long is it ^note now
To Lammas-tide? ^note

La. Cap. ^note
A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse.
Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night shall ^note 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 ^note shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,—I never shall forget it—
Of all the days of the year ^note, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in ^note 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 tetchy, and fall out with ^note the dug!
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge.
And since that time it is eleven ^note years ^note;
For then she could ^note stand high-lone; ^note nay, by the ^note rood,
She could have run and waddled all about;
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband,—God be with ^note 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 ^note?’ and, by my holidame,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said ‘Ay.’
To see now how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an ^note I should ^note live a thousand years,
I never should forget it: ‘Wilt thou not, Jule ^note?’ quoth he;
And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said ‘Ay.’ ^note

La. Cap. ^note
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse.
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
To think it should leave crying, and say ‘Ay:’
And yet, I warrant, it had upon ^note it ^note brow
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
A perilous ^note knock; and it cried bitterly:
‘Yea,’ quoth my husband, ‘fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule ^note?’ it stinted, and said ‘Ay.’ ^note

Jul.
And stint thou ^note too, I pray thee, ^note nurse, say I.

Nurse.
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to ^note his grace!
Thou wast ^note the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
An ^note I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish. ^note

La. Cap. ^note
Marry, that ‘marry’ ^note is the very theme
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet ^note,
How stands your disposition ^note to be married?

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

Nurse.
An honour ^note! were not I thine ^note only nurse,
I would say ^note thou hadst suck'd wisdom ^note from thy teat. ^note

La. Cap. ^note
Well, think of marriage now; younger than you
Here in Verona ^note, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers. By ^note 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— ^notewhy, he's a man of wax. ^note

La. Cap. ^note
Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse.
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

La. Cap. ^note
What say you? can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' ^note face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married ^note lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscured in this fair volume lies
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea ^note; and 'tis much pride
For fair without the fair within ^note to hide:
That book in many's ^note eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story:
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him making yourself no less.

Nurse.
No less! nay, bigger: women ^note grow by men. ^note

La. Cap. ^note
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 ^note mine eye
Than your consent gives strength to make it ^note fly. Enter a Servingman. ^note

Serv.

Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in

the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight ^note.

La. Cap. ^note
We follow thee. [Exit Servingman. ^note] Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse.
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. ^note [Exeunt. ^note

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