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And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
Nurse calls within.
Re-enter JULIET, above.
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
Jul. I come, anon.-But if thou mean'st not
I do beseech thee
Nurse. Within. Madam!
By and by; I come :-
So thrive my soul,— Jul. A thousand times good night!
Exit above. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books;
But love from love, toward school with heavy
Re-enter JULIET, above.
SCENE III.-The Same. Friar LAURENCE's Cell.
Fri. The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frown-
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O! for a falconer's For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
But to the earth some special good doth give,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: 20
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand Young son, it argues a distemper'd head there,
Remembering how I love thy company.
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.
Jul. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
Thou art up-rous'd by some distemperature; 40
Rom. That last is true; the sweeter rest was
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's
Fri. That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Rom. Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
Mer. Any man that can write may answer a letter. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.
Mer. Alas! poor Romeo, he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot thorough the ear with a love song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bowboy's butt-shaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?
Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O! he is the courageous captain of compli ments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is bosom; the very butcher of a silk button, a
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline :
Women may fall, when there's no strength in
duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah! the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay!
Ben. The what?
Mer. The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents! By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-mois, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O! their bons, their bons.
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rime her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. 51 Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?
Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. W Rom. Meaning, to court'sy.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous exposition.
Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. Mer. Well said; follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.
Rom. O single-soled jest! solely singular for the singleness.
Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wit faints.
Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; or I'll cry a match.
Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? 82
Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast not there for the goose.
Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.
Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?
Mer. O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.
Rom. I stretch it out for that word 'broad'; which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. 101
Ben. Stop there, stop there. Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large.
Mer. O thou art deceived; I would have made it short; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer. 110
Rom. Here's goodly gear!
Enter Nurse and PETER.
Mer. A sail, a sail!
Ben. Two, two; a shirt and a smock. Nurse, Peter !
Nurse. My fan, Peter.
Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two.
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you! Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.
Nurse. By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,' quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?
Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be
Lady, lady, lady.
Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?
Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
Nurse. An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skeins-mates. To PETER. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?
Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.
Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word; and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; hat she bid me say I will keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,
Nurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord! she will be a joyful
Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. Rom. Bid her devise
Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
Rom. And stay, good nurse; behind the
Within this hour my man shall be with thee,
Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Rom. Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah! mocker; that's the dog's name. R is for the No; I know it begins with some other letter; and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.
Rom. Commend me to thy lady.
Peter. Anon !
230 Exit ROMEO.
Jul. How art thou out of breath when thou
To say to me that thou art out of breath?
Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's. yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. What! have you dined at home?
Jul. No, no: but all this did I know before.
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
Nurse. Before, and apace.
Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send
In half an hour she promis'd to return.
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Enter Nurse and PETER.
O God! she comes. O honey nurse! what news?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentle-
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-
Jul. I have.
Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence'
There stays a husband to make you a wife :
Jul. Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse,
SCENE VI.-The Same. Friar LAURENCE'S Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.
Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act, That after hours with sorrow chide us not!
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine.
Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
Here comes the lady: O! so light a foot
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
SCENE I.-Verona. A public Place. Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants. Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says, 'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
Ben. Am I like such a fellow?
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. Ben. And what to?
Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other.
Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for thou hast hazel eyes. What eye, but such an eye, cracking nuts, having no other reason but because would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
Mer. The fee-simple! O simple!
Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Enter TYBALT and Others.
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den! a word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us?
Couple it with something; make it a word and
comes my man.
Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery:
Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'
Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this, -thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee,
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!