The Same. CAPULET'S Garden. |
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Enter JULIET. |
Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; |
In half an hour she promis'd to return. |
Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. |
O! she is lame: love's heralds should be thoughts, |
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, |
Driving back shadows over lowering hills: |
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, |
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. |
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill |
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve |
Is three long hours, yet she is not come. |
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood, |
She'd be as swift in motion as a ball; |
My words would bandy her to my sweet love, |
And his to me: |
But old folks, many feign as they were dead; |
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. |
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Enter Nurse and PETER. |
O God! she comes. 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; |
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 awhile: |
Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunce 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? |
Jul. How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath |
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 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! |
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 jauncing 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, 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 repliest: |
'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, |
Where is your mother?' |
Nurse. O! God's lady dear, |
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 you 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. |
Jul. Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. [Exeunt. |
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