Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me.
Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old I bade her come. What, lamb! What, ladybird! God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet
How now, who calls?
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.
It is an honor that I dream not of.
A man, young lady! Lady, such a man as all the world. Why, he’s a man of wax.