Romeo and Juliet (Wisehouse Classics Edition) - William Shakespeare

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be burnt for liars!One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sunNe’er saw her match since first the world begun.BenvolioTut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself poised with herself in either eye:But in that crystal scales let there be weigh’dYour lady’s love against some other maidThat I will show you shining at this feast,And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
RomeoI’ll go along, no such sight to be shown,But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
Exeunt
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse
Lady CapuletNurse, where’s my daughter? call her forth to me.
NurseNow, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!
Enter Juliet
JulietHow now! who calls?
NurseYour mother.
JulietMadam, I am here. What is your will?
Lady CapuletThis is the matter:— Nurse, give leave awhile,We must talk in secret:— nurse, come back again;I have remember’d me, thou’s hear our counsel.Thou know’st my daughter’s of a pretty age.
NurseFaith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Lady CapuletShe’s not fourteen.
NurseI’ll lay fourteen of my teeth —And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four —She is not fourteen. How long is it nowTo Lammas-tide?
Lady CapuletA fortnight and odd days.
NurseEven or odd, of all days in the year,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 earthquake 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 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 nippleOf my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,To see it tetchy 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 alone; nay, by the 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 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 holidame,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, it stinted and said ‘Ay.’
Lady CapuletEnough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
NurseYes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,To think it should leave crying and say ‘Ay.’And yet, I warrant, it had upon its browA bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone;A parlous 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?’ it stinted and said ‘Ay.’
JulietAnd stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
NursePeace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!Thou wast the prettiest babe that e’er I nursed:An I might live to see thee married once,I have my wish.
Lady CapuletMarry, that ‘marry’ is the very themeI came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,How stands your disposition to be married?
JulietIt is an honour that I dream not of.
NurseAn honour! were not I thine only nurse,I would say thou hadst suck’d wisdom from thy teat.
Lady CapuletWell, 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 yearsThat you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
NurseA man, young lady! lady, such a manAs all the world — why, he’s a man of wax.
Lady CapuletVerona’s summer hath not such a flower.
NurseNay, he’s a flower; in faith, a very flower.
Lady CapuletWhat say you? can you love 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 every married lineament,And see how one another lends contentAnd what obscured in this fair volume liesFind 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, and ’tis much prideFor fair without the fair within to hide:That book in many’s 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.
NurseNo less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.
Lady CapuletSpeak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love?
JulietI’ll look to like, if looking liking move:But no more deep will I endart mine eyeThan your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant
ServantMadam, 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.
Lady CapuletWe follow thee.
Exit Servant
Juliet, the county stays.
NurseGo, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
Exeunt
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and
others
RomeoWhat, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
or shall we on without a apology?
BenvolioThe date is out of such prolixity:
We’ll have no Cupid hoodwink’d with a scarf,Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath,Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spokeAfter the prompter, for our entrance:But let them measure us by what they will;We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone.
RomeoGive me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
MercutioNay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
RomeoNot I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
With nimble soles: I have a soul of leadSo stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
MercutioYou are a lover; borrow Cupid’s wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
RomeoI am too sore enpierced with his shaft
To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.
MercutioAnd, to sink in it, should you burden love;
Too great oppression for a tender thing.
RomeoIs love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
MercutioIf love be rough with you, be rough with love;Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.Give me a case to put my visage in:A visor for a visor! what care IWhat curious eye doth quote deformities?Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
BenvolioCome, knock and enter; and no sooner in,But every man betake him to his legs.
RomeoA torch for me: let wantons light of heartTickle the senseless rushes with their heels,For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase;I’ll be a candle-holder, and look on.The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done.
MercutioTut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word:If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mireOf this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick’stUp to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
RomeoNay, that’s not so.
MercutioI mean, sir, in delayWe waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.Take our good meaning, for our judgment sitsFive times in that ere once in our five wits.
RomeoAnd

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