The moſt Lamentable Tragedie
backward when thou commeſt to age: wilt thou not Iule? It ſtinted, and ſaid I.
Iuli. And ſtint thou too, I pray thee Nurſe, ſay I.
Nurſe. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace, thou waſt the prettiest Babe that ere I nurſt, and I might liue to ſee thee marryed once. I haue my wiſh.
Old La. Marry that marry is the very Theame
I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet,
How ſtands your diſpoſitions to be marryed?
Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of.
Nurſe. An houre, were not I onle Nurſe, I would ſay thou thou hadſt ſuckt they wiſdome from thy teat.
Old La. Well thinke of Marriage now, younger than you
Here in Verona, Ladies of eſteeme,
Are made already mothers by my count,
I was your mother, much vpon theſe yeares
That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe:
The valiant Paris ſeekes you for his Loue.
Nurſe. A man yong Lady, Lady, ſuch a man as all the world. Why hees a man of waxe.
Old La. Veronas Summer hath not ſuch a flower,
Nurſe. Nay, hees a flower, in faith a very flower,
Old La. What ſay you, can you loue the Gentleman?
This night you ſhall behold him at our Feaſt,
Read ore the volume of yong Paris face,
And find delight, writ there with beauties Pen,
Examine euery ſeuerall liniament,
And ſee how one an other lends content:
And what obſcurde in this faire Volume lyes,
Find written in the margeant of his eyes.
This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer,
To beautifie him, onely lackes a Couer.
The fiſh liues in the Sea, and tis much pride
For faire without, the faire within to hide:
That Booke in manies eyes doth ſhare the glorie,
That in gold clapſes, locks in the golden ſtorie:
