Rom. I cry you mercy my busines was great, and in fuch a case as mine, a man may straine curtefie.

Mer. Oh thats as much to say as fuch a cafe as yours wil constraine a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. A most curteous expofition.

Mer. Why I am the very pinke of curtefie.

Rom. Pinke for flower ?

Mer. Right.

Rom. Then is my pumpe well flour'd:

Mer. Well faid, follow me nowe that ieft till thou hast worne out thy pumpe, that when the fingle fole of it is worn the ieft may remaine after the wearing folie finguler.

Rom. O fingle foald iest folie finguler for the finglenes. Me. Come between vs good Benuolio, for my wits faile. Rom. Swits and fpurres, fwits and fpurres, or Ile cry a match.

Mer. Nay if thy wits runne the wildgoofe chafe, I haue done for I am fure thou haft more of the goofe in one of thy wits, than I haue in al my fiue: was I with you there for the goofe?

Rom. Thou wert neuer with me for any thing, when thou wert not with me for the goofe.

Me. Ile bite thee by the eare for that ieft.

Rom. Nay good goose bite not.

Mer. Why thy wit is a bitter sweeting, a most sharp fauce
Rom. And was it not well feru'd in to a fweet goofe?

Mer. Oh heere is a witte of Cheuerell that ftretcheth from an ynch narrow to an ell broad.

Rom. I ftretcht it out for the word broad, which added to the goofe, proues thee faire and wide a broad goofe.

Mer. Why is not this better now than groning for loue? why now art thou fociable, now art thou thy felfe, nowe art This driueling thou what thou art, as wel by arte as nature.

loue

loue is like a great naturall, that runs vp and downe to hide his bable in a hole.

Ben. Stop there.

Me. Why thou would haue me ftopp my tale against the haire.

Ben. Thou wouldst haue made thy tale too long?

Mer. Tut man thou art deceiued, I meant to make it short, for I was come to the whole depth of my tale? and meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer. Rom. Heers goodly geere.

Enter Nurfe and her man.

Mer. A faile, a faile, a faile.

Ben. Two, two, a fhirt and a fmocke.

Nur. Peter, pree thee giue me my fan.

Mer. Pree thee doo good Peter, to hide her face:

for her fanne is the fairer of the two.

Nur. God ye good morrow gentlemen.

Mer. God ye good den faire gentlewoman.
Nur. Is it godye gooden I pray you.

Mer. Tis no leffe I affure you, for the baudie hand of the diall is euen now vpon the pricke of noone.

Nur. Fie, what a man is this?

Rom. A gentleman nurfe, that God hath made for himfelfe

to marre.

Nur. By my troth well faid: for himfelfe to marre quoth he? I pray you can anie of you tell where one maie finde yong

Romeo ?

Rom. I can: but yong Romeo will bee elder when you haue found him, than he was when you fought him. I am the yongeft of that name for fault of a worse.

Nur. Well faid.

Mer. Yea, is the worst well? mas well noted, wifely, wifely.
Nur. If you be he fir, I defire fome conference with ye.
VOL. IV.

с

Ben.

Enter Nurse.

Oh now she comes. Tell me gentle nurse,
What fayes my loue?

Nur. Oh I am wearie, let mee reft a while.
Lord how my
bones ake. Oh wheres my man? Giue me fome aqua vitæ.
Iul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy newes.

Nur. Fie, what a iaunt haue I had: and my backe a tother fide. Lord, Lord, what a cafe am I in.

Jul. But tell me fweet nurse, what fayes Romeo?

Nur. Romeo, nay, alas you cannot chufe a man. Hees no bodie, he is not the flower of curtefie, he is not a proper man : and for a hand, and a foote, and a baudie, wel go thy way wench, thou haft it ifaith. Lord, Lord, how my head beates?

Iul. What of all this? tell me what fayes he to our mariage?

Nur. Marry he fayes like an honest gentleman, and a kinde, and I warrant a vertuous: wheres your mother?

Iul. Lord, Lord, how odly thou replieft? He faies like a kinde gentleman, and an honeft, and a vertuous; wheres your mother.

Nur. Marry come vp, cannot you stay a while? is this the poulteffe for mine aking boanes? next arrant youl haue done, euen doot your felfe.

Iul. Nay ftay fweet nurse, I doo intreate thee now, What fayes my loue, my lord, my Romeo.

Nur. Goe, hye you straight to frier Laurence cell,
And frame a fcufe that you must goe to shrift:
There stayes a bridegroome to make you a bride.
Now comes the wanton blood vp in your cheekes,
I must prouide a ladder made of cordes,
With which your lord muft clime a birdes neft foone.

I must take paines to further your delight,
But you must beare the burden foone at night.
Doth this newes please you now?

Iul. How doth her latter words reuiue my hart.
Thankes gentle nurse, dispatch thy bufines,
And Ile not faile to meete my Romeo.

Enter Romeo, Frier.

Rom. Now father Laurence, in thy holy grant Confifts the good of me and Iuliet.

Fr. Without more words I will doo all I may,

To make you happie if in me it lye.

Rom. This morning here the pointed we should meet,

And confumate thofe neuer parting bands,

Witnes of our harts loue by ioyning hands,
And come she will.

Fr. I geffe fhe will indeed,

Youths loue is quicke, fwifter than swiftest speed.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliet fomewhat fast, and embraceth Romeo.

See where she comes.

So light of foote nere hurts the troden flower :
Of loue and ioy, fee fee the foueraigne power.

Iul. Romeo.

Rom. My Iuliet welcome. As doo waking eyes (Cloafd in nights myfts) attend the frolicke day, So Romeo hath expected Juliet,

And thou art come.

Jul. 1 am (if I be day)

Come to my funne : fhine foorth, and make me faire.
Rom. All beauteous fairnes dwelleth in thine eyes.
Iul. Romeo from thine all brightnes doth arise.

Fr. Come wantons, come, the ftealing houres do passe Defer imbracements till fome fitter time,

C 3

Part

Part for a while, you shall not be alone,
Till holy church haue ioynd ye both in one.
Rom. Lead holy father, all delay feemes long.
Iul. Make haft, make haft, this lingring doth vs wrong.
Fr. O, foft and faire makes fweeteft worke they fay.
Haft is a common hindrer in crosse way.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Benuolio, Mercutio.

Ben. I pree thee good Mercutio lets retire, The day is hot, the Capels are abroad.

Mer. Thou art like one of those, that when hee comes into the confines of a tauerne, claps me his rapier on the boord, and fayes, God fend me no need of thee: and by the operation of the next cup of wine, he drawes it on the drawr, when in deed there is no need.

Ben. Am I like fuch a one?

Mer. Go too, thou art as hot a iacke being mooude, and as foone mooude to be moodie, and as foone moodie to be mooud.

Ben. And what too?

Mer. Nay, and there were two fuch, wee should haue none fhortly. Didit not thou fall out with a man for cracking of nuts, hauing no other reafon, but because thou hadst hafill eyes? what eye but fuch an eye would haue pickt out such a quarrell? With another for coughing, because hee wakd thy dogge that lay a fleepe in the funne? With a taylor for wearing his new dublet before Easter and with another for tying his new shoes with olde ribands. And yet thou wilt forbid me of quarrelling.

Ben. By my head heere comes a Capolet.

Enter Tybalt.

Mer. By my heele I care not.

Tyb. Gentlemen a word with one of you.

Mer.