Page images

Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
That were some spite my invocation
Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among


To be consorted with the humorous night: Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

Rom. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
those Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree,

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.Romeo, good night!-I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: Come, shall we go?

Ben. Go, then! for 'tis in vain

To seek him here, that means not to be found.

[blocks in formation]

CAPULET'S garden.

Enter ROMEO.


Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.
[Juliet appears above at a window.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks!
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!-
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady; O, it is my love!

O, that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those


Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night,

So stumblest on my counsel?

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Jul. Ah me!

Rom. She speaks: —

O, speak again, bright angel! for thon art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Rom. By a name

I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Ofthe tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

[ocr errors]

For stony limits cannot hold love ont:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?


Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy; Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title:- Romeo, doff thy name;

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;

And, but thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far,
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke; but farewell compliment!
Dost love me? I know thou wilt say -Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs, O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think
haviour light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
Aud not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,~~~
Jul. O, swear not by the moon, inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love. prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?


Jul. Do not swear at all!

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my heart's dear love

I have forgot why I did call thee back.
Rom. Let me stand here, till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Rememb'ring how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,

Jul. Well, do not swear! although I joy in thee, Forgetting any other home but this.

I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower, when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Rom. O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

Jul. "Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone:
And yet no further, than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy bird.
Jul. Sweet, so would I:

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say-good night, till it be morrow. [Exit.
Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy


'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! pur-Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;

[Nurse calls within. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true! Stay but a little, I will come again.

Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream,

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter JULIET, above.


His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.

SCENE III.- Friar LAURENCE's cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket.
Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
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 up-fill this osier cage of ours,

With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night in- What is her burying grave, that is her womb: deed,

If that thy bent of love be honourable,

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite;
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.
Nurse. [Within.] Madam!

Iul. I come, anon.-But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee,

Nurse. [Within.] Madam.

Jul. By and by, I come :

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will 1 send.

Rom. So thrive my soul,—

Jul. A thousand times good night!

[Exit. 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 looks. [Retiring slowly.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-0, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name: How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears!

Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My sweet!

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee?

Rom. At the hour af nine.

Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then.

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, 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 part;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
And, where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Good morrow, father!
Fri. Benedicite!

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,
Thou art uprous'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.

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

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 hear 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:
Ás 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,
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.
Fri. Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.


SCENE IV.-A street.
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

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 through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's buttshaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. 0, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, 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!


Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new turners of accents!- By Jess 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 thes strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonne moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? 0, their bons, their bons!

Enter ROMEO.

Ben, Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo! Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring:-0 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 barlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the parpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. 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. Can you not conceirs?
Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was grea
and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy,
Mer. That's at 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.

till thea

Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. Mer. Well said. Follow me this jest now, hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single se of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing solely singular.

Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the


Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; mỹ
Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and

cry a match.


wits fail.


chase, I

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose have done; for thou hast more of the wild goose one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my who 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 most sharp sance.

Rom, And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, 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 Bo

[merged small][ocr errors]

Ben. Stop there, stop there!

Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against



meo; now art thon what thou art, by art as well as Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every by nature for this driveling love is like a great na-part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!-Pray you, tural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his sir, a word! and as I told you, my young lady bade bauble in a hole. me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if 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,

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!

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

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen!
Mer. God ye good den, 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 of noon.
Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you?
Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made him-
self 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,

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.

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 shrift
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 abbey-wall:
Within this hour my man shall be with thee;
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convey 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,-0, -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

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

[blocks in formation]

- Peter!

Rom. Commend me to thy lady!
Nurse. Ay, a thousand times!
Pet. Anon?


Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before![Exeunt.

SCENE V.. CAPULET's garden.



Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the


Nurse.An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll take In half an hour she promis'd to return. him down an 'a were lustier, than he is, and twenty Perchance, she cannot meet him:- that's not so. such Jacks; and, if I cannot, I'll find those that O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand Driving back shadows over low'ring hills: by too, and suffer every knave to use at his plea-Therefore do nimble-piuion'd doves draw love, sure? And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I Now is the sun upon the highmost hill had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve warrant you! I dare draw as soon as another man, ifI Is three long hours, yet she is not come. sce occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,

[blocks in formation]

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 aweary, give me leave a while;
Fye, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!
Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak! - good, good nurse,

Nurse. Jesu, what haste? can you not stay a while?
Do you not see, that I am out of breath?

Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast

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 dower of
courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as
lamb. Go thy ways, wench! serve God!
have you dined at home?


[blocks in formation]



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! —
Beshrew your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!
Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not weil :
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous. Where is your mother?
Jul. Where is my mother? why, she is within;
Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st!
Your love says like an honest gentleman.-
Where is your mother?

Nurse. 0, God's lady dear!

[ocr errors]

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.


Here comes the lady!-O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossomers,
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness, that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.
Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter, than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars, that can count their worth
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short

Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.
Jul. Here's such a coil;-come, what says Romeo?
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

Jul. I have.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell!

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorporate two in one! [Exeunt.


[ocr errors]

SCENE I. 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 stiring. 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 cap draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no


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. Thon! 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 cracking t having no other reason but because thou hast hard eyes. What eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, s an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. The






[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »