The Same. A Street. |
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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. Why 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 through 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 punto reverso! 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-mois, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons! |
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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-rime 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? |
Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; 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 curtsy. |
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 pump well flowered. |
Mer. Well said; follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out the pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular. |
Rom. O single-soled jest! solely singular for the singleness. |
Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wit faints. |
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 anything when thou wast not here 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 then well served in to a sweet goose? |
Mer. O! here's a wit of cheveril, 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 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. |
Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. |
Ben. Thou wouldst 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 gear! |
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Enter Nurse and PETER. |
Mer. A sail, a sail! |
Ben. Two, two; a shirt and a smock. |
Nurse. Peter! |
Peter. Anon! |
Nurse. My fan, Peter. |
Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face. |
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 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. |
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. [Sings. | 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. |
|
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither. |
Rom. I will follow you. |
Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, [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 anything 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 skeins-mates. [To PETER.] 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 bid 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, |
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 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 sayst 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 lief 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 versal 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—No; I know it begins with some other letter: and she had the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. |
Rom. Commend me to thy lady. |
Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [Exit ROMEO.] Peter! |
Pet. Anon! |
Nurse. Before, and apace. [Exeunt. |
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