He that is ftrucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eye-fight loft.
Shew me a mistress that is paffing fair;
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note,
Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair?
Farewel, thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
[Exeunt.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.

Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard
For men fo cld as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both,
And, pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds fo long:
But now, my Lord, what say you to my fuit?
Cap. But faying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
She hath not feen the change of fourteen years;
Let two more fummers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too foon marr'd are those so early made:
The earth hath fwallowed all my hopes but fhe.
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her confent is but a part;
If the agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my confent, and fair according voice:
This night, I hold an old accuftom'd feaft,
Whereto have invited many a guest,

Such as I love; and you, among the ftore,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor houfe, look to behold this night
Earth-trading stars that make dark heaven's light.
Such comfort as do lufty young men feel,
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping Winter treads, even fuch delight
Among fresh female buds fhall you this night

Inherit

Inherit at my houfe; hear all, all fee,

And like her moft, whose merit mot fhall be:
Which on more view of many, mine, being one,
-May ftand in number, tho' in reck'ning none.
Come, go with me. Go, firrah, trudge about,
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whofe names are written there; and to them fay,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

[Exeunt Capulet and Paris. Serv. Find them out whofe names are written here ? -It is written, that the Shoemaker fhould meddle with his yard, and the Taylor with his laft, the Fisher with his pencil, and the Painter with his nets. But I am fent to find thofe perfons whofe names are here writ; and can never find what names the writing perfon hath here writ. I muft to the Learned.-In good time,

Enter Benvolio and Romeo.

Ben Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is leffen'd by another's anguish : Turn giddy, and be help'd by backward turning; One defperate grief cure with another's languish : Take thou fome new infection to the eye,

And the rank poifon of the old will die.

Rom. Your plantan leaf is excellent for that.
Ben. For what, I pray thee?

Rom For your broken fhin.

Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is: Shut up in prifon, kept without my food,

Whipt and tormented; and-Good e'en, good fellow.
To the Servant.

Serv, God gi' good e'en: I pray, Sir, can you read?
Rom. Ay, mine own fortune is my mifery.
Serv. Perhaps, you have learn'd it without book:
but, I pray,

Can you read any thing you fee?

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
Serv. Ye fay honeftly, reft you merry.

Rom. Stay, fellow, I can read.

[He

{He reads the letter.]

Ignior Martino, and his wife and daughters: Count Anfelm and his beauteous fifters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rofaline; Livia; Signior Va lentio, and his coufin Tybalt; Lucio,and the lively Helena. A fair affembly; whither fhould they come ? (6) Serv. Up

Ram. Whither?

Serv. To fupper, to our house.
Rom. Whofe house?

Serv. My master's.

kom. Indeed, I should have askt you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without afking. My mafter is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the houfe of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Ret

you merry,

[Exit.

Ben. At this fame ancient feaft of Capulet's Sups the fair Rofaline, whom thou fo lov ft; With all th' admired beauties of Verona. Go thither, and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with fome that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy fwan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains fuch falfhoods, then turn tears to fires; And thefe, who, often drown'd, could never die, Tranfparent hereticks, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! th' all-feeing Sun Ne'er faw her match, fince first the world begun.

Ben. Tut! tut! you faw her fair, none elfe being by;

Herfelf pois'd with herself, in either eye:

(6) A fair affembly: whither should they come ? Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither? to fupper?

Serv. To our boufe.] Romeo had read over the lift of invited guests; but he must be a prophet, to know they were invited to fupper. This comes much more aptly from the fervant's anfwer, than Romeo's quef. sion; and must undoubtedly be placed to him.

Mr. Warburton.

But

But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady-love againft fome other maid, (7)
That I will fhew you, fhining at this feast,
And fhe will fhew fcant well, that now fhews beft.
Rom. I'll go along, no fuch fight to be shewn,
But to rejoice in fplendor of mine own.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Capulet's House.

Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.

La. Cap. NURSE, where's my daughter? call her

to me.

1

Nurfe. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve years old) I bade her come; what, lamb,-what, lady-bird, God. forbid!where's this girl? what, Juliet ?

Enter Juliet.

Jul. How now, who calls?

Nurse. Your mother.

ful. Madam, I am here, what is your will? La. Cap. This is the matter.

Nurfe, give leave a

while, we must talk in fecret; Nurfe, come back again,

I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel : thou know'ft my daughter's of a pretty age.

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

La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurfe. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, (and yet to my teen be it spoken, I have but four;) fhe's not fourteen; how long is it now to Lammas tide?

La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days.

year, come

Nurfe. Even or odd, of all days in the Lammas-eve at night, fhall fhe be fourteen. Safan and

(7)

let there be weigh'd

Your lady's love against some other maid.] But the comparison was not to be betwixt the love that Romeo's mistress paid him, and the perfon of any other young woman: but betwixt Romeo's miftrefs herfelf, and fome other that should be match'd against her. The Poet therefore must certainly have wrote;

Your lady love against fome other maid, So the comparison stands right, and senfibly.

The

the (God reft all chriftian fouls!) were of an age. Well, Sufan is with God, fhe was too good for me. But as I faid, on Lammas eve at night fhall fhe be fourteen, that fhall she, marry, I remember it well. 'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years, and she was wean'd, I never fhall forget it, of all the days in the year, upon that day; for I had then laid wormwood to my dug, fitting in the fun under the dove-houfe wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua-nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I faid, when it did tafte the wormwood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool, to fee it teachy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove houfe-'twas no need I trow, to bid me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then fhe could ftand alone; nay, by th' rood, she could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before the broke her brow, and then my hufband, (God be with his foul, a' was a merry man;) took up the child; Yea. quoth he, doft thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and said, Ay. To fee now, how a jeft fhall come about. I warrant, an' I should live a thousand years, I fhould not forget it: Wilt thou not ful? quoth he: and, pretty fool, it flinted, and faid, Ãy.

La. Cap. Enough of this, I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurfe. Yes, Madam; yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and fay, Ay; and yet, I warrant it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's ftone: a perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fall'ft upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not, Julé? it ftinted, and faid, Ay.

ful. And ftint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, fay I.
Nurse. Peace, I have done: God mark thee to his
grace!

Thou waft the prettieft babe, that e'er I nurst.
An' I might live to fee thee married once,

I have my wish.

La. Cap. And that fame marriage is the very theme

I came