By then she could stand up all by herself. No, I swear, by that she could run and waddle all around. I remember because she had cut her forehead just the day before. My husband—God rest his soul, he was a happy man—picked up the child. “Oh,” he said, “Did you fall on your face? You’ll fall backward when you grow smarter. Won’t you, Jule.”
And I swear, the poor pretty thing stopped crying and said, “Yes.” Oh, to watch a joke come true! I bet if I live a thousand years, I’ll never forget it. “Won’t you, Jule,” he said. And the pretty fool stopped crying and said, “Yes.”
Enough of this. Please be quiet.
Yes, madam. But I can’t help laughing to think that the baby stopped crying and said, “Yes.” I swear, she had a huge bump on her forehead. It was a painful bruise, and she was crying bitterly. “Yes,” said my husband, “Did you fall on your face? You’ll fall backward when you grow up, won’t you, Jule?” And she stopped crying and said, “Yes.”
Now you stop too, Nurse, please.
Peace. I’m done talking. May God choose you to receive his grace. You were the prettiest baby I ever nursed. If I live to see you get married someday, all my wishes will come true.
Well, marriage is exactly what we have to discuss. Tell me, my daughter Juliet, what is your attitude about getting married?
“An honor?” If I weren’t your only nurse, I’d say you had sucked wisdom from the breast that fed you.
It is an honor that I do not dream of.
Well, start thinking about marriage now. Here in Verona there are girls younger than you—girls from noble families—who have already become mothers. By my count, I was already your mother at just about your age, while you remain a virgin. Well then, I’ll say this quickly: the valiant Paris wants you as his bride.
What a man, young lady. He’s a great man. He’s as perfect as if he were sculpted from wax.