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1 Cap.

Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, You are welcome, gentlemen ! Come, musicians And then dreams be of smelling out a suit :

play: And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls. Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,

[Musiek plays, and they dance. Then dreams he of another benefice :

More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And quench the fire, the room is grown too bot.And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon For you and I are past vur dancing days : Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes ; How long is't now, since last yourself and I And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, Were in a mask ? And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,

2 Cap.

By'r lady, thirty years. (much: That plats the manes of horses in the night;

1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. Come pentecost as quickly as it will, This is the hay, when maids lie on their backs, Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. That presses them, and learns them first to bear,

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more : his son is elder, sir; Making them women of good carriage.

His son is thirty This, this is she

Will you tell me that? hydr.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; His son was but a ward two years ago. Thou talk'st of nothing.

Rom. What lady's that which doth enrich the hand Mer.

True, I talk of dreams; Of yonder knight? Which are the children of an idle brain,

Serv. I know not, sir. Peont of nothing but vain fantasy;

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Which is as thin of substance as the air;

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Ar more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear
And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. As vonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, Supper is done, and we shall come too late. And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.

Rom. I fear too early: for my mind misgives, Did my heart lyve till now ? forswear it, sight! Suine consequence yet hanging in the stars, For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague: With this night's revels; and expire the term Fetch me my rapier, boy: What! dares the slare Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,

Come hither, cover'd with an antick face,
By sune vile forfeit of untimely death :

To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ?
Bút He, that hath the steerage of my course, Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
Direct my sail !-On, lusty gentlemen.

To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

Lvou so? Ben. Strike, drum.

(Ereunt. i Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore storm SCENE V.-A Hall in Capulet's House.

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;

A villain, that is hither come in spite, Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. To scorn at our solemnity this night. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take 1 Cap. Young Romeo is't ?

Tyb. Iway? he shift a trencher ! he scrape a trencher!

'Tis he, that villain, Romen 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one

1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis á He bears him like a portly gentleman ; foul thing.

And, to say truth, Verona brags of him, I Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: court-cupboard, look to the plate :-good thou, save I would not for the wealth of all this town, me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let Here in my house, do him disparagement : che porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Neli.- Therefore be patient, take no note of him. Antony! and Potpan ?

It is my will; the which if thou respect, 2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns, 1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest; 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.

I'll not endure him. Cheerly, boys; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver

He shall be endur'd; take all.

[They retire behind. What, goodman boy !--I say, he shall ;-Go to,

Am I the master here, or you ? go to. Enter CAPULET, &c. with the Guests, and the You'll not endure him!-Ġod shall mend my soulMaskers.

You'll make a mutiny among my guests ! Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies that have their You will set cock.a-hoop! you'll be the man! toes

Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you :

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Go to, go to, Ah ba, my mistress ! which of you all

You are a saucy boy :-Is’t so, indeed ?Will now deny to dance ? she that makes dainty, she, This trick may chance to scath you :-I know what. I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you now? You must contráry me! marry, 'tis timeYou are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the day, Well said, my hearts :-You are a princox; go :That I nave worn a visor; and could tell

Be quiet, or-More light, more light, for shame'. A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Lgone : I'll make you quiet; What !-Cheerly, my hearts Si h as would please ;—'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler mee'ng

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Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. That fair, which love groan'd for, and would die,
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,

With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. (Exit. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again,
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;

TO JULIET. But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,- And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand Being held a foe, he may not have access

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too And she as much in love, her means much less much,

To meet her new-beloved any where:
Which mannerly devotion shows in this; But passion lends them power, time means to meet,
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, Temp’ring extremities with extreme sweet. (Erit.

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too ?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers'

(take. Rom. Then move not while my prayer's effect I SCENE I.-An open Place, adjoining Capulet's Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd.

Garden, (Kissing her. Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Enter Romeo. Rom. Sin from my lips ? O trespass sweetly urg'd!

Rom. Can I go forward, when my hear is here? Give me my sin again.

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.
You kiss by the book.

(He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with

Rom. What is her mother ?

Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo !
Marry, bachelor,

He is wise ; Her mother is the lady of the house,

And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous :

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchar I nurs’d her daughter, that you talk withal;

wall: I tell you,-he, that can lay hold of her,

Call, good Mercutio. Shall have the chinks.


Nay, I'll conjure too. Rom.

Is she a Capulet? Romeo! humours ! madman! passion ! lover! O dear account ! my life is my foe's debt.

Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best. Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied: Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. Cry but-Ah me! couple but-love and dove ;

1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gore; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
Is it e'en so ? Why, then I thank you all; Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night : When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid-
More torches here !-- Come on, then let's to bed. He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;
Aa, sirrah, ( To 2 Cap.) by my fay, it waxes late; The ape is dead, and I must conjure bim.-
L’li to my rest. [Ereunt all but Juliet and Nurse. I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,

Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentleman ? By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door ? And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not Ber.. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him,
dance ?

Mer. This cannot anger him: twould anger him Nurse. I know not

To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
Jul. Go, ask bis name :-if he be married, Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Till she bad laid it, and conjur'd it down;
Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; That were some spite. my invocation
The only son of your great enemy.

Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! I conjure only but to raise up him.
Too early seen unknown, and known too late ! Ben, Come, he hiih hid himself among those trees
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

To be consorted with the humorous night: That I must love a loathed enemy.

Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. Nurse. What's this? What's this ?

Mer. If love be blind, lore cannot hit the mark. Jul.

A rhyme I learn'd even now Now will he sit under a medlar tree, Of one I danc'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet. And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, Nurse. Anon, anon :

As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. Romeo, good night ;-I'll to my truckle-bed ;

(Ereunt.' This field-bed is tuo cold for me to sleep :

Come, shall we go?

1 Ben.

Go, then; for 'tis in vain Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,

To seek him here, that means not to be found And young affection gapes to be his heir; 1

(L seu


SCENE II.-Capulet's Garden.

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;

And the place death, considering who thou art, Enter Romeo.

If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch [JULIET appears ahove, at a window

these walls; But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! For stony limits cannot hold love out: It is the east, and Juliet is the sun !

And what love can do, that dares love attempt, Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. Who is already sick and pale with grief,

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. That thou her maid art far more fair than she : Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Be not her maid, since she is envious;

Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And I am proof against their enmity. And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee It is my lady; 0, it is my love


(sight; 0, that she knew she were !

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that? And, but thou love me, let them find me here : Her eye discourses, I'will answer it.

My life were better ended by their hate, I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Jul. By whose direction found’st thou out this Having some business, do entreat her eyes

place ? To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, Would through the airy region stream so bright, I would adventure for such merchandise.

(face; That birds would sing, and think it were not night. Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. That I might touch that cheek!

Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny Jul.

Ah me!

What I have spoke; But farewell compliment ! Rom.

She speaks :- Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say~Ay; O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head, Thou may'st prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, As is a winged messenger of heaven

They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,

Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,

I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, And sails upon the bosom of the air.

So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world. Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; Deny thy father, and refuse thy name :

And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Than those that have more cunning to be strange. Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? I should have been more strange, I must confess,

(Aside. But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware, Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;- My true love's passion : therefore pardon me; Thou art thyself though, not x. Montague.

And not impute this yielding to light love, What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot, Which the dark night hath so discovered. Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, Belonging to a man. 0, be some other name! That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, What's in a name ? that which we call a rose,

Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant By any other name, would smell as sweet; Só Romeo would, were he not Romeo callid, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Retain that dear perfection which he owes,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Without that title :-Romeo, doff thy name;

Rom. What shall I swear by ? And for that name, which is no part of thee,


Do not swear at all Take all myself.

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
I take thee at thy word :

Which is the god of my idolatry,
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;

And I'll believe thee. Hencefore I never will be Romeo.

(night, Rom.

If my heart's dear lovene Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, So stumblest on my counsel ?

I have no joy of this contráct to-night: Rom.

By a name

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden: I know not how to tell thee who kam :

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,

Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good night! Because it is an enemy to thee;

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, Had I it written, I would tear the word.

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Good night, good night! as sweet repose and resi Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ?

Rom. 0, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me ? and where Rom. The exchange of thy lova's faithful vow for foro?



pose, love ?

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sor. And yet I would it were to give again.

row, Rom. Would’st thou withdraw it? for what pur- That I shall say—good night, till it be morrow.

[Ecit. Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

breast! My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell; The more I have, for both are infinite.

His help to crave, and my dear hap to tel. (Brii.

(Nurse calls within, I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu !

SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's Cell.
Anon, good nurse !-Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay hut a little, I will come again.


Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket. Řom. O blessed blessed night! I am afeard, Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning Being in night, all this is but a dream,

night, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Checkering the eastern ciouds with streaks of light;

And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
Re-enter JULIET, above.

From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels: Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, Now ere the sun advance his burning eye, indeed.

The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, Jf that thy bent of love be honourable,

I must up-fill this osier cage of ours, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers. By one that I'll procure to come to thee,

The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; What is her burying grave, that is her womb: And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,

And from her womb children of divers kind
And follow thee my lord throughout the world. We sucking on her natural bosom find;
Nurse. [Within.) Madam.

Many for many virtues excellent,
Jul. I come, anon:-But if thou mean'st not well, None but for some, and yet all different.
I do beseech thee,

0, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies Nurse. [Within.] Madam.

In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities • Jul,

By and by, I come:- For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: But to the earth some special good doth give; To-morrow will I send.

Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Rom.

So thrive my soul, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse :
Jul. A thousand times good night! (Erit. Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy And vice sometimes by action dignified.

[books; Within the infant rind of this small flower Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their Poison hath residence, and med’cine power. But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part

[Retiring slowly. Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.

Two such opposed foes encamp them still
Re-enter JULIET, above.

In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
Jul Hist, Romeo, hist!-0, fora falconer's voice, And, where the worser is predominant,
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
Else would I tear the cave where echo lies,

Enter ROMEO. and make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine Rom. Good morrow,

father! With repetition of my Romeo's name,


Benedicite ! Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name : What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Young son, it argues a distemper'd head, Like softest musick to attending ears !

So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed :
Jul. Romeo !

Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
My sweet!

And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;

At what o'clock to-morrow But where unbruised youth with unstuff d braio Shall I send to thee?

Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign Rom.

'At the hour of nine. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then. Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature,
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Or if not so, then here I hit it right-
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine. Rememb’ring how I love thy company.

Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? Do; Forgetting any other home but this.

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone: Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou And yet no further than a wanton's bird ;

been then ? Who lets it hop a little from her hand,

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,

I have been feasting with mine enemy; And with a silk thread plucks it back again, Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, Sn laving jealous of his liberty.

That's by me wounded; both our remedies Rm. I would, I were thy bird.

Within thy help and holy physick lies: Jul.

Sweet, so rould I : I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, 12, Yet I should kill thee with much cberishing. My intercession Mkewise steads my foc

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, disRiddling confession finds Lut riddling shrift. tance, and proportion ; rests me his minim rest, one, Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher is set

of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman On the fair daughter of rich Capulet :

of the very first house,--of the first and second As mine on her's, so hers is set on mine;

cause : Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reAnd all combin'd, save what thou must combine verso ! the hay! By holy marriage: When, and where, and how, Ben. The what? We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, Mer. The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,

fantasticoes; these new tuners of aceents !-By That thou consent to marry us this day.

Jesu, a very good blade !-a very tall man!—a very Fri. Holy Saint Francis ! what a change is here: good whore !-Why, is not this a lamentable thing, Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,

grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonNot truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

nez-moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine

they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! bons, their bons ! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it doth not taste!

Enter ROMEO. The in not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring;-0, Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit

flesh, flesh, how art thou fisbified !--Now is he for Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet :

the numbers that Petrarch flowed in :-Laura, to his If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, lady, was but a kitchen-wench;-marry, she had a Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline; better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; CleoAnd art thou chang'd ? pronounce this sentence patra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harthen

lots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the pur. Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. pose.—Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French

Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline. salutation to your French slop. You gave us the
Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. And bad’st me bury love.

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counter

Not in a grave, feit did I give you ? To lay one in, another out to have.

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you pot conceive ? Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was now,

great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; courtesy. The other did not so.

Mer. That's as much as to say-such a case as 0, she knew well,

yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. Rom. Meaning-to court'sy. But come, young waverer, come go with me,

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. In one respect I'll thy assistant be;

Rom. A most courteous exposition. For this alliance may so happy prove,

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
To turn your households' rancour to pure love. Rom. Pink for flower.

Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. Mer. Right
Fri. Wisely, and slow; They stumble, that run Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered.

(Exeunt. Mer. Well said: Follow me this jest now, till

thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single SCENE IV.-A Street.

sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the

wearing, solely singular. Enter BenyOLIO and MERCUTIO.

Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be ? - singleness!
Came he not home to-night?

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits
Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. fail.
Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll
that Rosaline,

cry a match. Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, I have done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my Mer. A challenge, on my life.

whole five: Was I with you there for the goose ? Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a when thou wast not there for the goose. letter.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. he dares, being dared.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! most sharp sauce. stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot tho- Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet rough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his goose ? heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; And Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

from an inch narrow to an ell broad ! Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ?

Rom. I stretch it out for that word-broad. Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide O, te is the courageous captain of compliments | a broad goose.



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