Nurfe. This afternoon, Sir? well, fhe fhall be there.
Rom. And stay, good nurfe, behind the abbey-wall:
Within this hour my man fhall 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 fecret night.
Farewel, be trufty, and I'll quit thy pains:

Nurfe. Now God in heav'n bless thee: hark you, Sir.
Rom. What sayeft thou, my dear nurse?

Nurse. Is your man fecret? 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 is a noble man in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good foul, had as lieve fee a toad, a very toad, as see him: I anger her fometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I fay fo, fhe looks as pale as any clout in the verfal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with

a letter?

Rom. Ay nurfe, 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 no other letter, sententious of it, of you and rosemary, to hear it.

Romeo. Commend me to thy lady.
Nurfe. A thousand times. Peter?
Pet. Anon.

and she hath the prettieft that it would do you good

Nurfe. Take my fan, and go before.

[Exit Romeo.

[Exeunt.

from the first edition.

SCENE

Jul.

TH

SCENE VI.

Capulet's House.

Enter Juliet.

HE clock ftruck nine, when I did fend the nurse: In half an hour she promis'd to return. Perchance the cannot meet him That's not fo

Oh she is lame: love's heralds fhould be thoughts,
Which ten times fafter glide than the fun-beams,
Driving back shadows over lowring hills.
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the fun upon the highmost hill

Of this day's journey, and from nine 'till twelve
Ay three long honrs ---- and yet fhe is not come;
Had fhe affections and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as (wift in motion as a ball,

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me;

Enter Nurse.

* O God, he comes. What news?

Haft thou met with him? fend thy man away.

Nurfe. Peter, ftay at the gate.

Jul. Now good fweet nurse

O lord, why look'st thou sad?

Nurse. I am a weary, let me reft a while;

Fy, how my bones ake, what a jaunt have I had?

Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
Good nurse speak.

Nay come, I pray thee fpeak

Nurfe. Give me fome Aqua vite.

*The verfes left out here are not in the old edition.

Jul.

་

Jul. 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?

Nurfe. Well, you have made a fimple choice; you know not
how to chuse a man: Romeo! no not he, though his face be
better than any man's, yet his legs excel all mens, and for a hand
and a foot, and a bo-dy, tho' they be not to be talk'd on, yet
they are past compare.
He is not the flower of courtfie, but I
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 fays he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurfe. Lord how my head akes! what a head have I?

It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.

My back a t'other fide 0 my back, my back:
Befhrew your heart, for sending me about,

To catch my death with jaunting up and down.
Jul. I'faith I am sorry that thou art so ill.

Sweet, fweet, sweet nurse, tell me what fays my love?

Nurse. Your love fays like an honeft gentleman,

And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,

And I warrant a virtuous where is

11111

your

mother?

Jul. Where is my mother? why she is within,

Where should she be? how odly thou reply'ft!

Your love fays like an honeft gentleman:
Where is your mother?

Nurfe. O god's lady dear,

Are you so hot? marry come up I trow,

Is this the poultis for my aking bones?
Hence-forward do your meffages your felf.

Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what says Romeo?
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to fhrift to-day?
Jul. I have.

Nurfe.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' 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
Muft climb a bird's neft foon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
But you fhall bear the burthen soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell.

Fri.

Jul. Hie to high fortune; honest nurse farewel.

S

SCENE VII.

The Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act,

That after-hours with forrow chide us not!
Rom. Amen, amen; but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy,
That one short minute gives me in her fight:
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 meet confume. The sweetest honey
Is loathfome in its own deliciousness,

And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth so:
Too swift arrives, as tardy as too flow.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may bestride the goffamour,
That idles in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good-even to my ghastly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee daughter for us both.
Jul. As much to him, elfe are his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it; then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich mufick's tongue
Unfold th' imagin'd happiness, that both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:

They are but beggars that can count their worth,

But my true love is grown to fuch excess,

I cannot fum up one half of my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short work,

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 'Till holy church incorp'rate two in one.

[Exeunt.

ACT