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me trudge; and fince that time it is eleven years, for then she could ftand alone; nay, by th' rood, fhe could have run, and waddled all about; for even the day before fhe broke her brow, and then my husband, (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, Julé? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and faid, 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, Julé, quoth he? and, pretty fool, it ftinted, and faid, ay.

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, Fulé? it ftinted, and faid, ay.

ful. And tint thee too, I pray thee, nurfe, fay I. Nurfe. 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 theam I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How ftands your difpofition to be married?

Jut. It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurfe. An honour? were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadst fuck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. 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

The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Nurfe. A man, young lady, lady, fuch a man
As all the world- Why, he's a man of wax.
La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurfe. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What fay you, can you like the Gentle-

man?

This Night you shall behold him at our Feaft;
Read o'er the Volume of young Paris' Face,
And find Delight writ there with Beauty's pen;
Examine ev'ry fev'ral Lineament,

And fee, how one another lends Content:
And what obfcur❜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 Eyes doth fhare the Glory,
That in gold clafps locks in the golden Story.
So, fhall you share all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, making your felf no lefs.

Nurfe. No lefs? Nay, bigger; Women grow by Men.
La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move.
But no more deep will I indart mine eye,

Than your confent gives ftrength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurfe curft in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I muft hence to wait; I befeech you, follow strait.

La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays. Nurfe. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE, a Street before Capulet's bouse.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums.

Rom. WH

WHAT, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe?

Or fhall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity.
We'll have no Cupid, hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper:
Nor a without-book prologue faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.
But let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling.
Being but heavy, I will bear the Light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me; you have dancing fhoes With nimble foles; I have a foul of lead, So ftakes me to the ground, I cannot move. Mer. You are a Lover; borrow Cupid's Wings, And foar with them above a common Bound. Rom. I am too fore enpearced with his Shaft, To foar with his light Feathers: and fo bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull Woe: Under Love's heavy burthen do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you burthen Love : Too great Oppreffion for a tender Thing!

Rom. Is Love a tender Thing It is too rough, Too rude, too boift'rous; and it pricks like Thorn. Mer. If Love be rough with you, be rough with

Love;

Prick Love for pricking, and you beat Love down.
Give me a Cafe to put my vifage in;

A Vilor for a Vifor!

[Pulling off his Mask.

what care I,

What curious eye doth quote deformities?

Here

Here are the beetle-brows fhall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no fooner in, But ev'ry man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the fenfelefs rufhes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandfire-phrase; I'll be be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was ne'er fo fair, and I am done.

.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the conftable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire ; Or, fave your reverence, Love, wherein thou ftickest Up to thine ears: come, we burn day-light, ho. Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay

We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment fits
Five times in That, ere once in our fine wits.
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask
But 'tis no wit to go."

Mer. Why, may one ask?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to night.
Mer. And fo did I.

Rom. Well; what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed afleep; while they do dream things

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true.

Mer. O, then I fee, Queen Mab hath been with

you. (4)

(4) 0, then 1 fee, Queen Mab hath been with you:

She

She is the Fairies' Midwife.] Thus begins that admirable Speech upon the Effects of the Imagination in Dreams. But, Queen Mab the Faries' Midwife? What is the then Queen of? Why, the Fairies. What! and their Midwife too? Sure, this is a wonderful Condefcenfion in her Royal Highness. But this is not the greatest of the Abfurdities. Let us see upon what Occafion the is introduced, and under what Quality. Why, as a Being that has great Power over human Imaginations. But then, according to the Laws of common Senfe, if he has any Title given her, must not that Title have refe

sence

She is the Fancy's mid-wife, and she comes
In fhape no bigger than an agat-ftone
On the fore-finger of an alderman;
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart mens noses as they lie asleep:

Her waggon-fpokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grafhoppers;
The traces, of the fmalleft fpider's web;
The collars, of the moonfhine's watry beams;
Her whip, of crickets' bone; the lash, of film;
Her waggoner a fmall grey-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm,
Prickt from the lazy finger of a maid.
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joyner fquirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers:
And in this State fhe gallops, night by night,
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
On courtiers' knees, that dream on curtfies ftrait:
O'er lawyers' fingers, who ftrait dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who ftrait on kiffes dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with fweet-meats tainted are.
Sometimes the gallops o'er a lawyer's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit:

rence to the Employment she is put upon? First, then, she is called Queen: which is very pertinent; for that designs her Power: Then fhe is called the Fairies' Midwife; but what has that to do with the Point in hand. If we would think that Shakespeare wrote Senfe, we must fay, he wrote the Fancy's Midwife: and this is a Title the most à propos in the World, as it introduces all that is faid afterwards of her Vagaries. Befides, it exactly quadrates with thefe Lines:

I talk of Dreams;

Which are the Children of an Idle Brain,

Begot of nothing but vain Fantafie.

Thefe Dreams are begot upon Fantasie, and Mab is the Midwife to bring them forth. And Fancy's Midwife is a Phrafe altogether in the Manner of our Author,

Mr. Warburton.

And

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