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fellow; I can read.

      [He reads the letter.]

      Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;

      County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters;

      The lady widow of Utruvio;

      Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces;

      Mercutio and his brother Valentine;

      Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters;

      My fair niece Rosaline and Livia;

      Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt;

      Lucio and the lively Helena.

      A fair assembly. [Gives back the paper] Whither should they come?

Servant

      Up.

Romeo

      Whither to supper?

Servant

      To our house.

Romeo

      Whose house?

Servant

      My master’s.

Romeo

      Indeed I should have ask’d you that before.

Servant

      Now I’ll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.

      [Exit.]

Benvolio

      At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s

      Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov’st;

      With all the admired beauties of Verona.

      Go thither and with unattainted eye,

      Compare her face with some that I shall show,

      And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Romeo

      When the devout religion of mine eye

      Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire;

      And these who, often drown’d, could never die,

      Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars.

      One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun

      Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.

Benvolio

      Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,

      Herself pois’d with herself in either eye:

      But in that crystal scales let there be weigh’d

      Your lady’s love against some other maid

      That I will show you shining at this feast,

      And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

Romeo

      I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown,

      But to rejoice in splendour of my own.

      [Exeunt.]

      Scene III

      Room in Capulet’s House. Enter Lady Capulet

      and Nurse.

Lady Capulet

      Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me.

Nurse

      Now, 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.

Juliet

      How now, who calls?

Nurse

      Your mother.

Juliet

      Madam, I am here. What is your will?

Lady Capulet

      This 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 knowest my daughter’s of a pretty age.

Nurse

      Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

Lady Capulet

      She’s not fourteen.

Nurse

      I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth,

      And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,

      She is not fourteen. How long is it now

      To Lammas-tide?

Lady Capulet

      A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse

      Even 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 dovehouse 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 the dug!

      Shake, quoth the dovehouse: ’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 th’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, and 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 Capulet

      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 it brow

      A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone;

      A perilous 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’.

Juliet

      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:

      And

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