And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve My words would bandy her to my sweet love, But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Enter Nurse, and Peter. O God, she comes!—O honey nurse, what news? 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 Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave a while; Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had! Το Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath -that thou art out of breath? say to me The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay, 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 talk'd 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 din'd 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!— To catch my death with jaunting up and down! says my love? Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman, Nurse. O, God's lady dear! |