Scene III.
A 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, lady-bird!—
[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 know'st 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
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 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 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.—
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.
Lady Capulet. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
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 thine only nurse,
I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
Lady Capulet. 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 .
Lady Capulet. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
Lady Capulet. 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' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen.
Examine every [married] lineament
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd 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], and 'tis much pride
For 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.
Speak briefly, can you [like of] Paris' love?
Juliet. I'll look to like, if looking liking move;
But no more deep will I [endart] mine eye
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant
Servant. 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.
Lady Capulet. We follow thee.—[Exit Servant.] Juliet, the [county] stays.
Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.