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said, ay:

me trudge ; and since that time it is eleven years, for then she could stand alone ; nay, by th' rood, the 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 haft more wit, wilt thou not, Julé ? and by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left crying, and said, ay ; To see now, how a jest shall come about. I warrant, an' I should live a thousand years, I should not forget it : Wilt thou not, Julé, quoth he ? and, pretty fool, it ftinted, and

La. Cap. Enough of this, I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, Madam ; yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and say, ay; and yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow a bump as big as a young cockrel's stone: a perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, fallist upon thy face ? 'thou wilt fall backward when thou comeft to age, wilt thou not, julé ? it stinted, and said, ay.

Jul. And stint thee too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurse. Peace, I have done : God mark thee to his

grace!
Thou waft the prettiest Babe, that e'er I nurst.
An' I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

La. Cap. And that same marriage is the very theam
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married?

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

Nurse. An honour ? were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadît suck'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.

Nurse. A man, young lady, lady, such a man As all the world- -Why, he's a man of wax.

La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower:
Nurse. Nay, he's a flower ; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What say 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 sev'ral Lineament,
And see, 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 share the Glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden Story.
So, thall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making your self no less.

Nurse. No less ? 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 consent gives strength to make it fy.

Enter a Servant. Ser. Madam, the guests are come, fupper serv'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse 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 stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

[Exeunt.

SCENE,

WHA

SCENE, a Street before Capulet's boufe. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fax

other maskers, torch-bearers, and drums. Rom. WHAT, shall this speech be spoke for our

excufe?.
Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such 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 shoes
With nimble soles ; I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moye.

Mer. You are a Lover; borrow Cupid's Wings,
And soar with them above a common Bound.

Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his Shaft,
To foar with his light Feathers : and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull Woe:
Under Love's heavy burthen do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, should you burthen Love : Too great Oppression 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. Íf Love be rough with you, be rough with

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

[Pulling of his Mask A Visor for a Vifor! what care I, What curious eye doth quote deformities.

Here Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.

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

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes 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 so fair, and I am done.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word;
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire ; .
Or, fave your reverence, Love, wherein thou fickelt
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 so did I.
Rom. Well ; what was yours?
Mer.. That dreamers often lie.
Rom. - In bed asleep; while they do dream things

true. Mer. O, then I see, Queen: Mab hath been with you. (4)

She

(4) then I fee, Queen Mab hash been with you:

She is the Fairies' Midwife.] Thus begins that admirable Speech upon the Effects of the Imagination in Dreams. But, Queen Mat the Faries? Midwife? What is the then Queen of? Why, the Fairies. What! and their Midwife too! Sure, this is a wonderful Condescension in her Royal Highness. But this is not the greatest of the Absurdities. Let us see upon what Occasion the is introduced, and under what Quality. Why, as a Being that has great Power over human Imaginationis.

But then, ascording to the Laws of common Sense, if Die has any Title giren her, must not that Title have refe

sence

She is the Fancy's mid-wife, and the comes
In shape no bigger than an agat-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman ;
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart mens“ noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ;;
The cover, of the wings of grashoppers ;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams;
Her whip, of crickets' bone; the lash, of film ;,
Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so 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 squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers :
And in this State she gallops, night by night,
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love :
On courtiers' knees, that dream on curtfies strait :
O'er lawyers' fingers, who strait dream on fees :
O'er ladies' lips, who strait on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted are.
Sometimes the gallops o'er a lawyer's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit :

icace to the Employment she is put upon? First, then, she is
ealled Queen: which is very pertinent ; for that deligns her
Power : Then she is called the Fairies' Midwife ; but what
has that to do with the point in hand?. If we would think
that Shakespeare wrote Sense, we must say, he wrote
the Fancy's Midwife : and this is a Title the most à propos
in the World, as it introduces all that is said afterwards
of her Vagaries,. Besides, it exa&ly quadrates with these
Lines :

I talk of Dreams;
Which are the Children of an idle Brain,

Begot of nothing but vain Fantasie. These Dreams are begot upon Fantasie, and Mab is the Midwife to bring them forth. And Fancy's Midwife is a Phrase altogether in the Manner of our Author, Ms, Warburton,

And

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