From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's' wheels:

Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this osier cage of ours,

With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb:
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace,2 that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?-
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth, with unstuff'd brain,
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thon art up-rous'd by some distemp❜rature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right-
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's wo.
Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou
been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies:
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
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;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,

(1) The sun. (2) Virtue.

(3) i. e. It is of the utmost consequence for me to be hasty.

So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence
then-

Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'st me bury love.
Fri.
Not in a grave,
To lay one in, another out to have.
Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love

now,

Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

Fri.
O, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.3 Fri. Wisely, and slow; they stumble, that run [Exeunt.

fast.

SCENE IV-A street. Enter Benvolio and

Mercutio.

Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be?Came he not home to-night?

Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,

Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

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 bow-boy's butt-shaft ;4 And is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats,5 I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song,6 keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a 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 !7

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, 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

(4) Arrow. (5) See the story of Reynard the fox. (6) By notes pricked down. (7) Terms of the fencing-school.

Enter Romeo.

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 but a kitchen-wench ;-Marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme 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.2 You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Rom. Good-morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ;3 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.

Rom. Meaning-to court'sy.

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous exposition.

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rom. Pink for flower.

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why, then is my pump4 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, solely singular.

Rom. O single-soled3 jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits

fail.

Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chace,6 I have 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? 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 cheverel,8 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

:

(1) In ridicule of Frenchified coxcombs.

(2) Trowsers or pantaloons, a French fashion in Shakspeare's time.

(3) A pun on counterfeit money, called slips. (4) Shoe. (5) Slight, thin.

(6) A horse-race in any direction the leader chooses to take.

(7) An apple. (8) Soft stretching leather.

natural, that runs lolling up and down, to hide his bauble in a hole.

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.

Rom. Here's goodly geer!

Enter Nurse and Peter.

Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail!

Ben. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!

Peter. Anon?

Nurse. My fan, Peter.9

Mer. Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two.

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good den,10 fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good den?

Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick!l of noon.

Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you? Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made 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 older when you have found him, than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for 'fault of a worse.

Nurse. You say well.

Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i'faith; wisely, wisely.

Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

Ben. She will indite him to some supper.
Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
Rom. What hast thou found?

Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten
pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
An old hare hoar, 12
And an old hare hoar,

Is

very good meat in lent:
But a hare that is hoar,
Is too much for a score,
When it hoars ere it be spent.

Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady.13 [Exe. Mer. and Ben. Nurse. Marry, farewell!-I pray you, what saucy merchant14 was this, that was so full of his ropery ?is 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

(9) It was the custom for servants to carry the lady's fan.

(10) Good even.

(12) Hoáry, mouldy.

(11) Point.

(13) The burden of an old song.

(14) A term of disrespect in contradistinction to gentleman.

(15) Roguery.

twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirtgills; I am none of his skains-mates :-And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

Pet. 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; what she bade 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, should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

if

you

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 woman. 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 shrift2

This afternoon;

And there she shall at friar Laurence* cell
Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains.
Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Rom. Go to; I say, you shall.

Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be

there.

Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbeywall:

Within this hour my man shall be with thee;
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
Which to the high top-gallant3 of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell!-Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Farewell!-Commend me to thy mistress.
Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee!-Hark
you, sir.

Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear
say-

Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

Rom. I warrant thee; my man's as true as steel. Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady-Lord, lord!-when 'twas a little prating thing,-O,-there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Rom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the dog. 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.

(1) A mate or companion of one wearing a akain; a short sword.

(2) Confession.

(3) The highest extremity of the mast of a ship.

nurse;

In half an hour she promis'd to return.
Perchance, she cannot meet him: that's not so.-
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over louring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours,-yet she is not come.
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy5 her to my sweet love,
And his to me :

But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse and Peter.

O God, she comes!-O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.
[Exit Peter.
Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,-O lord! why
look'st thou sad?

Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nurse. I am weary, give me leave a while;Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had! Jul. 1 would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy

To say to me-that thou art out of breath?
The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?

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; What says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!

It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o't'other side,-O, my back, my back!—
Beshrew6 your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir; here 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 hate 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
To such a greeting - Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.
Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Capulet,-which name I tender
As dearly as mine own,--be satisfied.

Mer O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! A la stoccata1 carries it away. [Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What would'st thou have with me? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher2 by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about

your ears ere it be out.

Mer. I am hurt :

A plague o'both the houses!--I am sped:
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Ben.
What, art thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis
enough.-

Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page
Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide
as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask
for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave
I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world:
A plague o'both your houses!-Zounds, a dog, a
rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a
braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book
of arithmetic!-Why, the devil, came you between
us? I was hurt under your arm.

man.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

---

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint.-A plague o'both your houses! They have made worm's meat of me : I have it, and soundly too:-Your houses! [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman :-O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,

(1) The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier. (2) Case or scabbard.

And in my temper soften'd valour's steel. Re-enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth
depend;

This but begins the wo, others must end.
Re-enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain !
Away to heaven, respective3 lenity,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct4 now!—
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort
him here,

Shalt with him hence.

Rom.

This shall determine that. [They fight; Tybalt falls.

Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain: Stand not amaz'd:-the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken :-hence!-be gone!-away! Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo.

Rom. O! I am fortune's fool!
Ben.

Enter Citizens, &c.

1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

1 Cit.

Up, sir, go with me; charge thee in the prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their wives, and others.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: There lies the man slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin!-O my brother's child!

Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd

Of my
dear kinsman!-Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.-
O cousin, cousin!

Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;

Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure:-All this-uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly
bow'd,-

Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And, with a martial scorn, with one hands beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo, he cries aloud,

(3) Cool, considerate gentleness.
(4) Conduct for conductor. (5) Accompany.
(6) Just and upright. (7) Slight, unimportant.