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For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

Rom. 0, let us hence; I stand cn sudden haste.
Fri. Wisely, and now; They stumble, that run fast.


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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 Ro-

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! stabb'd 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-fhaft; 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

bofom :

D 3

bofom : the very butcher of a filk 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-moy's, who stand fo much on the new form, that they cannot fit at ease on the old bench? 0, their bons, their bons !

Enter Romeo.
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring :- flesh, fleth, how art thou filhified !--Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flow'd in : Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench ;-marry, the had a better love to berhyme 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 flop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mer. The slip, fir, the flip; 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 court'sy.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.


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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 flower'd.

Mer. Well said : Follow me this jest now, till thou haft worn out thy pump; that, when the fingle fole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely fingular.

Rom. O fingle-soled jest, solely fingular for the fingleness!

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.
Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp fauce,

Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ?

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 driveling 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 would'st else have made thy tale large.

Mer. O, thou art deceived, I would have made it short: for 1 was come to the whole depth of my tale: and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

Rom. Here's goodly geer!

Enter Nurse and Peter.

Mer. A fail, a fail, a fail!
Ben. Two, two; a thirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!
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. 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 himself to mar.

Nurse. By my troth, it is well faid ;-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 fought 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 haft thou found ?

Mer. No hare, fir ; unless a hare, fir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

An old bare hoar,

Ani an old hare hoar,

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, lady, lady, lady.

[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell !—I pray you, sir, what faucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?

Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself ta!k; 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 Airt-gills; I am none of his skains. mates :-And thou must stand by too, and fuffer 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:

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