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, 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; 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 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 punt verso 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-moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, 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 harlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the 2 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 conceive? Kom. 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 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, solely singular. Rom. O single-soled 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 chase, 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. 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? Jesenteden 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 Romeo; now art thou what thou art by art as well as by nature, for this drivelling love is like a great na tural, 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! flandel Enter Nurse and PETER Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail! Peter. Anon? Nurse. My fan, Peter. 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. '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 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. thing, O, there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see dinner thither. Rom. I will follow you. Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, 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 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, 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 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 Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there. Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbeywall: Within this hour iny man shall be with thee; him. 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. Rom. Commend me to thy lady. - Peter! Nurse. Peter, Take my fan, and go before. Exit. [Exeunt Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the nurse; In half an hour she promis'd to return. Nurse. Jesu, What haste? can you not stay | To fetch a ladder, by the which your love awhile? Do you not see, that I am out of breath? Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath 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. have you dined at home? What, Jul. No, no: But all this did I know before; What says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces, To catch my death with jaunting up and down! Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well : Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman, Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st? Nurse. 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: Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark: Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honest nurse, farewell. [Exeuni. 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, 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. 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 musick'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 work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 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 [Drawing. hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a inan for cracking of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy about your ears ere it be out. out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, Tyb. I am for you. 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 ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo, Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels! an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men : I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; - [Draws. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Tyb. What would'st thou have with me? Beat down their weapons: - Gentlemen, for shame A plague o' both the houses! I am sped: What, art thou hurt? 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 man. I am peppered, 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 arithmetick! Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. 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, And in my temper soften'd valour's steel. 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; I 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? The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! — O my brother's child! Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Hold, friends! friends, part! and swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but, what the law should end, The life of Tybalt. Prin. And, for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence : I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, [Exeunt SCENE II. - A Room in Capulet's House. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die, To an impatient child, that hath new robes, |