A room in Capulet’s house.
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady-bird! God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!
Madam, I am here. What is your will?
This is the matter:—Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret:—nurse, come back again; I have remember’d me, thou’s hear our counsel. Thou know’st my daughter’s of a pretty age.
I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth— And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four— She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide?