SCENE III. Friar Laurence's cell. Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket. Fri. L. The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light, ΙΟ And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels 20 Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Enter ROMEO. Rom. Good morrow, father. Fri. L. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Rom. That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. Fri. L. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. Fri. L. 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. 50 Fri. L. Be plain, good son, and homely in of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt- Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. is set 59 On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: Fri. L. Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, 70 Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! Not in a grave, To lay one in, another out to have. 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. Mer. Any man that can write may answer a letter. ΙΟ 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 car with a love-song; the very pin Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of complements. 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 hai! 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 thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashionmongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones! Enter ROMEO. Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his ree, 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. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? 50 Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; can you not con 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? 151 Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, [singing] 'lady, lady, lady.' [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. Nurse. Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches what saucy merchant was this, that was so full 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 natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. Ben. Stop there, stop there. 100 Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. Ben. large. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face. 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. 119 Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you! Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for 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. 130 Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely, wisely. Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidience 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. [Sings. 140 An old hare hoar. Is too much for a score, Rom. I will follow you. 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 flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure? Peter. 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. 169 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. 181 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 191 Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall: Within this hour my man shall be with thee, 200 What say'st thou, my dear nurse? Rom. Nurse. hear say, Two may keep counsel, putting one away? 210 as steel Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady-Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:-0, there is a nobleman in town, one Jul. 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! The clock struck nine when I did send man, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handthe nurse; some, and, I warrant, a virtuous,-Where is your mother? In half an hour she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve 10 But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Enter Nurse and PETER. 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; 21 Nurse. I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: Fie, 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, speak. Nurse. Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath? 30 Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? There stays a husband to make you a wife: SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's cell. 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. L. These violent delights have violent ends Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. Fri. L. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. As much to him, else is 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 imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, 30 Brags of his substance, not of ornament: Fri. L. Come, come with me, and we will make short work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone ACT III. SCENE I. A public place. [Exeunt. Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: 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? ΙΟ 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 hast thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quar relled 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 riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-simple! O simple! Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Mer. By my heel, I care not. Enter TYBALT and others. 39 Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us? couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion. 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 public 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 hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery: 60 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 71 Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. Rom. I do protest, I never injured 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 my own,-be satisfied. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? 79 Tyb. What wouldst 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 pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. |