Scene IV.

Friar Laurence.Thegrey-eyedmorn smiles on the frowning night,Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,Andfleckeddarkness like a drunkard reelsFrom forthday's path and Titan's fiery wheels.Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,I must up-fill thisosier cageof oursWith baleful weeds andprecious-juiced flowers.The earththat's nature's mother is her tomb;10What is her burying grave that is her womb,And from her womb children of divers kindWe sucking on her natural bosom find,Many for many virtues excellent,None but for some, and yet all different.O,mickleis the powerful grace that liesIn herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities!For nought so vile that on the earth doth liveBut to the earth some special good doth give;Nor aught so good but,strain'dfrom that fair use,20Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,And vice sometime's by action dignified.Within the infant rind of thisweakflowerPoison hath residence, and medicine power;For this, being smelt,with that partcheers each part,Being tasted,slaysall senses with the heart.Two such opposed kingsencamp themstillIn man as well as herbs,—grace and rude will;And where theworseris predominant,30Full soon thecankerdeath eats up that plant.EnterRomeoRomeo.Good morrow, father.Friar Laurence.Benedicite!What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?—Young son, it argues a distemper'd headSo soon to bidgood morrowto thy bed.Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,And where care lodges sleep will never lie;But where unbruised youth withunstuff'dbrainDoth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.Therefore thy earliness doth me assure40Thou art up-rous'dwith somedistemperature;Or if not so, then here I hit it right,Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.Romeo.That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.Friar Laurence.God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?Romeo.With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;I have forgot that name and that name's woe.Friar Laurence.That's my good son; but wherehast thou been, then?Romeo.I 'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.I have been feasting with mine enemy,50Where on a sudden one hath wounded meThat's by me wounded;both our remediesWithin thy help and holy physiclies.I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,My intercession likewisesteadsmy foe.Friar Laurence.Be plain, good son, andhomely in thy drift;Riddlingconfession finds but riddling shrift.Romeo.Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is setOn the fair daughter of rich Capulet.As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;60And all combin'd, save what thou must combineBy holy marriage.When and where and howWe met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,That thou consent to marry us to-day.Friar Laurence.Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,So soon forsaken? young men's love then liesNot truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine70Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!How much salt water thrown away in waste,To season lovethat of it doth not taste!The sun not yet thysighsfrom heaven clears,Thy old groans ring yet in myancientears;Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sitOf an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then:80Women may fall when there's no strength in men.Romeo.Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.Friar Laurence.For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.Romeo.And bad'st me bury love.Friar Laurence.Not in a grave,To lay one in, another out to have.Romeo.I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love nowDoth grace for grace and love for love allow,The other did not so.Friar Laurence.O, she knew wellThy lovedid read by roteand could not spell.But come, young waverer, come, go with me,90In one respect I'll thy assistant be;For this alliance may so happy proveTo turn your households' rancour to pure love.Romeo.O, let us hence!I stand on sudden haste.Friar Laurence.Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.[Exeunt.

Friar Laurence.Thegrey-eyedmorn smiles on the frowning night,

Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,

Andfleckeddarkness like a drunkard reels

From forthday's path and Titan's fiery wheels.

Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,

The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,

I must up-fill thisosier cageof ours

With baleful weeds andprecious-juiced flowers.

The earththat's nature's mother is her tomb;

What is her burying grave that is her womb,

And from her womb children of divers kind

We sucking on her natural bosom find,

Many for many virtues excellent,

None but for some, and yet all different.

O,mickleis the powerful grace that lies

In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities!

For nought so vile that on the earth doth live

But to the earth some special good doth give;

Nor aught so good but,strain'dfrom that fair use,

Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,

And vice sometime's by action dignified.

Within the infant rind of thisweakflower

Poison hath residence, and medicine power;

For this, being smelt,with that partcheers each part,

Being tasted,slaysall senses with the heart.

Two such opposed kingsencamp themstill

In man as well as herbs,—grace and rude will;

And where theworseris predominant,

Full soon thecankerdeath eats up that plant.

EnterRomeo

Romeo.Good morrow, father.

Friar Laurence.Benedicite!What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?—Young son, it argues a distemper'd headSo soon to bidgood morrowto thy bed.Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,And where care lodges sleep will never lie;But where unbruised youth withunstuff'dbrainDoth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.Therefore thy earliness doth me assure40Thou art up-rous'dwith somedistemperature;Or if not so, then here I hit it right,Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Friar Laurence.Benedicite!

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?—

Young son, it argues a distemper'd head

So soon to bidgood morrowto thy bed.

Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,

And where care lodges sleep will never lie;

But where unbruised youth withunstuff'dbrain

Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.

Therefore thy earliness doth me assure

Thou art up-rous'dwith somedistemperature;

Or if not so, then here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Romeo.That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

Friar Laurence.God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

Romeo.With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;I have forgot that name and that name's woe.

Romeo.With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;

I have forgot that name and that name's woe.

Friar Laurence.That's my good son; but wherehast thou been, then?

Friar Laurence.That's my good son; but where

hast thou been, then?

Romeo.I 'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.I have been feasting with mine enemy,50Where on a sudden one hath wounded meThat's by me wounded;both our remediesWithin thy help and holy physiclies.I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,My intercession likewisesteadsmy foe.

Romeo.I 'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.

I have been feasting with mine enemy,

Where on a sudden one hath wounded me

That's by me wounded;both our remedies

Within thy help and holy physiclies.

I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,

My intercession likewisesteadsmy foe.

Friar Laurence.Be plain, good son, andhomely in thy drift;Riddlingconfession finds but riddling shrift.

Friar Laurence.Be plain, good son, andhomely in thy drift;

Riddlingconfession finds but riddling shrift.

Romeo.Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is setOn the fair daughter of rich Capulet.As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;60And all combin'd, save what thou must combineBy holy marriage.When and where and howWe met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Romeo.Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;

And all combin'd, save what thou must combine

By holy marriage.When and where and how

We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,

I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,

That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Friar Laurence.Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,So soon forsaken? young men's love then liesNot truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine70Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!How much salt water thrown away in waste,To season lovethat of it doth not taste!The sun not yet thysighsfrom heaven clears,Thy old groans ring yet in myancientears;Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sitOf an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then:80Women may fall when there's no strength in men.

Friar Laurence.Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!

Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,

So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies

Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine

Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!

How much salt water thrown away in waste,

To season lovethat of it doth not taste!

The sun not yet thysighsfrom heaven clears,

Thy old groans ring yet in myancientears;

Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit

Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.

If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,

Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;

And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then:

Women may fall when there's no strength in men.

Romeo.Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

Friar Laurence.For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

Romeo.And bad'st me bury love.

Friar Laurence.Not in a grave,To lay one in, another out to have.

Friar Laurence.Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.

Romeo.I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love nowDoth grace for grace and love for love allow,The other did not so.

Romeo.I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now

Doth grace for grace and love for love allow,

The other did not so.

Friar Laurence.O, she knew wellThy lovedid read by roteand could not spell.But come, young waverer, come, go with me,90In one respect I'll thy assistant be;For this alliance may so happy proveTo turn your households' rancour to pure love.

Friar Laurence.O, she knew well

Thy lovedid read by roteand could not spell.

But come, young waverer, come, go with me,

In one respect I'll thy assistant be;

For this alliance may so happy prove

To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

Romeo.O, let us hence!I stand on sudden haste.

Friar Laurence.Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.[Exeunt.

A Street

EnterBenvolioandMercutio

Mercutio.Where the devil should this Romeo be?Came he not hometo-night?Benvolio.Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.Mercutio.Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,Torments him so that he will sure run mad.Benvolio.Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,Hath sent a letter to his father's house.Mercutio.A challenge, on my life.Benvolio.Romeo will answer it.10Mercutio.Any man that can write may answera letter.Benvolio.Nay, he will answer the letter's master,how he dares, being dared.Mercutio.Alas, poor Romeo! he is already dead;stabbed with awhite wench's black eye; shot thoroughthe ear with a love-song;the very pinof hisheart cleft with the blind bow-boy'sbutt-shaft; andis he a man to encounter Tybalt?Benvolio.Why, what is Tybalt?20Mercutio.More thanprince of cats, I can tell you.O, he is the courageouscaptain of compliments! Hefights as you singprick-song, keeps time, distance,and proportion; restsmehis minim rest, one, two,and the third in your bosom; the very butcher of asilkbutton, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of thevery first house, of the first and second cause. Ah,the immortalpassado! the punto reverso! the hay!Benvolio.The what?Mercutio.The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting30fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,a very good blade! a very tall man!'—Why, is notthis a lamentable thing,grandsire, that we should bethus afflicted with these strange flies, thesefashion-mongers,thesepardonnez-mois, who stand so muchon the newformthat they cannot sit at ease on theold bench? O, theirbons, theirbons!EnterRomeoBenvolio.Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.Mercutio.Without his roe, like a dried herring. Oflesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the40numbers that Petrarch flowed in; Laura to his ladywas but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a betterlove tobe-rhymeher; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatraa gypsy; Helen and Herohildingsand harlots;Thisbe agrey eyeor so, but not to the purpose.—SigniorRomeo,bon jour! there's a French salutationto your Frenchslop. You gave us the counterfeitfairly last night.Romeo.Good morrow to you both. What counterfeitdid I give you?50Mercutio.The slip, sir, the slip; can you notconceive?Romeo.Pardon, good Mercutio, my business wasgreat; and in such a case as mine a man may straincourtesy.Mercutio.That's as much as to say, such a caseas yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.Romeo.Meaning, to curtsy.Mercutio.Thou hast mostkindlyhit it.Romeo.A most courteous exposition.60Mercutio.Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.Romeo.Pink for flower.Mercutio.Right.Romeo.Why, then ismy pumpwell flowered.Mercutio.Well said; follow me this jest now tillthou hast worn out thy pump, that when the singlesole of it is worn the jest may remain after the wearingsole singular.Romeo.Osingle-souledjest, solely singular forthe singleness!70Mercutio.Come between us, good Benvolio; mywits fail.Romeo.Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; orI'll cry a match.Mercutio.Nay, if thy wits run thewild-goose chase,I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose inone of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my wholefive.Was I with youthere for the goose?Romeo.Thou wast never with me for any thingwhen thou was not there for the goose.80Mercutio.I will bite thee by the earfor that jest.Romeo.Nay,good goose, bite not.Mercutio.Thy wit is a very bittersweeting; it isa most sharp sauce.Romeo.And is it not well served into a sweetgoose?Mercutio.O, here's a wit ofcheveril, that stretchesfrom an inch narrow to an ell broad!Romeo.I stretch it out for that word 'broad,'which added to the goose proves thee far and wide90a broad goose.Mercutio.Why, is not this better now than groaningfor love? Now art thou sociable, now art thouRomeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as wellas by nature; for this drivelling love is like a greatnatural,—Benvolio.Stop there, stop there.Romeo.Here's goodlygear!

Mercutio.Where the devil should this Romeo be?Came he not hometo-night?

Mercutio.Where the devil should this Romeo be?

Came he not hometo-night?

Benvolio.Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

Mercutio.Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,Torments him so that he will sure run mad.

Mercutio.Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,

Torments him so that he will sure run mad.

Benvolio.Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Benvolio.Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,

Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mercutio.A challenge, on my life.

Benvolio.Romeo will answer it.

10Mercutio.Any man that can write may answera letter.

Mercutio.Any man that can write may answer

a letter.

Benvolio.Nay, he will answer the letter's master,how he dares, being dared.

Benvolio.Nay, he will answer the letter's master,

how he dares, being dared.

Mercutio.Alas, poor Romeo! he is already dead;stabbed with awhite wench's black eye; shot thoroughthe ear with a love-song;the very pinof hisheart cleft with the blind bow-boy'sbutt-shaft; andis he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Mercutio.Alas, poor Romeo! he is already dead;

stabbed with awhite wench's black eye; shot thorough

the ear with a love-song;the very pinof his

heart cleft with the blind bow-boy'sbutt-shaft; and

is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Benvolio.Why, what is Tybalt?

20Mercutio.More thanprince of cats, I can tell you.O, he is the courageouscaptain of compliments! Hefights as you singprick-song, keeps time, distance,and proportion; restsmehis minim rest, one, two,and the third in your bosom; the very butcher of asilkbutton, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of thevery first house, of the first and second cause. Ah,the immortalpassado! the punto reverso! the hay!

Mercutio.More thanprince of cats, I can tell you.

O, he is the courageouscaptain of compliments! He

fights as you singprick-song, keeps time, distance,

and proportion; restsmehis minim rest, one, two,

and the third in your bosom; the very butcher of a

silkbutton, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the

very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah,

the immortalpassado! the punto reverso! the hay!

Benvolio.The what?

Mercutio.The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting30fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,a very good blade! a very tall man!'—Why, is notthis a lamentable thing,grandsire, that we should bethus afflicted with these strange flies, thesefashion-mongers,thesepardonnez-mois, who stand so muchon the newformthat they cannot sit at ease on theold bench? O, theirbons, theirbons!

Mercutio.The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting

fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,

a very good blade! a very tall man!'—Why, is not

this a lamentable thing,grandsire, that we should be

thus afflicted with these strange flies, thesefashion-mongers,

thesepardonnez-mois, who stand so much

on the newformthat they cannot sit at ease on the

old bench? O, theirbons, theirbons!

EnterRomeo

Benvolio.Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mercutio.Without his roe, like a dried herring. Oflesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the40numbers that Petrarch flowed in; Laura to his ladywas but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a betterlove tobe-rhymeher; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatraa gypsy; Helen and Herohildingsand harlots;Thisbe agrey eyeor so, but not to the purpose.—SigniorRomeo,bon jour! there's a French salutationto your Frenchslop. You gave us the counterfeitfairly last night.

Mercutio.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 tobe-rhymeher; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra

a gypsy; Helen and Herohildingsand harlots;

Thisbe agrey eyeor so, but not to the purpose.—Signior

Romeo,bon jour! there's a French salutation

to your Frenchslop. You gave us the counterfeit

fairly last night.

Romeo.Good morrow to you both. What counterfeitdid I give you?

Romeo.Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit

did I give you?

50Mercutio.The slip, sir, the slip; can you notconceive?

Mercutio.The slip, sir, the slip; can you not

conceive?

Romeo.Pardon, good Mercutio, my business wasgreat; and in such a case as mine a man may straincourtesy.

Romeo.Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was

great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain

courtesy.

Mercutio.That's as much as to say, such a caseas yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Mercutio.That's as much as to say, such a case

as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Romeo.Meaning, to curtsy.

Mercutio.Thou hast mostkindlyhit it.

Romeo.A most courteous exposition.

60Mercutio.Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

Mercutio.Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

Romeo.Pink for flower.

Mercutio.Right.

Romeo.Why, then ismy pumpwell flowered.

Mercutio.Well said; follow me this jest now tillthou hast worn out thy pump, that when the singlesole of it is worn the jest may remain after the wearingsole singular.

Mercutio.Well said; follow me this jest now till

thou hast worn out thy pump, that when the single

sole of it is worn the jest may remain after the wearing

sole singular.

Romeo.Osingle-souledjest, solely singular forthe singleness!

Romeo.Osingle-souledjest, solely singular for

the singleness!

70Mercutio.Come between us, good Benvolio; mywits fail.

Mercutio.Come between us, good Benvolio; my

wits fail.

Romeo.Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; orI'll cry a match.

Romeo.Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or

I'll cry a match.

Mercutio.Nay, if thy wits run thewild-goose chase,I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose inone of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my wholefive.Was I with youthere for the goose?

Mercutio.Nay, if thy wits run thewild-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 youthere for the goose?

Romeo.Thou wast never with me for any thingwhen thou was not there for the goose.

Romeo.Thou wast never with me for any thing

when thou was not there for the goose.

80Mercutio.I will bite thee by the earfor that jest.

Mercutio.I will bite thee by the earfor that jest.

Romeo.Nay,good goose, bite not.

Mercutio.Thy wit is a very bittersweeting; it isa most sharp sauce.

Mercutio.Thy wit is a very bittersweeting; it is

a most sharp sauce.

Romeo.And is it not well served into a sweetgoose?

Romeo.And is it not well served into a sweet

goose?

Mercutio.O, here's a wit ofcheveril, that stretchesfrom an inch narrow to an ell broad!

Mercutio.O, here's a wit ofcheveril, that stretches

from an inch narrow to an ell broad!

Romeo.I stretch it out for that word 'broad,'which added to the goose proves thee far and wide90a broad goose.

Romeo.I stretch it out for that word 'broad,'

which added to the goose proves thee far and wide

a broad goose.

Mercutio.Why, is not this better now than groaningfor love? Now art thou sociable, now art thouRomeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as wellas by nature; for this drivelling love is like a greatnatural,—

Mercutio.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,—

Benvolio.Stop there, stop there.

Romeo.Here's goodlygear!

EnterNurseandPeterMercutio.A sail, a sail!Benvolio.Two, two; a shirt and a smock.100Nurse.Peter!Peter.Anon!Nurse.My fan, Peter.Mercutio.Good Peter, to hide her face; for herfan's the fairer of the two.Nurse.God ye good morrow, gentlemen.Mercutio.God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.Nurse.Is it good den?Mercutio.'Tis no less, I tell you, for the hand ofthe dial is now upon theprick of noon.110Nurse.Out upon you! what a man are you!Romeo.One, gentlewoman, that God hath madefor himself to mar.Nurse.By my troth, it is well said; 'for himselfto mar,' quoth a'?—Gentlemen, can any of you tellme where I may find the young Romeo?Romeo.I can tell you; but young Romeo will beolder when you have found him than he was whenyou sought him. I am the youngest of that name,for fault of a worse.120Nurse.You say well.Mercutio.Yea, is the worst well? very well took,i' faith; wisely, wisely.Nurse.If you be he, sir, I desire someconfidencewith you.Benvolio.She willinditehim to some supper.Mercutio.So ho!Romeo.What hast thou found?Mercutio.No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in alenten pie, that is something stale andhoarere it be130spent.—Romeo, will you come to your father's?we'll to dinner thither.Romeo.I will follow you.Mercutio.Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,[singing]'lady, lady, lady!'[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.Nurse.Marry, farewell!—I pray you, sir, whatsaucymerchantwas this, that was so full of hisropery?Romeo.A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hearhimself talk, and will speak more in a minute than140he will stand to in a month.Nurse.An a' speak any thing against me, I'll takehim down an a' were lustier than he is, and twentysuchJacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those thatshall. Scurvy knave! I am none of hisflirt-gills; Iam none of hisskains-mates.—And thou must standby too, and suffer every knave to use me at hispleasure?Peter.I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if Ihad, my weapon should quickly have been out, I150warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another man,if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law onmy side.Nurse.Now,aforeGod, I am so vexed that everypart about me quivers. Scurvy knave!—Pray you,sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bademe inquire you out; what she bade me say, I willkeep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye shouldlead herin a fool's paradise, as they say, it were avery gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the160gentlewoman is young, and, therefore, if you shoulddeal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to beoffered to any gentlewoman, and veryweakdealing.Romeo.Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress.I protest unto thee—Nurse.Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her asmuch. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman!Romeo.What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dostnot mark me.Nurse.I will tell her, sir, that you do protest,170which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

EnterNurseandPeter

Mercutio.A sail, a sail!

Benvolio.Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

100Nurse.Peter!

Peter.Anon!

Nurse.My fan, Peter.

Mercutio.Good Peter, to hide her face; for herfan's the fairer of the two.

Nurse.God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

Mercutio.God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse.Is it good den?

Mercutio.'Tis no less, I tell you, for the hand ofthe dial is now upon theprick of noon.

110Nurse.Out upon you! what a man are you!

Romeo.One, gentlewoman, that God hath madefor himself to mar.

Nurse.By my troth, it is well said; 'for himselfto mar,' quoth a'?—Gentlemen, can any of you tellme where I may find the young Romeo?

Romeo.I can tell you; but young Romeo will beolder when you have found him than he was whenyou sought him. I am the youngest of that name,for fault of a worse.

120Nurse.You say well.

Mercutio.Yea, is the worst well? very well took,i' faith; wisely, wisely.

Nurse.If you be he, sir, I desire someconfidencewith you.

Benvolio.She willinditehim to some supper.

Mercutio.So ho!

Romeo.What hast thou found?

Mercutio.No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in alenten pie, that is something stale andhoarere it be130spent.—Romeo, will you come to your father's?we'll to dinner thither.

Romeo.I will follow you.

Mercutio.Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,[singing]'lady, lady, lady!'[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.

Nurse.Marry, farewell!—I pray you, sir, whatsaucymerchantwas this, that was so full of hisropery?

Romeo.A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hearhimself talk, and will speak more in a minute than140he will stand to in a month.

Nurse.An a' speak any thing against me, I'll takehim down an a' were lustier than he is, and twentysuchJacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those thatshall. Scurvy knave! I am none of hisflirt-gills; Iam none of hisskains-mates.—And thou must standby too, and suffer every knave to use me at hispleasure?

Peter.I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if Ihad, my weapon should quickly have been out, I150warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another man,if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law onmy side.

Nurse.Now,aforeGod, I am so vexed that everypart about me quivers. Scurvy knave!—Pray you,sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bademe inquire you out; what she bade me say, I willkeep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye shouldlead herin a fool's paradise, as they say, it were avery gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the160gentlewoman is young, and, therefore, if you shoulddeal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to beoffered to any gentlewoman, and veryweakdealing.

Romeo.Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress.I protest unto thee—

Nurse.Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her asmuch. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman!

Romeo.What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dostnot mark me.

Nurse.I will tell her, sir, that you do protest,170which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

Romeo.Bid her devise some means to come to shriftThis afternoon;And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cellBe shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.Nurse.No, truly, sir, not a penny.Romeo.Go to; I say you shall.Nurse.This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.Romeo.And stay, good nurse; behind the abbey wallWithin this hour my man shall be with thee,180And bring thee cords made likea tackled stair,Which to thehigh top-gallantof my joyMust be my convoy in the secret night.Farewell; be trusty, and I'llquitthy pains.Farewell; commend me to thymistress.Nurse.Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.Romeo.What say'st thou, my dear nurse?Nurse.Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

Romeo.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.

Romeo.Go to; I say you shall.

Nurse.This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

Romeo.And stay, good nurse; behind the abbey wall

Within this hour my man shall be with thee,

And bring thee cords made likea tackled stair,

Which to thehigh top-gallantof my joy

Must be my convoy in the secret night.

Farewell; be trusty, and I'llquitthy pains.

Farewell; commend me to thymistress.

Nurse.Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

Romeo.What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Nurse.Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,

Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

Romeo.I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.190Nurse.Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady—Lord,Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing—O,there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that wouldfain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had aslievesee a toad, a very toad, as see him. I angerher sometimes, and tell her that Paris is thepropererman; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looksaspale as any cloutin the versal world. Doth notrosemary and Romeo begin both witha letter?Romeo.Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.200Nurse.Ah, mocker! that'sthe dog's name; R isfor the—No, I know it begins with some otherletter—and she hath the prettiest sententious of it,of you and rosemary, that it would do you good tohear it.Romeo.Commend me to thy lady.Nurse.Ay, a thousand times.—[Exit Romeo] Peter!Peter.Anon.Nurse.Before, and apace.[Exeunt.

Romeo.I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

190Nurse.Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady—Lord,Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing—O,there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that wouldfain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had aslievesee a toad, a very toad, as see him. I angerher sometimes, and tell her that Paris is thepropererman; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looksaspale as any cloutin the versal world. Doth notrosemary and Romeo begin both witha letter?

Romeo.Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

200Nurse.Ah, mocker! that'sthe dog's name; R isfor the—No, I know it begins with some otherletter—and she hath the prettiest sententious of it,of you and rosemary, that it would do you good tohear it.

Romeo.Commend me to thy lady.

Nurse.Ay, a thousand times.—[Exit Romeo] Peter!

Peter.Anon.

Nurse.Before, and apace.[Exeunt.

Capulet's Orchard

EnterJuliet

Juliet.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 beamsDriving back shadows over lowering hills;Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves drawLove,And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.Now is the sun upon thehighmosthill10Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelveIs three longhours, yet she is not come.Had she affections and warm youthful blood,She would be as swift in motion as a ball;My words wouldbandyher to my sweet love,And his to me;But old folks, many feign as they were dead,Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.—EnterNurseandPeterO God, she comes!—Ohoney nurse, what news?Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.Nurse.Peter, stay at the gate.[Exit Peter.21Juliet.Now, good sweet nurse,—O Lord, why look'st thou sad?Though news be sad, yet tellthemmerrily;If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet newsBy playing it to me with so sour a face.Nurse.I am aweary,give me leaveawhile.Fie, how my bonesache! what a jaunt have I had!Juliet.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?30Do you not see that I am out of breath?Juliet.How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?The excuse that thou dost make in this delayIs longer than the tale thou dost excuse.Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;Say either, and I'llstay the circumstance.Let me be satisfied, is 't good or bad?

Juliet.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 drawLove,

And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

Now is the sun upon thehighmosthill

10Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelveIs three longhours, yet she is not come.Had she affections and warm youthful blood,She would be as swift in motion as a ball;My words wouldbandyher to my sweet love,And his to me;But old folks, many feign as they were dead,Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.—

Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve

Is three longhours, yet she is not come.

Had she affections and warm youthful blood,

She would be as swift in motion as a ball;

My words wouldbandyher to my sweet love,

And his to me;

But old folks, many feign as they were dead,

Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.—

EnterNurseandPeter

O God, she comes!—Ohoney nurse, what news?Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

O God, she comes!—Ohoney nurse, what news?

Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Nurse.Peter, stay at the gate.[Exit Peter.

21Juliet.Now, good sweet nurse,—O Lord, why look'st thou sad?Though news be sad, yet tellthemmerrily;If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet newsBy playing it to me with so sour a face.

Juliet.Now, good sweet nurse,—O Lord, why look'st thou sad?

Though news be sad, yet tellthemmerrily;

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 leaveawhile.Fie, how my bonesache! what a jaunt have I had!

Nurse.I am aweary,give me leaveawhile.

Fie, how my bonesache! what a jaunt have I had!

Juliet.I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news.Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.

Juliet.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?30Do you not see that I am out of breath?

Nurse.Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?

Do you not see that I am out of breath?

Juliet.How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?The excuse that thou dost make in this delayIs longer than the tale thou dost excuse.Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;Say either, and I'llstay the circumstance.Let me be satisfied, is 't good or bad?

Juliet.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'llstay the circumstance.

Let me be satisfied, is 't good or bad?

Nurse.Well, you have made asimplechoice; youknow not how to choose a man. Romeo! no, not40he; though his face be better than any man's, yet hisleg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, anda body, though they be not to be talked on, yet theyarepast compare. He is not the flower of courtesy,but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thyways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined athome?

Juliet.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!50It beatsasit would fall in twenty pieces.My backo' t'otherside,—O, my back, my back!Beshrewyour heart for sending me about,To catch my death with jaunting up and down!Juliet.I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?Nurse.Your lovesays, like an honest gentleman,And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,And, I warrant, a virtuous,—Where is your mother?Juliet.Where is my mother! why, she is within;60Where 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.Juliet.Here's such acoil!—come, what says Romeo?Nurse.Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?Juliet.I have.Nurse.Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;70There stays a husband to make you a wife.Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,They'll be in scarletstraight at any news.Hie you to church; I must another way,To fetch a ladder, by the which your loveMust climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark.I am the drudge, and toil in your delight.Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.Juliet.Hie to high fortune!—Honest nurse, farewell.[Exeunt.

Juliet.No, no; but all this did I know before.What says he of our marriage? what of that?

Juliet.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!50It beatsasit would fall in twenty pieces.My backo' t'otherside,—O, my back, my back!Beshrewyour heart for sending me about,To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Nurse.Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!

It beatsasit would fall in twenty pieces.

My backo' t'otherside,—O, my back, my back!

Beshrewyour heart for sending me about,

To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Juliet.I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Juliet.I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.

Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse.Your lovesays, like an honest gentleman,And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,And, I warrant, a virtuous,—Where is your mother?

Nurse.Your lovesays, like an honest gentleman,

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

And, I warrant, a virtuous,—Where is your mother?

Juliet.Where is my mother! why, she is within;60Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,Where is your mother?'

Juliet.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.

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.

Juliet.Here's such acoil!—come, what says Romeo?

Nurse.Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

Juliet.I have.

Nurse.Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;70There stays a husband to make you a wife.Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,They'll be in scarletstraight at any news.Hie you to church; I must another way,To fetch a ladder, by the which your loveMust climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark.I am the drudge, and toil in your delight.Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

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 scarletstraight 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.

Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

Juliet.Hie to high fortune!—Honest nurse, farewell.[Exeunt.

Friar Laurence's Cell

EnterFriar LaurenceandRomeo

Friar Laurence.So smile the heavens upon this holy actThat after hours with sorrow chide us not!Romeo.Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,It cannot countervail the exchange of joyThat one short minute gives me in her sight.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.Friar Laurence.These violent delightshave violent ends,10And in their triumph die,like fire and powder,Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honeyIs loathsome inhisown deliciousness,And in the tasteconfoundsthe appetite.Therefore love moderately, long love doth so;Too swiftarrives as tardy as too slow.—EnterJulietHere comes the lady. O, so light a footWill ne'er wear outthe everlasting flint!A lover may bestride thegossamerThat idles in the wanton summer air,20And yet not fall, so light isvanity.Juliet.Good even to my ghostlyconfessor.Friar Laurence.Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.Juliet.As much to him, else is his thanks too much.Romeo.Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joyBe heap'd like mineand thatthy skill be moreToblazon it, then sweeten with thy breathThis neighbour air, and let rich music's tongueUnfold the imagin'd happiness that bothReceive in either by this dearencounter.Juliet.Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,31Brags of his substance, not of ornament.They are but beggarsthat can count their worth;But my true love is grown to such excessI cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.Friar Laurence.Come, come with me, and we will make short work;For, by yourleaves, you shall not stay aloneTill holy church incorporate two in one.[Exeunt.

Friar Laurence.So smile the heavens upon this holy actThat after hours with sorrow chide us not!

Friar Laurence.So smile the heavens upon this holy act

That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

Romeo.Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,It cannot countervail the exchange of joyThat one short minute gives me in her sight.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.

Romeo.Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,

It cannot countervail the exchange of joy

That one short minute gives me in her sight.

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.

Friar Laurence.These violent delightshave violent ends,10And in their triumph die,like fire and powder,Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honeyIs loathsome inhisown deliciousness,And in the tasteconfoundsthe appetite.Therefore love moderately, long love doth so;Too swiftarrives as tardy as too slow.—

Friar Laurence.These violent delightshave violent ends,

And in their triumph die,like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honey

Is loathsome inhisown deliciousness,

And in the tasteconfoundsthe appetite.

Therefore love moderately, long love doth so;

Too swiftarrives as tardy as too slow.—

EnterJuliet

Here comes the lady. O, so light a footWill ne'er wear outthe everlasting flint!A lover may bestride thegossamerThat idles in the wanton summer air,20And yet not fall, so light isvanity.

Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot

Will ne'er wear outthe everlasting flint!

A lover may bestride thegossamer

That idles in the wanton summer air,

And yet not fall, so light isvanity.

Juliet.Good even to my ghostlyconfessor.

Friar Laurence.Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

Juliet.As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

Romeo.Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joyBe heap'd like mineand thatthy skill be moreToblazon it, then sweeten with thy breathThis neighbour air, and let rich music's tongueUnfold the imagin'd happiness that bothReceive in either by this dearencounter.

Romeo.Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heap'd like mineand thatthy skill be more

Toblazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue

Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both

Receive in either by this dearencounter.

Juliet.Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,31Brags of his substance, not of ornament.They are but beggarsthat can count their worth;But my true love is grown to such excessI cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

Juliet.Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his substance, not of ornament.

They are but beggarsthat can count their worth;

But my true love is grown to such excess

I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

Friar Laurence.Come, come with me, and we will make short work;For, by yourleaves, you shall not stay aloneTill holy church incorporate two in one.[Exeunt.

Friar Laurence.Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by yourleaves, you shall not stay alone

Till holy church incorporate two in one.[Exeunt.

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